a/n: Something a bit different this time, as we see a bit of Mal's perspective on things. C&C welcome as always!

"Miranda," she whispers, and suddenly everyone else is moving in slow motion, while she burns with an alien fury. People are screaming as she takes them down, but she doesn't hear, doesn't care, and when Jayne grabs her she slams a tray into his head with such force she feels the crack of bone, sees him slump to the floor dead -

Some part of her knows this isn't right, this isn't the proper sequence, but she can't stop, she can't stop -

and all threats have fallen but the final one now. Without hesitation she aims at Mal, fires, watches with detached horror as she turns and shoots down Simon before he can speak the words -

River does not awaken screaming only because her throat is too dry to produce sound. Gasping and retching, she slides off her bed to the floor, trying to dig her fingers into its cool surface.

When she is finally able to get up, the bed has acquired an evil quality and she turns her back on it, shivering.

Pulling on an old sweater that must have come from Jayne, for it swallows her in a large wooly embrace, she flees into the silent light of Serenity.

Sitting the galley with a mug of tea and his feet up on the table, Mal is startled to find himself at peace for the first time in weeks.

It's been near a month since Inara left, since they'd made a stiff farewell without looking each other in the eye.

He's been working through the thoughts this has left him with ever since. Not, he's sure, because he really wants to, but because his co-pilot keeps spouting her nonsense about images and turning past emotion into something worth having in the present. Least, that's what he thinks she's saying, and damned if he doesn't somehow feel better with those big brown eyes looking at him across the bridge. She may be not quite right, but she's certain enough of what she says to almost make a man believe it himself.

Shaking his head at the thought – next thing you know, I'll be wandering 'round the ship barefoot talking to things as can't be seen – he washes out his mug and starts on a tour of his ship, reassuring himself that all's well before he heads back to the bridge.

He finds her in the passenger lounge, huddled in a corner staring up at the lights, lips moving though she's not saying a thing.

For a second, he wonders why she hasn't woken her brother, but a glance down the hallway shows the doc's door is open and the room dark; no doubt Simon's hiding out under Kaylee's covers again. A flash of annoyance fills him as he approaches River – ought to be someone nearby for her, ain't right of him to just go off and leave her on her own down here – and then he's there, kneeling down and reaching out, slow and careful so as not to startle her.

"River, darlin', you alright?" he asks, placing a gentle hand on her drawn up knee.

She focuses on him immediately, and that's comforting, but the tears that start running down her face very much aren't.

"There now, ain't no call for that. What's happened got you in such a state?"

She draws a shaky breath, buries her face in her arms. "Bad dream," she says, muffled but audible.

"That all?" Reflecting on some of his own dreams, Mal thinks better of that tactic, shifts position. "Well, I know one thing, sitting on this hard floor isn't like to help any. What do you say you do an old man a favor, sit somewhere a mite more comfortable?"

She sniffles but nods, letting him pull her to her feet and guide her to the nearby couch.

"You want me to go fetch your brother?" he asks, sitting awkwardly next to her as she re-curls herself into a ball.

Though tears are still welling in her eyes, she shakes her head fiercely. "Just upsets him. Makes him feel he's failed. It isn't his fault though. Can't use drugs as glue, can't fix something that never was."

Her hand is tugging away at a frayed thread at the end of her sleeve; impulsively Mal stills it with his own, desperate to lend her whatever calm he can. "You wanna talk about this dream of yours any? Might help."

She looks away, and it's a long moment before she speaks. "Bring ruin down with me, wherever I go. Don't want it, but I can't stop it. I can't stop it." Her eyes meet his, panicked, the grip of her slim hand on his becoming downright painful. "What if it happens again? Always have sharp edges, never safe."

"River, stop it," he says, taking her by the shoulders. "If it happens again, you'll fight it. Or we'll all help fight it for you. You ain't never hurt nobody on this boat worse than they could take, and I'm not expecting you're gonna start anytime soon, alright?"

Her tears are falling again, and she whispers, "Brought hurt down on you though. Maybe just luck I didn't do worse."

There's a cold bit of rage in him as he gathers her to him and holds her close, swearing silently that no hell is cruel enough for them that did this to her. "Couldn't possibly be luck, darlin', only kind I ever have is bad. And it weren't bad luck that brought you here." He clumsily wipes a tear from her face, pushes her chin up till she looks him in the eye. "I don't blame you for any of what's happened, you got that? Never have. And if anybody on this boat does, they can answer to me. Wouldn't have you on my crew if I didn't trust you."

He expects more protests, is surprised after a moment to see instead one of her rare smiles, only a bit dampened. "Thank you, Captain." She sighs and settles her face against his chest. "And you're not old."

"Huh?" He's confused, but on reflection, this is the usual way of things when conversing with River, so maybe it's a good sign.

"Said I should do an old man a favor before." She smothers a yawn, eyes closing. "You're not so old. Not really."

"Yeah, but 'do a not-so-old but uncomfortable man a favor' just don't have the same ring to it."

She makes an amused sound as she sleepily stretches out her legs, uncurling from her tight ball. "Hope you're not so uncomfortable now."

"Well," he says, staring mighty carefully over the top of her head at the wall, "I might be if your brother were to happen to walk in 'bout now, seein' as you seem to have forgotten to put your pants on."

He tries – honest to the memory of Shepherd Book, he tries – but he can't help catching a glimpse of long pale legs as she jumps up and flees to her bunk.

Not only an old man, but a dirty one, he thinks, shaking his head as he starts back up to the bridge.

In her room, River knows, and smiles.