Mal, Jayne, and Grim were walking the long hallway to the two sliding doors they entered into.

"-alliance still poke its head in?" Mal was finishing his question.

"Frequently at first. They offered to escort me back to civilization. I was too devastated to leave. The trials I had to undertake and the deaths I had witnessed were equal to Dante's himself and left me with a mind too scarred to enjoy the company of modern civilized life."

"I always had a bother with that adjective myself."

"I'm not surprised. So, now they only stop by about once a year or so. They make sure I have food and still am possessed of life so as to need it."

"They don't mind you squattin'?"

"Actually they prefer it. This is a big ship, Captain Reynolds, and though it has been ravaged by the madness of space and those that make their home there, it would not be a surprise to me, nor to my superiors, if there are many valuable secrets still hidden beneath this majestic rubble. Oh, look at that, it looks like your crew is almost done; I don't suppose I can expect you to join me for dinner before you continue on your way?"

"Be mighty delighted. Give us 'bout two hours?"

"Oh...so long? Ok, if you must. Yes, I suppose it's best. There are certain maintenance duties that I still have to preform as sole resident of Charlotte."

"Great then. Don't let those nasty nightmares get ya while we're gone."

"Don't worry, Mr. Reynolds, I have all my nightmares safely stabled."

As Mal and Jayne descended majestically through the space between Serenity and Charlotte Jayne speaks,

"He said treasure."

"No, he didn't."

"You sure? I heard treasure."

"Jayne, you'd hear treasure with your ears covered, see gold blindfolded and taste from the sweet chocolate river of Wanka with your tongue fed to the Mandarin's of Persephone."

"Wanka?"

"Still, go take a look Jayne. See if you can find anything useful. Don't get seen, it's a big damn ship behind us and big damn ships are liable to have big damn cannons, even broken ones, so it's best if we give the Captain no ire."

"I was just askin' if he had treasure. I got some bad feelins stealin' from a man that gives me beer."

"Really?"

"Oh, look at that, they're gone." He jokes and floats off towards the dark spaceship aiming for the opposite side of where Captain Grey has his living area illuminated. After a few moments he disappears into it, just another scoundrel in search of hidden and forbidden riches.


Footsteps echo through the empty halls of Serenity. Simon and River play an unorganized game of throw the Not Quite Ball Through the Metallic Hanging Hoop in the Ceiling (patent pending).

"I don't see how they do this." Simon says. He jumps up, over his smaller sister, and throws the ball towards the hanging hoop that looks like a washer ring.

"No fair, no fair! I think you're cheating."

The ball bounces to the floor as the ring from its contact with the hoop echoes against the boxes stacked n the cargo hold and down the ship.

"Cheated? And how did I cheat?" Simon leans over his sister in good humor. .

"I'm shorter than your shadow."

"Depending on the position of the sun all men could be shorter than my shadow's length."

"Don't bring Greek structure into the Colosseum. The dirt track is made for spiked wheels, not rulers."

"Actually, the Colosseum was made for rulers."

River was making her way over to the ball. "Rulers. As in Kings. Not the device used to take measurements, a representative of the branch of mathematics that measures shadows, which is what I meant. Simon, you're trying to joke. Odd."

"Yes. I should stop, but seeing you in such a good mood makes me feel like joking. Anyway, we both know why you cry foul. You just can't stand the fact that I'm better than you at something."

River throws the ball against one of the boxes, it bounces off and through the hoop and she smiles triumphantly at her brother. "You can still cut people better."
Abruptly the mirth is interrupted as River grabs her head. She sees images unintelligible but frightening.

"Mona Lisa! Mona Lisa's in my head!" She falls to the floor, clutching her head, face contorted in agony, "Pretty girl, not right!" She feels reassuring arms cradling her, "Madness! Simon, she's mad! Sisters in pain!" She clutches her brother's shirt tightly in a desperate grasp, "I'm afraid it might be too late to fix her. Simon, is it too late?" Then she blacks out, the image of her brother's frightened face the last thing she remembers before it fades from her mind's eye.