"River!" Thump, thump, thump as Simon pounded on the door.

River, moving softly around the tiny bunk, set the knife on the floor, then found the unconscious man's leather knapsack. The leather was worn and cracked and very soft to the touch, almost warm. It was held shut by a woefully inadequate series of knots. Her deft fingers quickly undid the cords and pulled the sack open. She upended it over the bed and watched as the contents spilled out.

Nothing at first particularly interested her. There was a canvas pouch with drawing pencils and sticks made out of a chalky material. River drew one of the sticks across her palm and watched as a chalky blue line appeared. There were assorted credits and coins. There were two books, both on Earth-That-Was philosophy. And a small gun, which River found amusing due to the man's obvious evil nature. Evil-doers always had big guns. Just look at Jayne. And, finally, two disks of some sort.

The door swung open, and Simon, bleeding profusely from a gash on his forehead, yelled the safe word. River collapsed to the floor, the wrench she'd used as a weapon clattering to the floor beside her. Jayne moved into the bunk, gun drawn, in case either River or Miles moved even an inch. "Don't worry, Doc. They're out like a ruttin' light."

Simon moved to River's side and took her pulse. Mal appeared in the doorway, bleeding as well, a bruise appearing over his right eye. "What the hell was that about? That gorram girl's gonna get us killed one day. Either that, or we're gonna kill her."

Simon stood. "She was saying something about Miles not really being who he claimed to be, and then she just… lost it."

"Jayne, chain her up," Mal ordered. The bulky man moved to obey the captain's orders. To Simon, Mal said, "Let's get patched up and then we'll see what's really going on."

Simon nodded, then noticed the mess River had made from Miles's belongings. "Disks, captain. Should we check them out?"

Mal had been pushing the passenger into a sitting position, all the better to tie him to the bunk. "Sure. Take em to Wash." Then, considering his words, he added, "Best put somethin' on that cut."

In the corridor, he heard Kaylee. "Everybody all right? Where's River? Is it over?"

"She's with Jayne. And it's over for now," Simon said, stepping into the hallway. They spoke briefly for a moment and then their footsteps echoed away.

Mal finished tying the passenger to the bunk and exited, locking the door behind him.

Once Simon had patched the crew as well as he could, and River was safely locked in the storage hold, they gathered on the bridge to watch the communications that had been stored on the disks. Wash slid them into the reader and tapped a code into the machine. Immediately a man appeared on the screen. He was wearing a dark purple tunic with a circular badge sewn onto it. He began to speak. "Agent K7401PL9, you have been tasked with infiltrating the PRFO and removing their leader, Falstaff Rizzly. Your mission must be completed and noted in order for you to safely be able to exit the Starboard Force." The message clicked off.

"What's the PRFO?" Kaylee asked.

"Peoples' Resistance Front of Obfuscata," Mal and Zoë said as one. Mal continued, "This message must be at least ten years old."

"How d' ya figure, Mal?" Jayne questioned.

"Well, Mr. Cromwell said he'd been on Wanderlust for eight years, and I'm gonna give him the benefit of the doubt and believe him. What's more, the Starboard Force ceased to exist nine years ago. They were replaced by the Bugler Battalion. And Falstaff Rizzly took over the PRFO ten years ago, and he's not dead yet."

"So… that makes Miles a spy," Kaylee said in wonder.

"But a good spy," Mal informed her. "The PRFO has gotten nearly as bad as the gorram Reavers, cept, o' course, they're still human."

"So if Miles was tasked to kill Falstaff Rizzly, the PRFO must know about it," Wash mused.

"Which is why they're coming after us; they know we have him," Zoë mused.

"But they're not gonna catch us," Mal said firmly.

The conversation was interrupted suddenly by a loud and terrible scream. Inara jumped. Simon said, "River!" and took off at a run, Kaylee moving after him.

In the cold darkness of the storage locker, the two found River pulling at the cuffs latched firmly around her pale, skinny wrists, which were bleeding from the effort. As Simon knelt to face her, she screamed again, tears dripping down her face. "Simon," she said, panicked. "Simon, tell them – tell them! Tell them it wasn't me!"

"Shhh, shh," Simon said, putting his hands on her shoulders, trying to calm her.

"Tell them!" she screamed at him. "Oh God oh God stay away from me I'll kill you, everybody's covered in blood, it's so cold, so cold…"

"Kaylee," Simon said quietly, "go to my bunk and get the black bag that's on the shelf in there. And a pan of water and a bowl of oatmeal. Please."

"So cold," River repeated.

Kaylee nodded and moved off quickly.

"River," Simon said, putting his hand on her forehead, which was ice cold, "you have to calm down."

"So cold, please tell them so I can go home."

Simon sat down across from her, wiping the blood that had been on his hand on his pants. Her eyes were wild, her face dripping more blood onto her already bloody dress as she pulled at the manacles. "Stop hurting me!" she yelled, the chains hitting the grating with a harsh metallic sound. "Stay away from me I hate you!" Her breathing was becoming fast and ragged. "Simon, help me! I can hear them and they're telling me I'm dead and I know I know I know I know I'm not!"

Kaylee returned carrying what he'd asked for. Simon quickly opened the black bag and drew out a hypodermic needle and a vial of clear liquid. He filled the needle, wiped River's arm with an antiseptic and injected the drug into her. Her breathing slowed and the screaming stopped, although the tears didn't. "Simon," she said, softly, as though she was very far away, "Simon, they hurt me."

"I know, mei-mei." His heart was aching at the sight of her, chained up and unable to focus or even speak clearly. He took a cloth from his bag, dipped it in the water, and began to wipe the blood from her face and wrists. He bandaged her wrists as best he could, then wrapped long strips of fabric around them to protect them from further damage. He applied ointment to her face. By the time he was done, she was as relaxed as she usually was while drugged. Simon fed her some of the oatmeal, scraping it off her face with the spoon when she spit it out, or it drooled from her lips, which were slowly going slack. He washed her face one final time and then covered her with a blanket Kaylee had thoughtfully brought. The blanket was quickly darkened with her tears. Her eyes closed at last, tears still running from them, and her body went limp, her head dropping.

Simon took her pulse; it was very slow but not dangerously so. Kaylee let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding. "That was pretty bad, huh?"

Simon nodded without speaking. When he did speak, a moment or so later, he said quietly, "I think she's getting worse. I think something's gone wrong."

He closed his eyes. Kaylee leaned against him and put her arm around him. They sat there in silence, Kaylee watching as River fought with her demons in a drug-induced, dream-filled sleep.