So, something changed... and it wasn't the disclaimer. This chapter, you can rock out to: "Never Let You Go" - Third Eye Blind. Oh, and by the way, "hyperphasia" isn't a real medical condition, at least that I could find, but it's the right name for one if it did exist.

"River?" Simon asked cautiously as he stepped into the infirmary. He was, as usual, unarmed; at least, he had no gun. The Captain had not seen it fit to give him a gun, even though they both knew Jayne had upwards of an arsenal stored in his bunk. Simon had mixed feelings about that. On one hand, it reduced the number of weapons River could forcibly take from someone. On the other, he was now armed with a heavy medical text. If she had weapons – which she did, no laughin' matter bout that – a book would do a whole lot of… nothing much.

He heard someone in the hallway behind him and he whirled, holding the book high. It was Zoë, with her gun. Upon making eye contact with each other, both lowered their respective weapons (though Simon had to admit Zoë's would be a tad more useful than his in a struggle) slightly. "Find her yet?" Zoë questioned the doctor, who shook his head in response. "We're runnin' out of places to look."

"Here's a thought," Jayne said from behind them. He had obviously been to his bunk, for new weapons hung in his holsters. "Crazy's gonna have nother fit and we'll find her then!"

Simon waited for this thought to penetrate his brain. He hadn't counted on that. Wouldn't the drug have worn off yet? Well, no, according to Miles; it was supposed to kill her first. A seizure would certainly give them the time they needed to get the weapons away from his sister. "Good thinking, Jayne."

Jayne looked surprised. "Really?"

"Really."

"Xie-xie," Jayne replied gruffly.

From above them they heard a clang. "Soup pot, y' think?" Zoë asked.

"Sounded like one t' me," Jayne answered authoritatively, as though he was an expert on what a soup pot sounded like as it hit metal. "Let's go." Then, considering the doctor, who was still holding his book, he said, "Well, me n Zoë'll go. You kin stay here. We'll call ya if she's havin' a fit."

"Don't shoot her," Simon said, but he doubted they heard.

Jayne and Zoë moved carefully, almost stealthily, to the place where they thought the noise had originated. No one was there. Then they heard the noise again and both of them whirled in opposite directions, holding their weapons at the ready. "River?" Zoë asked.

"I told you they were coming," River's voice said softly.

"Jayne," Zoë said softly, "no shooting."

"Then what've we got the guns fer?"

Zoë shot him a warning glare and he got the message. Zoë stepped forward. "River, where are you?"

"It hurts."

"Come out where we can see you."

"It hurts. It hurts bad. Everywhere. All over. Like ants in my skin."

"River, come out," Zoë repeated. "We're not going to hurt you."

"Come out, come out, wherever you are," Jayne murmured.

"Everywhere hurts," the girl continued, and Zoë could hear that she was crying. "All over. Ants! Ants, everywhere!"

"River," Zoë said once more.

Jayne had reached the end of the walk nearest the engine room. "Here she is," he said disgustedly. "Hidin' like a mouse."

Zoë stepped forward until she was shoulder-to-shoulder with Jayne and looked down at the girl. River's eyes were big and sad with pain. The soup pot was on the floor next to her, and Jayne's guns were in it. All over her pale skin, at least all that Jayne and Zoë could see, was a spiraling, angry red rash. "Oh God," Zoë said as she took it in. "What is that, ya think?"

Jayne was shaking his head. "Dunno."

"Get the doctor," Zoë said. When Jayne didn't move, she repeated, louder, "Get the doctor!" River flinched at the loud noise. Zoë knelt down to face her as Jayne ran off, his boots thumping the walk loudly. "Sweetheart, it's going to be all right."

"The ants go marching one by one, hurrah, hurrah," River said, choking the words out between sobs.

Wash chose that moment to lift off. The captain's words echoed through the air via intercom: "Attention Serenity crew, we are headed for… well, we're gettin' the hell outa here. Hopefully headed fer Hazel's Line. If'n we make it that far."

Simon came running along the walk and knelt down next to Zoë. His eyes grew wide as he took in his sister, hiding amongst the pipes, in obvious pain. "What is this?" he asked.

"A side effect from whatever the spy gave her, ya think?" Zoë suggested.

Simon closed his eyes as though he was trying to remember something. Then he said, opening his eyes, "I believe that the end is very near."

"Don't start talkin' in code with me now, Doc," Zoë said firmly. "Got one of ya doin' that, that's enough."

"What I meant was, the Truth-Teller drugs are a very odd line of drugs, with specific side effects and consequences. I can't imagine why I didn't see this coming, now that we know what it was he gave her."

Zoë looked at him, puzzled. "What do ya mean?"

"Seizures first. We've seen that. Then rashes, followed by a decline in logic and reasoning patterns. Then hyperphasia."

"Hyper-what?" Jayne asked, standing over the doctor's shoulder like a very large guard dog.

"She's going to start talking. A lot."

"How's that any different from what she does now?" Jayne demanded.

"She won't be able to stop. And she won't really know what she's saying. It'll just be a reflex triggered in her brain by the drug."

"Oh. Then what?"

"Then… if we can't stop it, more seizures. And brain death."

"Well, shit," Jayne said. He looked at Zoë. "Don't want no death on Serenity. Least a' ways, not anybody I… uh…"

"We get it, Jayne. You don't want anybody but you killin' the 'gorram crazy,'" Zoë said.

"Did I say that?"

"Come here, mei-mei," Simon said, reaching for River's arm. She drew back and screamed at him, "No, no, hurts!"

"Attention Serenity folk," Mal's voice said over the intercom, "we're going to be flying into a bit of… well, a rough spot. Nothin' t' worry bout, but… uh… y' might want t' be takin' real close care o' yerself fer a bit."

The ship suddenly did a dip, followed by an extremely fast left swing. Jayne grabbed on to Zoë as to prevent the woman from taking an unplanned leap over the railing. Simon braced himself on the pipes. "River, you have to come with me."

"The ants are already inside me."

"I know. I can fix that." He was bluffing. He couldn't fix this.

As usual, she saw right through it. He should have known better than to lie to her. There was a reason he'd never been good at poker. "Can't fix everything. You're not as good as you think you are. You're just faster than they'd like."

"River, listen to me. Would I ever lie to you?"

"You lie all the time."

"But not to you. I love you."

"Sometimes people lie to people they love."

"Not you. Believe me."

"Can't trust anybody," she singsongs. "Cups and plates and forks and spoons, someone's dying and dying soon."

"Then it'll be some of those PRFO tian sha de e mo," Simon informed her. "Not you."

"Language, you liar."

"Would I lie to you?"

"I believe we've been this way before, though I'm as lost as you."

"Come with me. Let's see if I can fix those ants."

"You're not an exterminator."

"I don't need to be."

"Liar."

"River." He was becoming impatient. The clock was ticking.

The ship took another dip, and Mal's voice, a little less reassuring, came over the intercom again. "Well, seems as though we're… uh… being shot at. No need t' alarm yerselves, we should make it through just fine."

"Ruttin' hell we will," Jayne said, and headed for the bridge.

"Simon, do you need help?" Zoë asked.

"I'll let you know," he responded. "You can… go… help, or whatever."

She nodded and went in the same direction Jayne had gone only moments before. Simon turned his attention back to his sister. "Come here. I want to help."

"Can't. Not anymore. They're already inside me."

"Who? Who's inside you?"

"Who isn't? Who isn't in here?" she replied with a bitter laugh. Then her voice changed to that of a child in immense pain. "It hurts, it hurts, it hurts!"

"I want to help." The ship did a hard right. Simon swallowed hard. "Listen to me."

She shook her head, her eyes closed, as though she was nothing more than a bratty little sister disobeying her older brother rather than a mentally traumatized psychic genius in danger of dying at an accelerated rate. "Go help the spy!" she choked out, suddenly angry again. "Betcha you care more about him than me!"

"Who told you that?"

"They all told me!"

"Well, you can tell them to… stuff it," Simon said, using an expression he hadn't trotted out in awhile. "They're wrong. You come first."

"Less somebody else gets hurt."

"No. You are first."

She laughed again, still bitterly. "Cups and plates and forks and spoons, someone's dying and dying soon."

"River. Don't make me…"

"What? Make you what? I never make you do anything, you just do it all yourself!"

There. She had sounded lucid at last. Simon should have been congratulating himself on her lucidity, but he knew that firstly there was no time to waste and secondly it wouldn't last.

He was right.

"The ants go marching two by two, hurrah, hurrah. Hear them? I can hear all of their little tiny feet inside me, tap-dancing in my veins."

He reached into her hidey hole, grabbed her by the arms, and pulled her towards him. She screamed as he touched her rash-covered skin, a breathless scream that threatened to rob her of air. He pulled her into a standing position, looped his arm around her waist, and began to gently lead her towards the infirmary. She stumbled, her bare feet covered in the spiraling red pattern like the rest of her body, the screaming not ending.

"Doc?" It was Jayne, speaking loudly to be heard over the screams. "You killin' the girl?"

"No," Simon said, in the same tone. "If she survives, you can have that honor for the next time she steals your guns."

"I jest wanted t' know if you needed help," Jayne said, a little sheepishly. "Wash said I make him nervous, so he kicked me out."

"Oh. Well, here. Hold onto her so she won't run away." Simon waited until Jayne's grip had replaced his own, then hurried over to one of the drawers. "First, something for pain. Then, treat the rash. Then… then what?"

"Hey, Crazy," Jayne was saying, trying to get River to pay attention to him. He brushed her hair out of her face. "Hey, listen here. Nara told me she gave you chocolate t' day. She ain't given none o' us chocolate, you must be somethin' special."

River stopped screaming all of a sudden, and the silence felt like marshmallows stuffed in Jayne and Simon's ears. Breaking the silence, she looked up at Jayne confusedly. "You're not Uncle Max."

"Damn straight I ain't." To Simon, the mercenary said, "Who's Uncle Max?"

"We don't have an Uncle Max," Simon replied, having finished grabbing all of his supplies. He ripped open a few of the packages and laid them out on the counter.

Jayne was looking concerned. "This the… loopy part you talked about?"

Simon didn't want to admit it. "Probably."

"What d' we d' now?"

"Drugs, try to catch up and make up for the time we don't have. And… prayer. Maybe that wouldn't hurt so much."

Simon was expecting it, but Jayne didn't laugh.

Translations: xie-xie: thank you

tian sha de e mo: goddamn monsters

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