"You know, these bi-weekly check-ups are starting to get really old," Wash commented darkly as he rolled the sleeve of his jumper down and rubbed his arm where Simon had just drawn his blood.

Simon didn't bother looking up at him as he slipped the vial of ichors into the testing chamber and switched it on to process. "You want to get better, don't you?" he questioned unconcernedly.

Wash shifted on the chair, keeping his eyes on the door and off of Simon. "I am better. We've been doing these check-ups twice a week for a month, and nothing has changed." He looked over as Simon turned to the computer and imputed some information onto it. The doctor studied the read out there and seemed far more interested in its display than in his patient. Wash turned away, staring at his feet and said, "I feel like a shang di zhou ma circus act that you just like to gawk at."

That caused Simon to glance up at him briefly, although his face kept its unreadable expression of professionalism. "Your condition is rare and of concern to me. I show interest in you so often because nothing like you has ever been publicly recorded, and I can learn a lot from studying your reconstruction. I don't want to do anything that might jeopardize your health, or not do anything that might adversely affect you.

"And you have changed: you're not collapsing as much, your vision doesn't blur except in rare occasions now, you've gained a significant amount of weight, and your disposition seems overall, though apparently not right now, brighter. I'd say those were all extraordinary accomplishments for a man who was dead some sixteen months ago."

Closing his eyes against Simon's inane forwardness, Wash sighed. "I meant that nothing has changed for the worse. I'm better, or getting better." He wriggled his healthy little fingers at the doctor. "Can't we at least push these tests back to just once a month?" Off Simon's disapproving look, Wash countered. "Once a week?"

"I'm still worried," Simon answered easily, ignoring Wash's bitterness. "You've not remembered any of the events you've forgotten. And your health has improved, but it's hardly recovered. You can't expect to do one month of physical therapy and get back what you lost over a year."

"I'm not saying I want to stop getting check-ups," Wash complained. "It's just that twice a week seems like overkill."

"I'm your doctor, Wash, and I just have your best interests in mind. Don't you trust me?"

Wash's eyes narrowed instantly at that, and he looked hard at Simon. He could tell immediately that Simon regretted the phrasing of his sentence. For a second, Wash waited for him to recant or apologize for it. When he didn't, Wash let his anger at the phrase boil over. He slipped off the examination chair and spun to face Simon, his voice angry and heated when he spoke. "I'll come back when you start trusting me. How's that?"

"Wash--" Simon started to softly protest.

He was cut off by Wash raising a finger and pointing it accusingly at him. "You don't need to see me this often and I know it. You just feel your position on this ship is jeopardized when no one is getting hurt. River is all better so you can't poke and prod on her anymore, and now you've got nothing to do."

"That isn't true!" Simon retorted, appalled, his face finally cracking into a look other than stoic professionalism.

Wash continued, "I'm your little boon because if you think you're fixing me, and if the crew thinks you're fixing me, the better you feel about yourself. Well, I'm tired of it, and I'm tired of your clinical indifference. Find someone else to mess around with because I had my fill of doctors in prison."

"These sorts of mood swings are exactly why we need these bi-weekly check-ups," Simon protested calmly. "Just settle down. I'll give you something to quell the anxiety," he suggested hopefully.

"There are people on this boat who need you to fix them more than I do. So far, nothing you've done has even remotely helped me out; you're just jiao ao enough to think it has," Wash countered hotly.

Simon's brow furrowed. "What're you talking about?"

"You're too dim to even notice it, which is just fine by me, but since other people are helping me more than you are, I'm just going to let them keep doing their thing. Why don't you try using your arts on fixing this issue between you and Kaylee and River?" Wash gave a feral grin at the way that statement made Simon's back straighten up.

The doctor stumbled for words for a few moments. "Kaylee and I…" he began and then trailed off. He reasserted himself. "I keep my private life separate from my professional life, and you should, too! But if someone else is helping you recover, you should let me know about it. It could affect what we've been doing."

Wash glared at him coldly. "If you were even half as concerned about me as a person than you are of me as a test subject, you would have figured that out a long time ago." He stalked to the door of the infirmary and turned around to face him. "Go deal with your own problems before you try to deal with mine again."

"Wash," Simon called, but it was too late; Wash had already stepped through the infirmary doors and was gone up the stairs.
--

Dinner was cooking up in the galley as Wash made his way into the upper levels of the ship. It smelled rather nice tonight, and he could tell that some of the protein was being supplemented with real spices, if not real food. That meant Jayne was probably cooking, since he'd picked up some useful tricks from Shepherd Book when the two had cooked together, and combined them with the rudimentary skills he had learned from his mother when he was a boy. Wash turned from heading to his bunk and chanced a peek into the galley to see if his suspicions were correct.

Everyone but Simon was inside preparing for dinner, gathering plates and utensils and setting the table. It was a curious sight to see, as Wash hadn't experienced a true family sit-down meal since he'd come aboard. Even Zoe was helping out, filling mugs with drinks and setting them around the table.

Wash felt a grin creep onto his face as he took in the crew, his anger at Simon forgotten. "What's all this?" he asked after watching long enough to assure himself that he wasn't hallucinating.

Mal looked up from where he was standing behind the counter next to Jayne, helping the cooking along. "Makin' dinner," he replied in an obvious voice.

Wash tilted his head a little. "Yes," he agreed and found his spirits lifting. It was as though the argument with Simon had melted off him as soon as he'd stepped out of the infirmary. He felt cheerful now. "Just not used to seeing it. Can I help?"

Mal shrugged. "Figure it was time we started this up again." He glanced about, looking for something for Wash to do. "See if we don't have some napkins out?"

Wash stared at the drawer that the napkins were kept in. Jayne was standing right in front of it while he chopped something up with a very large knife. Wash hesitated a moment, trying to decide if he wanted to go over to him and retrieve the napkins, and then he noticed Kaylee struggling with a large basket.

He abandoned the napkin scheme and immediately went to assist her instead. Upon taking the basket from her, he was assaulted with the heavy aroma of freshly baked bread. His eyes widened. "Is this bread? Real bread?" he asked, surprised.

Kaylee nodded and grinned impishly at him. "It is. Pretty qi miao, ain't it?"

Wash nodded vigorously and honestly could not recall the last time he'd had real bread. "I must have been very good today to get this. What's the occasion?"

"No occasion," Mal called as he stirred something in a pot. "Just picked up some good food on our last run, and it seemed about time to use it."

"Well, I can't argue with that," Wash agreed contentedly.

River looked up from where she was meticulously setting the utensils out, arranging them in the proper eating order. She looked up at Wash as he cradled the basket of bread. "We all celebrate for our own reasons," she replied softly and then directed her attention back down to her task. "You just don't understand them."

Wash smiled curiously at this statement. "I thought you were through with being creepy?" He glanced around for confirmation.

Mal shook his head negatively. "Oh, no. River still has her crazy moments," he commented with a smile. "Only now we know she's usually reading our minds and predicting the future in strange and uncomfortable ways."

River straightened up and peered over at Mal with a concerned look on her face. "He doesn't know it yet," she said aloud, staring at Mal but addressing Wash, "but soon he'll learn to beat the tide." She glanced to Jayne, then to Zoe, and finally to Kaylee. She laughed a little before returning her gaze to Wash. "Drown or swim—it won't matter after a while. Everyone will sink."

"Well, some things never change," Wash replied happily after listening to River's crazy talk. He moved towards the table, and Kaylee reached into the basket to pull rolls of bread out and set them on the plates. "I guess that's a comfort. I mean, at least you're speaking to me now."

River smirked at him. "Always speaking; your ears are always closed."

"You know, I'm really just not as big a fan of your creepy phrases as I used to be, River. But I do appreciate the effort you're putting forth," Wash replied lightly.

He and Kaylee drew up beside Zoe, and she stepped aside a little to let them pass with the bread. "Jayne ain't much a fan of her witticism neither," she commented absently.

Wash stiffened a moment at her words and looked to her and then over his shoulder at the mercenary.

Jayne glanced up from his chopping and grunted. "Hey, Zoe," he called in a leering tone, ignoring her comment, "I got a hell of a better job for your pretty mouth than what your usin' it for."

Mal immediately smacked him hard on the arm. "Reckon your brain's gone missin' again, Jayne," he warned.

Zoe looked from Jayne to Wash, and she shook her head almost as though she were amused by the crudeness. "Think you just picked the wrong battle to fight in," she called to Jayne before she crossed her arms and studied him carefully, one eyebrow perked.

Jayne shrugged and resumed his methodic chopping. "Hell, just 'cause y'ain't gonna sleep with him don't mean y'can't sleep with me." He looked up briefly as he lifted his cutting board full of diced vegetables and scraped them into the pot.

Both Mal and Zoe stared at him openly. Wash shuffled past unseen, setting out the rest of the bread. "Think you might want to rephrase that, Jayne," Zoe cautioned.

Jayne snorted at her and shook his head. He set the cutting board down and met Zoe's gaze. "Why? Y'ain't attached, right? Kaylee ain't int'rested in me none. Don't see what's so wrong 'bout admirin'. We could grapple a little, relieve some tension we both got." He went so far as to waggle his brows for emphasis.

The look of open surprise and mild disgust on Zoe's face was hard to hide. She was stunned at his audacity. For a full second she did nothing, weighing her options. Then she turned around to address Kaylee. "He hit on you?" she asked, bemused.

Kaylee grinned softly, almost shyly. "Well, yeah, but who don't he hit on?"

"He's still afraid from before," River stated in a singing soft voice. "Doesn't think he can trust anymore." Both Kaylee and Zoe looked over to the teenager. She was staring at Jayne, and Jayne was suddenly shifting about behind the counter, uncomfortably.

"Hell, I still get nightmares from that bar fight you done me in at," Jayne protested gruffly. "Ain't no way I'm going there."

"Which is good 'cause I'd space you if you tried gettin' with little girls." Mal nodded emphatically and then turned away from Jayne. "He's really just afraid 'cause River can read his mind," Mal stated easily to the girls. "Ain't no way he could charm her with those thoughts."

"There is no charm," River agreed and ran her fingers over the tabletop. "He only has his brute force and pity."

"Well, hell, I ain't tryin' t'get River no how anyway," he protested. "Was hittin' on Zoe, if I recall, which I do."

Zoe laughed softly then focused a harden gaze on the mercenary. "Jayne, you hit on me again and I'll make what River did to you in the Maidenhead seem like foreplay."

Wash looked up at this, mild surprise and amusement registering on his face as he followed the conversation. "Wait, what? River took Jayne out?"

There was a soft sobering that descended over the room. Zoe turned back to the table and absently re-straightened a few of the utensils. Jayne bent to look into the now boiling pot rather surreptitiously. Kaylee busied herself with putting away the empty breadbasket in a far corner of the kitchen, and River slipped delicately into one of the chairs and hid her face with her hair.

Only Mal met Wash's gaze. He hesitated for a moment as though he was going to change the subject, and then he shrugged and began to explain. "Jayne and I went into the Maidenhead to drop off Fanty and Mingo's cut of the deal," he started, picking up a bowl of food and carried it out to the table. "This is one you were on, last job we did together an'all." He glanced at Wash, who was listening patiently. It was the first time anything had been discussed around him regarding things he'd forgotten.

"So, River watches this crazy commercial playing over the Cortex, right? And it makes her go ape shit." He laughed softly as he recalled the events, although Wash could tell it was not a funny memory. "She takes out everyone in the bar, along with Jayne." Mal glanced over his shoulder at Jayne who was studiously ignoring him and the conversation. Mal shrugged. "Simon came in and calmed her right before I about put a bullet to her."

"Would have missed," River stated flatly.

"Might've," Mal agreed but kept his eyes on Wash. "Was worth seeing, to be sure. Girl has some serious skill."

Wash laughed softly, breaking up the tension a little. "I just find it hard to picture," he started and waved a hand in gesture. "River's like, what, ninety-pounds? How does a ninety-pound girl take out someone like Jayne?"

Jayne picked up the soup pot, carried it out to the table, and sat it down heavily. "Ain't like I were the only one she done in."

Kaylee piped up as she returned to the table and took a seat. "She grabbed him by the balls," she cheerfully explained. Her hand went up in demonstration. "Just a grab and a twist, like this," she mimicked the gesture and grinned brightly as Jayne twitched a little from across the table. "It'll bring a man to his knees every time."

Wash stared at her, aghast. "Well, thanks for that illustration." He quickly slipped into a chair and crossed his legs.

Kaylee smirked. "Just something Inara taught me once."

Mal eased into a seat beside Wash. "Always knew that woman weren't a good influence on you, Kaylee."

Wash leaned forward and began to help himself to the food being set out. "Well, it makes sense she'd know how to defend herself against overly aggressive clients."

Jayne began handing out bowls for the soup and tossed one at Wash. It missed and clattered to the floor.

"I'm honestly surprised you forgot that fight," Kaylee said after Wash had bent and retrieved his bowl. "We saw a recording of it later, too, 'n'everything. You laughed so hard the first time you heard the story."

"I'll bet," Wash agreed with a slight grin. He watched in contentment as everyone found their seats and began to load up their plates with food. The elusive family feeling he'd been looking for had returned, and this time he even felt included; he was a part of it. "So you're trusting me with secrets again?" he happily asked Mal. "What did I do right to deserve that?"

Mal glanced up. Something caught his eye, and he nodded at the galley steps. "You have the good doctor to thank for that," he said as he inclined his head towards Simon who had just appeared in the doorway. Simon hovered there uncertainly for a bit, his eyes on Wash. Mal continued on carefree. "He's been advocating support for you since you got back. He trusts you and thinks I should, too." He nodded approvingly over to Simon. "I decided to give it a month and see how I felt about all of this."

Wash had the good nature to stare down at his plate of food. Looking at Simon at that moment was impossible as the memory of their fight only minutes before returned to him. He wasn't even sure he could answer Mal. "Guess I passed the test, then?" he finally muttered in a soft tone.

Mal nodded returning his gaze to Wash. "Yeah, guess so. If you're a spy, you're the gorram lousiest one I ever saw." He laughed to himself and then settled down to eat. He reached for his napkin and found there wasn't one. "Simon, get the napkins, will you?"

Simon lingered by the doorway for a bit longer and then decided it was safe to enter. He slipped down the stairs and retrieved the napkins from one of the drawers. He handed them out quickly and took a seat on the far side of the table beside River. His eyes drifted to Wash for a moment before he unfolded his own napkin, set it in his lap, and busied himself with his food.

"Tomorrow, you get to fly her," River suddenly piped up, looking right at Wash.

Wash's head jerked up at that, and Mal nearly choked on his food. "What?" Wash demanded as his heart leapt into his throat. He was surprised at the excitement he heard in his voice. "Please don't let that be crazy talk again."

Mal had to chuckle at that. "Well, she's sort of right." He set his chopsticks down. "We agreed that tomorrow we'd let you ride shotgun." He rubbed the side of his nose for a few seconds, self-consciously. "We've got a job to run on Greenleaf. Shouldn't be too hard: just a bait and switch. Figured you'd appreciate getting in the pilot's seat again. Or co-pilot's seat, as it may be." He glanced at Wash and grinned even more seeing the smile Wash was now wearing. "It ain't much," he stated firmly. "Ain't letting you fly; just seein' if you can sit on your ass in the cabin without passin' out."

The way Wash shone after receiving that information was as though he had just been told the past year and a half had been a dream. He nodded passionately. "That's great!" he enthused. "I can prove that I'm fit to pilot still."

Mal shook his head mirthfully. "Well, don't get too cocky. Got a long ways to go, yet."

Wash was all smiles and buoyant as though he was already flying. Kaylee matched his grin, happy for him. Even Zoe seemed rather pleased that he was wearing an expression other than depressed, today. River studied him carefully and kept nodding affirmatively to herself. Simon carefully averted his eyes, and Jayne was too busy eating to notice what was happening. "Thanks, Mal," Wash breathed contently.

The conversation then turned to the mundane with vague hints about what cargo they'd be hauling in the morning. For the most part, they were quiet while they enjoyed their food, and Wash soaked in the homey atmosphere.

He sat there for a long time even after the meal was eaten and the dishes were cleared away. He nodded goodnight to Kaylee as she departed. He was about to ask a question to Zoe when Mal stood up to turn in. "G'night, captain," he said with a lazy grin.

Simon stood up a moment later, clearly cued to his feet by Mal's departure. He didn't say anything and just simply followed Mal up the stairs and into the crew quarters. Without eavesdropping, Wash could see the two of them standing in the corridor discussing something in low voices. He knew they were talking about him.

That broke his pleasant mood, and he pushed himself roughly to his feet. "Well, I've got a ridiculous amount of physical therapy sets to do before sleep," he said in an annoyed tone. "I'll see you ladies in the morning." He nodded his head to Zoe and River.

Jayne languidly got to his feet too. "I'll, uh, help spot you on those," he gruffly said.

Wash didn't acknowledge him or even glance his way; he just turned and started up the stairs towards the crew quarters, grinning darkly as he noted how Simon and Mal's conversation dropped off as soon as he approached. He enjoyed the way his arrival made Simon scatter, hurrying back down to the infirmary. Wash was fairly certain he'd interrupted their conversation before Simon had managed to say anything meaningful to Mal about him.

He continued on his way, this time only vaguely aware of Jayne following him down towards the cargo bay.
--

The following morning Wash was up and dressed before he gave himself much time to think about what he was doing. He climbed out of his bunk and bounded into the cabin for the first time since he had returned without giving the action enough thought to trigger a panic attack. It wasn't until his eyes fixed on the pilot chair River was sitting in--a newer, shiny model not yet broken in--that he was brought up short by his breath caught in his throat.

At first, he couldn't explain the cold chills that ran along his spine as he stared at the chair. It was, for the most part, meaningless to him. Various items around Serenity had been taken out and changed. The pilot chair had been old and rickety in places. It had had a seat harness that tended to stick, and the leather underneath it had been cracked and scratchy. Yet seeing a new chair in its place filled him with a strange sort of dread. The chair upset him far more than River sitting in it did, and that surprised him.

He realized, numbly, that he had died there.

He inched away from her and sank into the still recognizable co-pilot chair. His hands went out to touch the armrests, feeling its smooth familiarity and the soft, wooly cover seat stretched over it. At least the co-pilot chair was still the same. He patted the seat softly and then raised his hands to rest them on the co-pilot yoke with a heavy sigh. He tore his eyes off the pilot chair and fixed them on their current coordinates.

"It gets easier," River calmly stated after Wash had settled himself into his chair. She looked away from the windscreen and studied him with cool, brown eyes.

"Does it?" he asked softly.

She nodded warmly. "It does." Her eyes returned to the black; in the distance a blue and green world was fast approaching. "Each day it gets easier, little by little. One day you won't notice it at all."

One of Wash's hands rose to touch his chest. His fingers clasped at the zipper down his jumpsuit and at the few buttons of his Hawaiian shirt that covered it. "It'll still be there, though," he answered quietly.

River thought on this a bit and then nodded in agreement. "To take it away would change who you are," she explained softly. "You must transubstantiate it."

"What?" Wash asked, confused.

She gave him a tiny smile. "It's empty now. You have to fill it."

There was a silence for a bit. Wash watched the planet as it drew closer. He was impressed with River's abilities to handle the ship, but he didn't let it show. The girl did seem to have natural talent. "With what?" he finally whispered.

Her smile broadened as her eyebrows went up. "Dinosaurs?" she questioned casually. She lifted a finger and stroked lovingly down the nose of a plastic Tyrannosaurus Rex that sat to her left on the console.

Wash's eyes widened as he took the figure in. He quickly noticed two of his other dinosaurs and a few plastic palm trees on the dash. He was too stunned to say anything. He was shocked he hadn't seen them upon entering and impressed they were still sitting on the console.

River patted the Tyrannosaurus Rex's head. "They've missed you. You never visited."

Wash blinked out of his reverie. "I didn't think . . . I figured Zoe boxed them away somewhere. They've been here this whole time?" he questioned.

River nodded. "Sometimes they fall," she knocked the Tyrannosaurus Rex over. "But they always come back. Zoe sets them up."

Wash looked away from them and stared at the ceiling for several long seconds. He couldn't describe the way his heart was pounding, and he wasn't sure why it was, either. So Zoe set up his dinosaurs on occasion and had kept them in place there for over a year. That didn't mean anything, really, did it? It meant that she had loved him once, which he knew. And it meant that she honored his memory by keeping his dinosaurs there.

He bowed his head as his throat tightened and his eyes began to burn; he feared he was about to start crying.

"Do you want to fly?" River quietly asked.

This made him look up at her, his tears forgotten. "But Mal said . . ."

"Shhh," she whispered and easily reached over and flipped a few switches. She turned control of the ship over to the co-pilot chair and gave him a secret smile. "You have two minutes," she whispered.

Wash's heart was still pounding as his grip on the yoke tightened. He felt a thrill of exhilaration shoot through him as Serenity shivered and responded to his touch. He didn't have to do much—she was already well calibrated and aimed in the right direction. He just adjusted her flight pattern a hair and grinned happily at the way she responded so easily to his touch.

It was like coming home in a way he hadn't ever thought he could. The view was different from the co-pilot's chair, but the feelings were the same. It was pure joy to control the ship again, and in doing so, the dread he felt from seeing the replaced pilot's chair faded. The dinosaurs sitting on the console just seemed to belong.

"Thank you," he whispered softly.

It was over too soon. River reached over and quickly changed the controls back to her side of the ship as the approaching sound of feet announced the arrival of the captain.

Wash straightened and took his hands off the yoke as Mal, Zoe, and Jayne filed into the cockpit behind him. Zoe moved to stand behind River; Jayne took up residence behind Wash's chair. Mal raised his arms and hung off a pipe in the middle of the cabin, leaning forward and looking at Greenleaf absently.

"Six minutes and forty-seven seconds," River stated without prompting.

Mal nodded to himself and then glanced to Wash. "How's it sit?"

Jayne's hand were resting on the back of Wash's chair, and the presence of someone behind him made him tense; his back was rigid, and he probably looked more ill at ease than he felt. "It's fine," he replied with a little difficulty. He inclined his head towards the plastic toys. "Glad to see my dinosaurs were well taken care of."

Mal looked over to the dinosaurs and nodded. "Yeah, they became our mascots of sorts." He chuckled and shook his head. "River fill you in on the plan?" he asked, turning business like.

Wash glanced to River and then shook his head. "No, she didn't."

"That's fine," Mal replied. "'Cause you don't do much." He glanced to Jayne who was peering out at the planet over Wash's head. "We land, do the job, come back, and we take off. River flies, and you sit there and look pretty."

Wash crossed his arms and sat back smugly, despite Jayne hovering over him. "Looking pretty I can do fairly well," he agreed easily.

"Not as well as me," Mal replied with a grin but then nodded, looking forward. "All right, bring us in, River."

She shifted just a bit in her chair, and Serenity responded accordingly. The planet engulfed the windscreen, and the ship rattled as they hit the white-hot atmosphere. River held the ship steady like a professional, her eyes locked firmly on her controls as she applied the exact right amounts of pressure and resistance to break their descent.

The ship slowed as it lost altitude, and before long the trembling shook into a soft thrum as they fought air resistance. One of River's hands stretched out effortlessly and began flipping switches as she brought the ship over to planet-side flight.

Wash resisted the urge to start the sequencing with her. He could have done it from the co-pilot chair, but he resisted. Mal didn't trust him on the controls yet, even if River did. He just kept his arms crossed and spent time watching River operate, occasionally checking their descent pattern to see how on course she remained.

River flipped the last of the three switches on the upper right, completing the airborne sequencing and returned her hand to the yoke. With a gentle nudge, she pressed the ship forward, and soon they were skimming over mountains and trees. Her eyes darted casually to the landing patterns on the console, and she manually adjusted the ship as she flew. "One minute, fifteen seconds," she announced into the silence.

They braced for landing, but she brought them in smoothly. She set the ship down in the small docking port of a rather backwater part of the planet. The landing was perfect, and the ship only barely shivered. River quickly started the cool down sequence, flipping switching effortlessly as she did.

Mal nodded, content with the proceeding and let go of the pipe over head. "Shiny. We'll be back in a few hours. Shouldn't take long."

"Be careful, you guys," Wash called out habitually. He found he still did care, even if it was in different ways.

Mal and Zoe pushed off, Jayne following after them a few seconds behind.

When their footsteps had faded into silence behind them, Wash turned in his chair to look at River. Her eyes were fixed on the Tyrannosaurus Rex again, and a quizzical expression had settled on her face. "It filled, and then emptied."

Wash blinked a little and stared at her. "What?"

She looked away from the dinosaur and studied him. "You're too illogical."

He had to laugh at the unexpectedness of that. "How so?"

"You died. It isn't possible for you to be here." Her brows furrowed. "It defies logic."

He gave her a smirk. "Hasn't your brother explained this to you? The Alliance fixed me and put in a new heart and lungs and stuff. He's very impressed with me." He rolled his eyes a little and then waggled his fingers. "I'm like his shiny new toy."

River shook her head. "We buried you," she stated firmly. "They dug you up. It isn't right." She put a hand to her head and tugged at her hair.

"Don't freak out, okay? I wouldn't know what to do, and I don't want to have to go get Simon right now."

She shook her head angrily. "There are better people to bring back than you. It was your time, and you shouldn't be here." She got to her feet, angered. "You're going to betray us."

That stunned Wash. He thought he had almost come to common ground with River a moment before when they'd been flying together. Now she was accusing him of a betrayal he hadn't done? "That isn't fair," he protested softly.

She stared at him and stepped closer in the space between the two pilot consoles. Her eyes fixed on his carefully. "You walk a very narrow path. Teeter either way and you'll fall. When you do, you'll never be picked up again. Do you know that? You're so close right now. So close, the edge is cutting you." Her hand raised and she extended a finger towards him. It wasn't as though she was pointing at him, though, she was almost reaching out to touch him.

"I'm doing the best I can," he retorted, confused.

"You're not," she answered. "You're illogical, and you know you are. You do illogical things because of it. They're going to find out soon, and when they do, you're going to fall." She wasn't happy about this. "It's stupid."

Wash got to his feet, perturbed. He felt his anger flaring to life. "I'm surviving, aren't I?" he demanded. "I've put on weight and learned to walk again, no thanks to you. What more do you want from me?"

River shook her head. "You're empty," she stated, explaining. "Nothing good will come of an empty shell." She dropped her hand and stepped away from him, heading toward the cabin door. She turned to face him as she stood in the archway. "It isn't logical." Then she fled, her bare feet slapping softly on the metal floor as she went.

Wash sank back into the co-pilot's chair after she had gone, trying unsuccessfully to rebottle his freshly flared anger and reconcile his confusion.