River seemed to partially recover from her attack the closer they got to their rendezvous point. It was clear she was still agitated, but her sentences had become less sporadic and she was functioning more or less normally. Simon kept a close eye on her in case she went into remission, but she was given free rein of the ship again. No one knew what had triggered the attacks, not even River. Although she was free to roam, Simon tended to keep a close eye on her.

On the third day after taking off, River found Mal and Wash sitting together in the lounge in the galley. They'd taken to talking there quietly during their off-hours over the past two days. She stopped in front of them and studied their faces impassively.

Mal inclined his head, looking up at her. "Feelin' better today?" he questioned.

She studied him a moment longer and shook her head negatively. "It's confusing inside. Like it used to be. There's chaos, and then it's quiet."

Mal gestured to the chair beside him, encouraging her to sit. She complied, drawing her legs up to her chest. He reached over and patted her knee. "Your brother'll figure it out. He always does."

"He doesn't remember how," River softly replied. Her eyes alighted on Wash. "Things have changed so much. Everyone's forgotten but you," she added in a whisper.

Wash laughed uncertainly. "I think I'm the one who forgot," he answered with a small smile. "Last thing I remember, you were still all-crazy."

"Girl got better," Mal intoned softly. "She really, truly did."

River sat back in reflection of this. "The days were clear with blue skies and no clouds." She tilted her head thoughtfully. "Time was cyclical again and didn't overlap. The voices stopped crying out for manumission." She squeezed her eyes tightly shut. "Now they cry again. Different voices; people alive and people dead." She opened her eyes again, still fixed on Wash. "Everyone else forgot."

"Forgot what?" Wash questioned, confused.

She shook her head, almost violently. "We forgot! We can't remember if we forgot." She scrambled to her feet. "You have to remember for us." She tore her eyes off Wash with much difficulty and fixed them on Mal. "Help him remember."

Mal started to his feet, confused. He reached for her, but she jerked back quickly before he could touch her. "No, not me. Don't worry about the girl. Waste of time. Time. Too short. So little." She tugged at her hair and skipped backwards a little. "I'll be all right. Help him." Her other hand stretched out and pointed a long, bony finger at Wash. "Him."

She turned on her heels and took off back through the galley down the passageway to the crew quarters.

When she was gone, Mal blinked and turned to look down at Wash with a bewildered expression on his face. "What th'hell was that all about?"

"Notice me with the whole not-having-a-clue face," Wash replied, just as befuddled.

Mal gave him a wry grin and sat back down in his chair, shaking his head, confused. "What I don't need on this boat is for that girl to go all dian-feng again."

There was a pause while Wash asserted his thoughts. He shrugged, "What made her better, Mal? I mean, the first time."

Mal met his eyes and held them. His gaze was hard at first, like the subject matter was one he didn't want to discuss. Then, his expression softened. "You were there. You know, when it happened," he replied at last.

Wash's eyes fell to his knees. "Maybe that's what she wants you to help me remember."

Mal mused over this. "Maybe so. Not sure it's possible t'repeat the event, though. It happened back on Miranda after she brought us to that dead resort world. We watched this holovid, and she just got better."

Wash's brows furrowed, contemplating. "You know, that does sound vaguely familiar. What did the vid say?"

One of Mal's hands went out, gesturing. "Just explained what happened to the planet. It was screwed up by the Alliance." He waved his hand a little and closed his eyes, clearly trying to think. "There was some mix up in th'air when they terraformed the planet or somethin'." He opened his eyes and fixed them back on Wash. "Ended up killin' all the folk there."

"Kaylee mentioned that a little . . . and I admit, I did a little research on it before I joined back up with you guys. It all seems sort of fishy to me, though. River risked all our lives to go find this dead world—but why?" Wash asked.

Mal shifted uncomfortably. He was clearly agitated by the conversation. "Well, apparently the deaths were all being covered up by the Alliance, and she exposed 'em."

"And did that do anything?"

Mal looked at him critically. "What do you mean?"

"Well, did it change anything? If millions of people died on the Alliance's watch, wouldn't that bother some people?"

"Perhaps you've also forgotten that war we just had?" Mal questioned stoically.

"But those were losses people were prepared to take," he countered. "An entire planet killed off and those people just swept quietly under the rug? Doesn't that seem, oh, I dunno, a little suspicious to you?" he questioned earnestly.

"Well, that's why we had to tell the 'verse 'bout what really happened," Mal began.

"And so I ask again, did it do anything? Did anything change? Did it topple the Alliance or change the 'verse in any significant way?" Wash pressed.

Mal was at a loss for words. "Changed us on this boat, that's for sure."

"Right. And this is the cause I died for?" He shook his head. "No, there must have been something else. Something I learned and have since forgotten about. That's why the Alliance dug me up and reanimated me. I knew something they needed."

"That's ain't possible," Mal protested.

"Why not?"

"We were with you th'whole time, from the point we saw the holovid about the terraforming accident t'when y'died. Anythin' you saw, we all saw," Mal answered quickly, shaking his head.

This stumped Wash. "And were you with me when I died?"

Mal was silent for a moment and looked away. Then he nodded. "Was lookin' right at you, in fact," he replied softly.

"Oh," Wash answered, twisting his hands in his lap. "Well, wait. How did you survive if I died?"

Clearly, Mal didn't want to talk about this. "You crashed us, and when y'did, some shrapnel came through the windscreen," he softly stated.

Wash simply stared at Mal, trying to wrap his brain around the image of that. "Shrapnel . . . through the windscreen?" he echoed disbelievingly.

Mal nodded but kept his eyes off Wash. "One of th'gorram worst things I ever seen." He raised his eyes and fixed them on Wash's. "And I seen a lot. Zoe was there, too."

Instinctively, Wash raised a hand to his breast and clutched at the fabric stretched over his repaired chest. He felt his artificial heart acutely surge with his thoughts and emotions, trying to contain and quantify them. It hurt, and he closed his eyes tightly. "Then what?" he whispered. "What did Zoe do?"

Mal shifted on his seat, angling himself towards Wash more. The conversation had completely derailed from the previous topic, but he could tell this was more important. Wash deserved to know. "She went to you and tried t'pull you away. We had t'go, and she tried to get you to come, but she couldn't. You were pinned right to the chair." Mal cleared his throat and lifted his face to look around the galley for a distraction. "She ran her fingers through your hair," he said softly. He lifted one of his hands and rubbed his face at the memory. "Then I had to grab her and pull her away."

"Why?" Wash whispered.

Mal pressed his lips together. "Alliance was following us. We had to get the message about Miranda out, and we didn't have time to grieve for you just then."

Wash blinked a few times and focused his eyes on Mal. "So, you just left me there?"

Mal nodded. "Weren't easy, believe you me."

"And you're sure I was dead?" he prompted unexpectedly. "Maybe the Alliance came on board and said something important I overheard? Maybe that's it?"

The look Mal gave him told him he was far from the mark. "Wash . . . there ain't no way. You died instantly," he explained. The strangeness of the conversation struck Mal briefly before he continued. "That thing went right through your heart."

Disturbed by all of this, Wash pushed to his feet and paced a little. "Well, then what River's saying doesn't make any sense."

Mal sighed deeply. "She don't always got to." He got to his feet. "Look, didn't mean t'upset y'none. Try not t'let River worry you."

"I appreciate you telling me, Mal. I really do," Wash replied.

Mal didn't know how to respond to that, so he just gave a sad, little smile to Wash. "I've got things to, you know, do. Captainy things."

"Of course."

"I'll talk to you later," he assured him.

Wash shook his head, bemused, as he watched Mal stalk off across the galley and vanish down the corridor to the cargo bay.
--

"Kaylee," Wash called as he poked his head into the engine room. "Can I borrow you for a few minutes?"

Kaylee was working with a small, silver tool to par and separate some of Serenity's wires that ran out of her Grav Boot. "Wash!" she said cheerfully, looking up. "What can I do you for?"

Wash held in his hand two silver cans of vegetables. "I'm going to make dinner tonight," he explained. "And since, ideally, I'd like it to be palatable, I thought I'd get your help."

"Oh, shiny!" she exclaimed. She replaced one of the wires back into its socket and got to her feet, wiping her greasy hands on her coveralls. "Of course I'll help! Though I ain't hardly the best cook on this boat, not by far."

"I'll take whatever help I can get," Wash replied with a soft smile on his face. "Zoe and I aren't exactly buddy-buddy yet, and I'd really rather not have to ask Jayne."

"Well, River ain't so bad," Kaylee suggested with a shrug.

"Did I mention I'm going for edible?" Wash repeated. "Right now River's sort of still . . . more likely to dump the ingredients into my hair and scream about the cargo than exactly help me prepare a proper meal."

Kaylee matched his grin and nodded. "Well, you do got a point." She bent and closed the casing on the wire bed before standing up. "Lemme just wash up real quick, and I'll be happy to help you. There any special occasion?"

Wash turned and started walking down the corridor that separated the engine room from the kitchen as she followed him. "Not particularly. Just feel I ought to pull my weight on this boat a bit, and we haven't had a decent meal in some time. Figured me making something could be a bit of a thank-you to Mal for putting up with me for so long."

Kaylee grinned brightly and stepped into the galley as Wash stepped aside to let her enter first. "Oh, well, that's real shiny, Wash." Her eyes twinkled as she looked over at him. "You two sure been spendin' lots of time together lately," she noted as she passed the table, heading to the sink to wash her hands. "Seems every time I come out t'th'kitchen lately, there you are gabbin' away like a pair o'hens." She laughed.

Wash looked embarrassed but was good-natured about it. "Yeah," he fidgeted and set the cans on the countertop, smiling nervously. "Well, he's actually started taking time out of his busy, angst-filled day to notice I exist. In the end, it's rather beneficial to both of us, I think."

Kaylee studied him while she lathered and scrubbed. "Yeah. Your temper sure has improved lots."

Wash pulled the electric can opener to him and started on the cans he'd brought her. "Yeah." He seemed ashamed about it. "I guess I just needed someone to talk to."

She turned the sink water off. "You know," she said softly as she dried her hands and walked to him, "I was always there for you. I tried t'be, leastways."

"I know," he answered resignedly. Kaylee got a pot out and handed it to him; he poured the contents from the first can into it. "I just didn't want to burden you with my problems."

He thought Kaylee would have been more upset by this, but she just nodded. "Know how that is," she whispered.

His back stiffened as he realized she had lots of secrets that she, too, had been bottling up inside. He didn't think she'd found an outlet for them yet, either. "If you ever want to talk to me, you can, you know," he offered.

Kaylee took the pot from him, added some water, placed it on the stovetop, and set it to cook. "That's real sweet of you, Wash. But I know y'don't bother me 'cause y'don't want t'load me down with your problems, and, likewise, I don't want t'load you with mine."

Wash felt bad about this development, but also a little grateful. He slipped the second can into the can opener and sighed. "How do you deal with it all?"

Kaylee gave him a sweet, reassuring smile. "I wave 'Nara lots," she answered cheerfully. "That, and chocolate." She laughed.

Wash's eyebrows went up, surprised. "You have chocolate?"

Kaylee shrugged. "Well, I did. It's all gone now."

He tried not to look too crestfallen. "So . . . Inara, huh? You two talk a lot?" he asked casually as he threw the lid away and poured the contents into the pot.

"Probably once a week," Kaylee replied. "What else we makin' with this?"

Wash looked at the canned corn and carrots now cooking and then back to Kaylee. "Maybe some chicken protein? Mal likes chicken, right?"

Kaylee nodded. "Yeah." She began opening the storage lockers, looking for the protein stock.

"So, once a week. Wow. How is she?" he questioned.

Kaylee spoke as she pulled out protein and set it aside. "She's good. Teachin' at a Training House out on the Border, like she was before. They respect her real well, I guess, and she likes the calm."

"Does she know I'm--" he gestured with the spoon he'd picked up to stir the vegetables with, "you know, all back and uncorpsified and stuff?"

Kaylee laughed softly. "Yeah, I told her. She was skeptical at first, but I think she sort of understands now. She says weirder things have happened."

"Really?" Wash asked, looking over his shoulder as Kaylee cut the protein down and laid out spices to roll it in. "What's weirder than guys coming back from the dead?"

"How 'bout that time Jayne bought us all apples?" Kaylee answered with a grin.

Wash had to think back, but then he nodded. "Oh, yeah. That was really weird." His brow furrowed at the memory. He was glad to find that thinking of Jayne didn't make his skin crawl this time. "Did we ever figure out what that was all about?"

Kaylee shook her head. "S'what's so weird about it."

"An apple sounds good right about now," Wash stated absently.

"Maybe after this heist we can get off-world and restock. Apples and chocolate, Wash. Real food. I can almost taste it." She looked over her shoulder at him, grinning.

"And a real bath. My god, do you know how long it's been since I've had a real bath?" He sighed at the very thought of it.

"Well, since you're all on the capt'n's good side right now, you wheedle him hard t'convince him we need some shore leave." Kaylee gave him a brilliant, encouraging smile. "I'm countin' on you for this!"

Wash nodded vigorously. "What'd you think all this good food was for? Best way to a man's heart is through his stomach," he intoned. "Our captain is no exception."

Kaylee put the protein-chicken onto a skillet and walked back over to Wash. "Y'wanna cook these, or should I?" she questioned.

"Maybe you've forgotten the time I burnt Book's garden salad?" he questioned jovially. "Me with the cooking and the fire . . . not such a winning combination."

Kaylee laughed, set the skillet on the stove, and looked up at him. "It sure is nice to have you back, Wash," she merrily stated.

He looked down at her, grinning softly and nodded. "Sure is nice to be home."
--

After dinner, everyone retired to their own quarters to sleep off the good food and their satiated bellies. Unsurprisingly, Wash found himself alone again in the mess with just Mal for company. They were sitting across the table from each other, both leaning back in their chairs and quite content with the meal they had just eaten.

"I could get used t'cookin' like that every night," Mal mused softly.

Wash felt more full than he had in months. "Me too, sir," he agreed. "We have Kaylee to thank for it, though. It was her great cooking skills that saved that protein from my fiery hands of doom."

Mal's lips curved into a smile as he looked across the table at Wash. "Glad t'see you eatin' again."

Wash averted his eyes. "Nice to have an appetite."

"You talked t'Jayne?" Mal questioned.

Wash pressed his lips together tightly. "Not so much with the talking," he answered and brought his gaze to Mal. "There were a few significant glances, though. Which, I think, means we've silently agreed to never speak on it again." His brow furrowed. "Either that or he's expecting me in his bunk right now."

Mal almost laughed at that. "My brain still goes into horror-overload when I think about it too much. I mean, honestly—Jayne?"

Wash put his hands up in defense. "Can I plead temporary insanity?"

Mal arched an eyebrow. "For over a month?"

"Hey, I know," he stated quickly, "how about instead of playing How-Sick-Was-That? we play Look-How-Much-Better-He-Is-Now-That-He's-Not-Sleeping-With-The-Hairy-Man-Ape-Colossus?"

Mal's smile was soft, but his eyes seemed slightly pained. "I just wish you'd come to me first, is all." He shook his head. "Wish I'd noticed it sooner."

Wash rested his hands on the tabletop. "You were too distracted by my clever, unintentional spyish ploys. That, and feeling sorry for yourself."

"What? I wasn't," Mal protested abruptly.

"You were," Wash countered. "You were doing the whole looking-down-and-appearing-angsty thing. You do that look very well. There were long eyelashes and pouty lips and everything. I could tell you'd been practicing."

"What?" Mal asked, his expression somewhere between bewilderment and mirth. "There were no pouty lips."

Wash gave him a 'whatever you say' expression, shrugged, and crossed his arms. "They're not so pouty now," he reassured him. "Haven't seen you pouting at all this week. Must be a new record."

"I don't pout," Mal protested again. "What have I even got to pout about?"

Wash kept a smile on his face, but his expression turned just a little more serious. "Do you really want me to go into that?"

Mal didn't answer, but his eyes implied he wanted to hear what he couldn't bring himself to ask.

"I talk about how lonely I am, and you tell me how lonely you are and how you've learned to deal with that loneliness." Wash focused his gaze on Mal as he spoke. "I talk about what it's like to lose everything I've ever known, and you tell me how it was when you lost everything you ever knew and how you dealt with it. I talk about how much I miss Zoe, and you remind me that at least I had a wonderful wife to love at all.

"I tell you how horrible it was to die and return to a changed world, and you tell me about all the people you've known who died trying to change the world." He smiled tightly, forceing himself to keep a rein on his emotions. "You're a da nao si wang ben dan if you really think those deaths are your fault, too."

Mal looked away from him, his countenance close to angst and pouting. "I should've seen what was going to hap--" he started.

"Oh, shut it, Mal," Wash cut him off. "No one blames you. The people to blame are the Alliance. I know how much you like blaming them, so, all this negative energy you've got?" he lifted his hands and drew them in towards himself. "I want you to ball it up like this," he gestured, "and send it to Jayne's bunk." He smiled.

Mal had to chuckle at that. The laughter in his eyes brightened his expression and lightened the darkness around him. His tone was still somber when he spoke, "Not even Jayne deserves the visions I see."

Wash nodded emphatically. "And you're a better man than Jayne, so how do you figure you deserve them?"
--

The following day, Serenity arrived at their rendezvous point. Wash sat at the helm, and Mal stood behind his chair. Zoe held her position between the two pilot consoles, and River sat in the co-pilot's chair, claiming to be recovered but clearly still unsettled. Their coordinates for meeting were an arbitrary point in space, but when they arrived, they found no ship waiting.

"Maybe we're early?" Wash suggested, double-checking their coordinates. "Or, you know, they could be late. That's happened before."

"I've got a very bad feeling about this," Zoe intoned from where she was standing. She leaned forward against an overhead pipe, looking out through the observation windows.

Mal's face was set impassively, too. "They should be here." His eyes drifted to River. "You feel anything, Albatross?"

River glanced to him and then back to the stars. "The ship was here," she explained softly. "But they're all dead now."

"Okay! Well, am I the only one who finds that news bordering on the extremely unsettling?" Wash inquired quickly.

"Dead where?" Mal asked her, ignoring Wash. "Dead how?"

Her hands flew to the ship's co-pilot controls, and she began typing. "Destroyed. Five days ago." Her typing zoomed in on a not-too-distant location in space, and her finger pointed to it on the monitor screen. "Here."

Mal shifted around Zoe and leaned down to peer at the girl's read out. "How?"

"Fire. No survivors."

"That about lines up with the timing of her crazy spell, sir," Zoe noted.

"That it does," Mal agreed, unhappily. "Wash, take us to these coordinates," he said, tapping the screen. "River, let our friends know there's been a little hitch and their merchandise might be a bit late on the delivery."

She shook her head negatively but went about setting out the wave.

Serenity arrived at the nearby void of space where the ship had been destroyed. There was nothing left now except bits of space debris, small and unidentifiable. "This wasn't a fight," Mal noted immediately. "This was annihilation."

River shifted uncomfortably. "They aren't answering," she whispered. "They can't."

Wash double-checked River's wave frequency and found only static. "Whoever we're trying to call was forcefully disconnected, guys." His tone was grave, implying the worst.

"Ni ta ma de tian xia bing li di yu!" Mal cursed angrily. "This ain't no accident," he announced.

"They don't want us to find out," River whispered.

"Wash, take us out of here now," Mal demanded. "Don't want whoever did this comin' back for more."

"Where to?" Wash inquired, already turning the ship away from the debris.

"Far is good. Just go," Mal replied.

As soon as new coordinates were set, Mal pushed off Wash's chair and stalked through the corridors. "Zoe, Jayne! With me!" he shouted.

"Wait!" Wash shouted. "Where are you going?"

Mal kicked Jayne's bunk door in, rousing him. "Get up here!" He addressed Wash next. "We're gonna see why knock-off soda's worth killin' for."

Jayne clamored up out of his bunk, and he, Mal, and Zoe continued towards the cargo bay. Wash put the ship into autopilot and sprung to his feet. He had an inexplicable need to be there when they opened the cargo.

He didn't need to glance back to see that River was hot on his heels.
--

By the time Wash and River had made it downstairs to the cargo bay, the crates of stock were already open. Jayne had a case of Xin Zui soda stacked on top of one of the crates and was pulling it apart with his bare hands.

"What's going on?" Wash asked as he hurried to meet the other three.

"Ain't soda these folks're after," Jayne explained, finally ripping the case open. Several shiny aluminum cans rolled out and fell, bouncing on the cargo floor. They had the Xin Zui cola logo printed on them and a cartoonish drawing of a very happy mouth. There was nothing else. Jayne grunted and tossed the empty case aside.

"Not that one," River stated as glided to them, through the cargo. "This one," she urged and put her hands flat on one of the many crates in the cargo bay.

No one asked questions, they just cracked the wooden crate open. River circled the cases, coming closer to Mal. "Under," she commanded, and soon everyone was shifting and stacking cases aside, revealing even more hidden in the middle.

"There," she whispered and stopped, her hand pointing now at one case that looked virtually indistinguishable from the others.

Mal gave a significant glance to Jayne. No words were required for Jayne to grab it and crack it open like the first one. This case was different – it was filled with dummy cans. River selected one, seemingly at random. She twisted it carefully, and it split in two, opening to reveal a small, clear plastic-like memory disc. She held it up to the cargo bay lights, watching the light shine through the plastic onto her dress.

"Found you," she whispered.
--

Back in the cockpit, Wash put the memory disc into Serenity's computer and loaded the program. Kaylee and Simon had surfaced, too, cramping the bridge. All seven of them watched the monitor as the first images loaded.

It wasn't a holovid like they'd seen on Miranda, where the problem was immediately explained to them. Instead, the memory tab showed pages and pages of documents and text, most of it clearly originated from an Alliance base.

"What the hell is this?" Mal demanded as his brow furrowed.

River stretched up on her toes to touch the monitor. Her eyes closed. "Alliance bad," she whispered. She pulled away from the monitor as though she'd been burned.

Simon stepped to her protectively, but she didn't let him touch her. "It's all there," she whispered. "Everything we forgot."

Wash, who had been reading through the documents the whole time, whispered, "Wo de ma. Mal, this . . . these are plans for an elaborate subterfuge mission that would undermine the Blue Sun Corporation."

"Yes," River agreed, nodding.

"What?" Mal queried, turning back to the documents. "How so?"

River tightly closed her eyes. "They think they can make people better." She whispered as if she was quoting. "Every eye, every ear; they think they can change them, make them puppets." She opened her eyes and focused them directly on Mal. "It's clear, now. I can see the whole." She reached out and clutched Mal's hands. Her eyes were intense.

"Big Brother," she whispered, "is watching you." She released her grip.

"It looks like there's a subliminal program Blue Sun controls," Wash read. "It says here that they've got the power to control what we think, eat, and do."

"It controls the votes," River whispered. Her eyes had moved to stare at Wash. "It controls the feelings." She winced and shook her head. "My feelings."

"I don't get it," Jayne prompted. "What's on the disc?"

"Proof," Wash breathed. "Proof that the Alliance, through Blue Sun, is manipulating people over the Cortex."

"That's awful!" Kaylee cried and looked around the faces of the crew for agreement. "Right? We ought t'do somethin'."

"They killed both our contacts," Zoe reminded them. "We got no reason to assume they won't come kill us, too, soon as they track us down."

Mal cursed again. "It ain't just fate that brings this shit to me," he hissed.

"Isn't fate," River agreed. "They trusted you. Knew you'd do it, if you knew." She kept her eyes on Mal. "'See it through,' they said. Knew you were sympathetic. Knew you forgot; hoped you'd remember."

"Forgot what?" Wash suddenly demanded.

River wheeled back at his words and staggered, almost falling over. "Everything!" she shouted. Simon moved to her quickly, but she pushed him away.

"We gotta broadcast something again?" Jayne asked, ignoring River's outburst and trying to make sense of the information. "Well, why we standing here doing nothin'? I say we go find some new Mr. Universe and do it."

"Can't," Kaylee stated. "Don't work like that no more." After the attention had been turned to Kaylee, she elaborated. "C'mon, y'all know after we broadcasted from there, the Alliance took over and shut it down."

Jayne looked at Mal and Wash eagerly, rather anxious to get on their good side again. "So, we storm the place. Can't be that hard. We done it once."

"But it don't work like that no more," Kaylee repeated. 'Lliance fixed it so people can't do broadcasts like that," Kaylee countered. "Not from here, not from there. Not from no where." She took on a scowl. "Guess they didn't like our message."

"Can't you rig something up that will?" Mal inquired.

"What, me?" Kaylee questioned and then waved her hand, dismissively. "Hell no, Capt'n. I talk to ships and fix broken parts. I ain't no good with computers."

Mal looked away from her, disappointed. His eyes focused on Zoe, arms crossed and looking hard at a mote of space between her and the floor. "Zoe?" he questioned, drawing her attention up.

She blinked and fixed her eyes on him. "I ain't eager t'relive that whole thing, sir. Don't quite fancy myself takin' up arms for a 'cause might not mean nothin' and risk our lives again for them that don't want us to."

Wash quickly interjected. "Give me a day to study this stuff, Mal." He was looking at Zoe while he spoke. "Me and River can look over it, see if makes any sense . . . if it does, and the risk is worth it . . . then we can decide what to do."

Mal's eyes were dark again but he nodded. "I want everyone t'get a look at this," he stated, turning to the whole crew. "Ain't gonna go charging in again on some fool-hearted plan if everyone don't want to." His eyes rested on Jayne, but it was clear the mercenary was the least of his worries.

"There's a lot of information here," Mal stated. He bent to type on the controls, sending copies to everyone on the ship. "Y'all best get t'readin' it."

Reluctantly, they started heading back to their individual quarters to read through the information and ponder what was happening. Mal was left on the bridge with just Wash and Zoe. "Where we headed?" he asked after a few moments.

Wash kept his eyes on the document still displaying on the monitor above him. "I plotted a course for Greenleaf," he replied without looking away. "Figured we could hide out and fuel up there."

"Fine. What's the ETA?"

Finally, Wash brought his gaze back to the flight plan. "Day and a quarter," he answered.

"Good. Get me when we're close."
--

That evening, Wash sat alone in his bunk and read through all the data stored on the memory tab. It was a staggering amount, but the more he read, the more things began to make sense to him. Things were familiar. He knew about the subliminal messages, somehow. Oddly enough, it reminded him of fruit granola bars.

He lay back on his bed and stared at the ceiling until the lyrics of an old, jaunty commercial returned to him. He sang the words softly to himself. "Fruity oaty bars make a man out of a mouse." He closed his eyes, trying to visualize the cartoon commercial. "Fruity oaty bars make you burst out of your blouse."

Suddenly, he saw River bathed in a pale bluish-white light as she mouthed the word, 'Miranda.' He sat up sharply in bed and gasped. Memories flooded back to him in rapid order: River taking out everyone in the bar, including Jayne. The crew at Haven and the fire and the stench of death in the air. The soul-scaring remembrance of the name of Reavers being invoked.

His hands clutched the bed sheets as he doubled over at the memories. He saw himself flying the ship and knew there were thousands of Reavers on his tail. He didn't remember where he was going, but Mal and Zoe were with him. He was flying so hard, it was like he'd slipped into a strange zone. There were Reavers and there were Alliance, and they were all the same. He was flying harder and harder, and he knew he could taste the blood in his mouth. He knew he was going to die soon. He was going to be killed by the Reavers.

Serenity crashed -- he crashed her -- but not until he gave the Reavers the flight of their lives. He remembered clearly now the relief that flooded him when he landed the ship largely intact. He remembered the serene calm of an impossible job done well. He remembered Zoe's glowing warmth and Mal's distant praise. And then he remembered nothing. Hollow pain and an Alliance prison cell. He was dead.

His eyes snapped open, and he realized one of his hands was clutching his chest hard enough to bruise. His fingers dug through the fabric to the mottled purple skin that made up his reconstructed flesh. His heart pounded hard in his ears, and he shuddered knowing it was artificial—not his real heart—but it ached all the same.

He struggled to catch his breath and quell the pounding blood in his ears, and only then did he notice movement to his left. Turning his bewildered eyes, he saw Mal's legs as they came down the ladder into his bunk. A moment later Mal dropped fully into his sparse room. Their eyes met, and Mal immediately knew something was wrong. Wash tried to swallow his sudden terror. He wasn't important now; everything else was.

"Wash," Mal began, his face concerned in a way Wash had never seen. He started over, but Wash put his other hand up to block him.

"We can do this, Mal," he gruffly breathed.

"What?" Mal questioned. His eyes searched Wash's for explanation. He almost looked scared; there was an intense concern for him in Mal's eyes.

"We can deliver this message," Wash explained, struggling for breath. "Stop the Alliance and Blue Sun . . . we can do it." Wash looked up at Mal pointedly as he pushed off the bed and staggered to his feet. "I remember everything now. I know we can do it."

"How?" Mal finally questioned, clearly confused.

"I can do it," Wash replied. He took a deep breath and found a calmness settling over him. His look turned serious and his eyes narrowed as he studied Mal's face. "But we have to go to Londinium."