I don't own Firefly and I don't make any profit from this stuff. There - official stuff over with. Also, I suppose I'd better warn you that the following isn't exactly fluffy stuff and is probably a little bit contraversial.

Descending. From ship and mind and from more choices to more voices. He descends upon Serenity and looks down on it. Into it. Listening with mind and ears, within and without, to all their fears and words. She does have an oddness to her. Little words that run into one another – oddness, couldn't, shouldn't, reader, psychic, witch. All too easy.

They're so quick to betray, so quick to fear the witch. How long before fear turns to hatred? Burn the witch, you big damn heroes. He is the Devil: he is my father and my leman as much as he is me, as all witches are born from congress with the Beast: born out of fear, of hatred and betrayal. Not a person… but an object of fear.

A psychic or an assassin? Which is worse… or do they care? They walk from that table like they walk away from choosing; like they walk away from me. And I can do the same. They can sleep, but I can hide. Hide inside, outside, inside, outside. Hide and seek, strong and weak. I shall hide and he shall seek.

He is the devil in my mind and their minds and what they all fear. An assassin of black and blood and not me, not me, not me! Enter the ship and he enters the mind, taking the heart of Serenity and violating it. He is within me too, even as he is without. Slips in while they sleep, he rapes the ship. He will take it all and make them fear that theft and he will take me too. I am afraid.

I can only watch now. My gun and plan in hand, I can enjoy this. Malcolm Reynolds is a surprise – he should be tucked away in his room, masturbating to the thought of the Companion. His indecision, his hesitation, his fear; they're all the same and I exploit them all. Mal won't run from choices, he will fight them. But still he makes no choice. He is no match for me.

Locking them in their rooms as much as they are locked inside their minds and I am locked outside. He has taken control. And they will know fear by my touch and my voice.

Little Kaylee shall be the first. She fears even my passage toward her. I control her fear and revel in it. Heighten the tension; smile. I could stay here for a long time and enjoy myself. I like this ship. 'Serenity'. She's good looking. And I look at Little Kaylee. She knows what a nightmare like me is alluding to. She struggles with questions that she knows the answers to. I am her nightmares: strains the mind a bit, don't it? Knowing that her fears are now outside her head, but inside her ship. Thinking she were all alone with her fear, but now I'm here.

Maybe I came down the chimney, Kaylee? Bring presents to the good girls and boys. Or black coal to the bad. Maybe not, though. Maybe I bring presence instead?

Maybe I've always been here? Inside…

What do I want? Well, a lingering gaze sure will get that terror pumping through her veins. That's a beating heart, isn't it? Pumping fear through the body over and over again until it can no more. So fragile; so easily broken. Pull off any one of a thousand parts, she'll just die. Such a slender thread. Betrayal. The ones you love, hurt you the most. And I hurt the ones you love the most. Fitting, ain't it?

You ever been raped? She understands, she doesn't comprehend. The Captain's locked away in his quarters – they all are. Locked away in their minds and from choosing. Little Kaylee is different, is special. Her choice shall be stolen by fear. There's nobody can help you.

Say it.

Tears. Shame. Fear… Good.

Bind her in that fear. Tell what I will do and ask her what happens next. Pull each cord so tight that she can't even think for the fear… tighter and tighter. Then you know what I'll do now? Give you a present. Get rid of a problem you've got… and I won't touch you in any wrong fashion, nor hurt you at all. I'm going to take away your burden of choice. All this I'll give, if you kneel down and surrender your will…

Unless you make some kind of ruckus. You throw a monkey wrench into my dealings in any way… your body is forfeit. Your body is forfeit. Ain't nothing but a body to me. And I can find all manner of unseemly abuse for it. I know.

Do you understand? Cry, whimper, comply: it's all the same to him.

Do you understand? Turn around and put your hands behind your back.

Do you understand? She understands, she doesn't comprehend.

Now tell me, Kaylee… tell me that you've surrendered... Where does River sleep?