The black belongs to Josh...as do the rest of the colorful crayons and characters in the pack.

Thank you for sharing the world of Firefly with us, Mr. Whedon, sir.

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Mal sat in the cockpit looking out at the black. For the first time in months, he knew where he was going…and that was exactly…well, nowhere at the moment. But that was all right. He felt strangely content. They were back in the black, where they belonged. And for the first time in months, he didn’t feel lost.

They were only seven now. Mal had made some peace with himself over Wash and Book. He’d known death before but that hadn’t made it any easier. He knew the raw wounds would ache for some time. Best not to forget them though. Best to keep guard on them, less they fester.

He stole a glance at River. Her anguish gone, she watched over Serenity’s controls like a proud mother hen. Kaylee and Simon, last he’d seen, were frittering around in the kitchen, prob’ly finding something wonderful and amazing about every protein pack they stowed. Jayne was subdued, …for now. Mal would have to figure out if that were a good thing or not. Well, keep him fed and that’ll keep him from shootin’ off his mouth…or his guns. Zoe was tore up plenty but she’d come through. Inara…

“Are you ready to get off this heap and back to a civilized life?” “I don’t know”

Inara.

When she had left before, he hadn’t said, “Don’t go” or “Stay” or “Please”. He hadn’t said a gorram thing. Damned pride. Gorram coward.

And then she had gone and he and the rest of the crew had gone into a tailspin. The jobs had mostly gone south and what jobs they had, well, most of them were downright petty.

“Why did you leave?” “Why didn’t you ask me not to?”

Mal couldn’t make that mistake again. He wouldn’t. He checked the time, still an hour or so ‘til chow. With a nod to River, he set off towards the cargo bay…and the shuttle. He would knock first. Good. He would say, “Don’t go.” Maybe “Please don’t go”…no, too much like begging. H