The Black filled him. He could feel it sucking all the warmth out of him. Could feel it trying to pull him into its peaceful oblivion. And he would have let it, would have welcomed it, if it hadn't been for the warm steady pulse beneath his fingers.

He almost didn't notice when River silently slid into the room and stood across from him, her hand floating just above Inara's other hand. Her hair was in disarray, more so than usual, and Mal figured she had just woken up. He didn't say anything to her and she just stood there, not quite touching the unconscious woman between them.

Finally she lowered her hand to her side and, taking a step backwards, she pulled herself up onto the countertop. She hugged her knees to her chest.

"I screamed."

"So I was told." His voice was rough.

"I screamed because she didn't." He looked at her as she closed her eyes. "She wouldn't, wouldn't give him the satisfaction. And it just made him angrier."

"Who?"

She opened her eyes and almost sounded impatient with him. "Inara, she knew him. It was, personal." Her mouth turned down in disgust. "But she refused to give him what he wanted most."

Mal sighed and rubbed his eyes. "I meant, 'him' who?"

"Oh." River shook her head slightly. "She hasn't told me yet."

"Well, when she does, you let me know." The absurdity of the exchange wasn't lost on him, but he found that he was becoming more receptive of the absurd when it came to talks with River.

There was a pause as they both, again, focused on Inara.

And then, her eyes tracking invisible movement through the air above his head she said, "Birds. Birds flying?" River looked at him, confused about the image, not sure how to place it. "No. More poetical, Inara is more of a poem. Have to think of analogous phrases." She thought for a moment, still watching the birds only she could see. "Birds taking flight?” And then suddenly her eyes focused back on him. “Birds taking wing!"

He thought about it for a moment and a cold fi