Disclaimer: all things Firefly/Serenity are the property of Whedon et al. I'm not making any money off this, just playing with the toys.

A/N: I strongly recommend reading the previous two stories to understand where this is coming from.

When I reached for the fourth incense stick, I knew my meditation to be a fruitless venture. Perhaps you would have laughed or asked me to do something else, most probably to brush your hair.

I could see you, if I shut my eyes, relaxing into those strokes. We would talk of nothing significant, not until Doctor Tam arrived. And then there was little else to speak of.

I swung my hand across the small shelf and relished the sound of the candles clattering to the floor. I stared at the dishevelled mess and for the first time since coming aboard, laughed at the chaos.

And then I cursed myself for letting the laughter out. I grasped the nearest statue and threw it awkwardly at the far wall, knocking down the hanging. The echo of it crashing filled the shuttle; the ensuing silence deafened me more. I craved noise, disorder, anything but serenity. Glancing at the effects filling my shuttle, I could not help but be disgusted by it all.

Everything had been ordered, carefully placed, carefully chosen to exude a mood and a feel. Men felt at ease in this space, let their guards down. I scoffed. My guard was at its highest in this little craft. It had to be.

I moved to grab another piece of anything to throw, when I felt the ship turn. It was enough to knock me off balance, landing on the floor. The tea cup I held was now broken and had cut into my skin. Sliding myself back to lean against the settee, I stared at the blood now beginning to appear and trickle out of the small break in my flesh. It was such a different colour of red.

I had immersed myself in red in this shuttle. It hung from the walls in shimmering tapestries, coloured the sticks of candles and covered the wooden boxes. It was all suddenly harsh and constricting.

I drowned i