Disclaimer: These characters and places are owned by Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy... Sadly, neither of those are me.

***

The Bible hit the table with a soft thunk. Shepherd Derrial Book had dropped it there because his eyes had become too unfocused to read the words.

Inara glanced up from her tea, "What's wrong, Shepherd?" she asked, concerned.

"Oh, nothing. Just tired is all." he replied.

She nodded, "It has been trying of late, what with the constant jobs and all. It seems only fitting that the need for rest would catch up with you at a time when you can."

He smiled at her, "It does, doesn't it." he said. "Well, that's all the initiative I need, I'll be off resting if anyone needs me." he gathered up the Bible and walked back to his room.

Instead of resting, however, he opened the bottom drawer of his dresser, which was full of socks. He fumbled a moment in the bottom of the drawer, causing the wooden plank that held the socks to flip up. All the socks merely slid to the back of the drawer, and slid back to their original positions when he retrieved the box and let the plank quietly drop back to its rightful place.

Sitting down on the bed, the box carefully cradled in his lap, he took a deep breath. Gently, he lifted the lid of the wooden box, the gold inlay shimmering in the light. There were three things in the box: a picture, a pin, and his something.

Staring at the picture, he felt a certain sadness wash over him. He hadn't felt a sadness like this in years. He had never been overly sentimental about before, there had never been much to be sentimental about. But now, he wished that someone would've told him what he would become before he had gotten himself into that. Wished he had had all the facts and had said no.

But that was in the past, and he was someone else now. Though he sometimes had less than shepherdly thoughts.

His fingers delicately traced the intricate yet so simple design of the pin. There was a time when he had worn it with pride. No more and never again.