Simon was working frantically in the infirmary, setting up a transfusion.

“’Nara?” Kaylee was outside, watching Mal standing like a rock, unable to move, just a few feet away from his wife as she lay so still on the medbed.

“I don’t know, mei-mei ,” the Companion said, putting her arm around the young mechanic, needing to feel another’s warmth and comfort as much as giving it herself. “I don’t know.”

Zoe had Ethan on her lap, sitting in one of the easy chairs Hank had dragged towards the door. “She’ll be fine,” she said. “I'm sure she will. Simon’s a good doctor.”

Jayne just sat on the stair, hugging his knees, ignoring the blood that had soaked into his pants. Her blood.

“Simon?” Mal asked finally.

“She’s haemorrhaging,” the doctor admitted, his professionalism taken over. “If I can’t stop it …”

“If you can’t …” Mal echoed. He stepped towards his wife, then slowed.

Everything slowed, as if they were moving through transparent treacle. Then it all stopped. Simon was frozen in the act of inserting the transfusion needle, Mal had his hand reaching towards the medbed, and Freya …

Freya was standing in the infirmary doorway, watching. “What is this?” she asked.

“Time to choose.”

She looked to her left, to a young girl standing next to her. She reminded the older woman of River, with brown hair that curled softly, and wide blue eyes, but just as slight and waif-like as the original. She looked familiar. “Choose what?”

“Life or death.” The girl waved her hand, and the infirmary shimmered, seemed to split into two. Two Mals, two Simons, two Freyas on two medbeds.

“Then I choose life,” Freya said immediately.

“Are you sure?” The girl pointed to the image on the right. Simon started to move again, inserting the needle, opening the bag to begin draining into Freya’s arm. “Are you sure?”

“Doc?” Mal asked.

“I don’t know. If I can’t stop …” He shook his head. “She’s losing too much blood.” He lifted Freya’s legs, opening them so he could …