Jethro stopped outside her door, and felt ashamed. No matter that he’d spoken to Hank, agreed with him even that there was no need to run from River, in that short walk from the galley to the sleeping area his resolve had melted away like dew on a hot day. And now he was sweating.

He liked River - more than liked. But the things she’d told him, the way it affected her, chilled him to the bone.

“When I was fourteen,” she began, “I went to a school. It was supposed to be so much fun, so many things to learn, to expand our horizons and broaden our minds …” She’d choked slightly and he’d rubbed her back. “Our minds …” She’d looked up at him, the caring and understanding face he’d put on, his Shepherd’s face, and she pulled back from him, a look of fear in her eyes. But still she’d gone on, bitterness and pain now in her voice. “They wanted her for her minds. Took her into dark places. Shone bright lights into her soul and tore it out.”

“River, I don’t understand.”

“Cut into her brain. Over and over. Until there was nothing left. Until they filled her up with all the agony and anger they carried, the dreams that weren’t hers, the voices and the pictures and the horror ..” She stopped, staring at him, through him, then rolled away, turning her back.

He reached out to her, barely touching her. “River …”

“Simon found me. Found me broken but rescued me, started putting me back together again.” Her shoulders were shaking with the effort of telling him. “Put her back in her box and locked it with the Miranda key. Only sometimes she gets out.” River pulled her knees up to her chest. “I killed them. The Reavers. I took their vorpal blades and went snicker-snack.” Her voice caught, halfway between a laugh and a sob. “And when I was done there was only bodies.”

“You … killed?”

She turned back to gaze at him, her eyes pleading. “They would have killed us, Jethro. Raped us. Eaten our flesh. I had to save my family.”

“I …” He tried to find the words but failed.

The hope