Mal could see it in his mind’s eye, even as the sound of gunfire exploded again. No matter that he’d left her on the ship, she’d be lying there on the ground, her shirt reddened by blood pumping from the wound in her chest, and as he went down on his knees next to her, the light in her eyes would go out, and he’d be alone. He could feel his heart constricting as he knew he’d hear her breathing stop, his life stopping with it. He could almost taste the metal on his tongue. He ran faster.

Freya grabbed River, pushing her to one side, even as she felt something burn across her ribs. She grunted with the sudden pain, her body trying to roll up around it, to protect itself from further harm. Pulling her gun free, she swung around.

Jayne tugged his weapon free from its holster, his eyes burning with rage and righteous anger. His finger tightened as he aimed, his grip sure.

River wanted to scream her fear to the heavens, but nothing could get past the constriction in her throat as she slid down the wall, brick chips showering her, just as other guns opened up and the confined space filled with sound and the acrid smell of burned powder and blood.

“What the hell …?” Mal stood at the head of the alley, his pistol drawn, his voice echoing in the sudden silence, staring at the bodies among the detritus.

“River? River, it’s okay.”

She huddled on the ground, her arms clutched around her knees, words tumbling from her lips. “Too late. Too late. Didn’t work. Too late.”

“River.”

She shook her head. “No late.”

“No, it ain’t. I’m okay.”

She lifted her eyes slowly, tears blurring her vision but managing to see the apparition floating in front of her. “Jayne?” She reached out, almost afraid to touch him in case he turned to smoke and disappeared.

“That’s me, darlin’. I’m right here.” He slid his gun back into its holster then reached out and gathered her into his arms, holding her close.

“Jayne?” She trembled against him. “I thought … I thought I was too … too late,” she stamm