“I can’t see.”

Jayne nearly dropped a barbell on his foot. “Gorramit, I told you not to—”

“I can’t see,” River repeated. He knew, he just knew, that she hadn’t been in the cargo bay a second ago, but then how the hell did she get to standing behind him so fast? Was she learning tele—tepelort—how to move from place to place instantly now as well?

And what was this go-se about not being able to see?

Jayne swung his arm out, his fingers just missing her face. She flinched.

“See? Y’ain’t goin’ blind. Now go play dolls or somethin’, and leave me alone.”

“That wasn’t what I meant,” she said, sighing, and plunked herself down at the end of his bench. “There’s something coming and I can’t see what it is. It’s making me crazy.”

Jayne eyed her uneasily. “I thought Doc said—”

“I really am getting better, not just pretending!” She leaned forward and stared into his eyes with an uncomfortable intensity. “But the saner I get, the less I can see and hear!”

“Y’mean the reading-minds thing?”

River sighed again and rolled her eyes. “Duh.”

Jayne turned away and began stacking his weights neatly on the rack. It was evident he wasn’t going to get any peace for the rest of the day; he had learned to recognize the signs of the peculiar disease he called That Girl Followin’ Me About And Tryin’ To Teach Me Things About Squids (though the less said about that particular incident, the better).

“That was only once,” she protested. “Listen to me! This is actually important.”

“Something’s comin’ and you dunno what it is,” he said. “I heard ya. Whaddaya want me to do about it? There’s always somethin’ coming that we don’t know what it is.”

“This is different.”

“Reavers? Alliance? Them blue-hands? Somebody out for revenge?”

“Not bad, at least not bad bad like guns and screaming…” She stared at the ceiling, apparently fascinated by a steel girder. “All I can tell is that it’s coming. You’ll see it first; that’s why I’m telling you.”

“And yo