River snapped awake. The only thing she was aware of was this time it was not due to a nightmare. She sat up and instantly regretted it. The room pitched violently, and her insides with it. The freshly painted flowers on her walls became a kaleidoscope. Her gorge rose. She stumbled from her bed and half-crawled to the latrine. She yanked it open just in time for her stomach to violently purge itself of its contents. There was not much. She had not eaten anything before going with the captain, but that did not stop her stomach from trying. She rested her head on the stainless steel edge, in part because it was cool and in part because the retching left her too weak to stand. Her brain hammered in her skull with a force she could not imagine it possessed, lacking any sort of appendages with which to beat upon its prison. She rose, wobbly, shutting the latrine and pulling out her little sink. She cupped her hands, eagerly lapping up the water to slake her parched throat and wash away the paste in her mouth. When she was done, the room was not tipping quite so violently. It still was not completely stable, though she was able to walk more or less directly back to her bed. She dropped onto it, not even bothering to get under the covers. She could not fathom it possible for her head to hurt more than just a few moments ago, but it did. She groaned and closed her eyes. Fortunately, she was unconscious again in a matter of seconds.

Simon was having breakfast when River blundered into the mess. She was a wreck. He knew he could have given her something last night to avoid this situation, but he was not at all pleased with what happened. He was still furious with Mal, but he also knew the captain was right. She was an adult now, with enough function and sense, if not actual experience, to know better. He thought letting her suffer a bit would be a better cure for overindulgence than any reaming he could give her. “Good morning,” he greeted with mock cheeriness. She threw him a look that at any