(Notes and disclaimers with Part One)

******

Shepherd Book had parted ways with the others, and gone off on his own, after offering to do some of the holiday food shopping.

Which he definitely intended to do. However, along the way to the marketplace, he made a special stop.

The chapel was small, but well kept, standing out in its brick and mortar solidity amongst the surrounding clapboard and prefab buildings. A sign by the front door indicated it was run by an order not his own, although closely affiliated. It would do.

He entered the foyer, and smiled at the sight of a small manger scene set up in one corner. There didn't seem to be anyone about. He passed through into the sanctuary, where the fading light of the afternoon filtered in softly through frosted windows. The particular, unique hush of any house of worship quickly enveloped him, bringing a sense of peace, as it always did.

With a sigh, Book slipped into a rear pew and knelt, head bowed over his folded hands. Prayer was a refuge, his own place of retreat, especially aboard Serenity. Six years in the Abbey had been an escape into a place of healing, learning, and restoration. Perhaps he'd chosen to walk in the world again too soon, before he'd been completely healed and cleansed of his past sins.

Now, he lived in a world that seemed a step halfway back into that past, where the Shepherd waged war with the Hunter he had been. But he'd made that choice because it seemed he had no other. On Serenity he'd found hearts and souls in as much need of healing as he'd once been--and perhaps still was. He had learned that wrong could often be done for right, and that judgment and justice had new definitions out in the black.

He remembered the touch of Inara's hand, cool and gentle, on his head. Remembered her words, spoken as one voluntary exile to another. Remembered how quickly the battered old ship had come to feel like home, and her paradoxical crew like family. He had fought for them, and with them, and knew that he