Disclaimer: Not mine. They belong to Joss. Which is good, ‘cause I don’t think I’d want to be responsible for Jayne most of the time. Thanks, Joss.

Author's Note: This is a nod to a very brief moment in Objects In Space, brilliant because it was so very brief and unexplored. I thought I'd do some exploration of my own, branching off (pun intended) from Joss's vision of River's perceptions of objects, in space.

-------------------------------------

One by one, like leaves from a tree,

All my faiths have forsaken me;

But the stars above my head

Burn in white and delicate red,

And beneath my feet the earth

Brings the sturdy grass to birth.

I who was content to be

But a silken-singing tree,

But a rustle of delight

In the wistful heart of night--

I have lost the leaves that knew

Touch of rain and weight of dew.

Blinded by a leafy crown

I looked neither up nor down--

But the little leaves that die

Have left me room to see the sky;

Now for the first time I know

Stars above and earth below.

-- Sara Teasdale--

Leaves

by ShinyBug

No one else sees the leaves. Just me. I guess that’s for the best; they’d just be afraid, and they’re already afraid enough as it is. Afraid of Alliance, afraid of the holes that guns make, afraid of the black we sail through. Afraid of me. The leaves would only make it worse, if the others could see them.

But I see them, all the time. They are scattered across my plate at dinner, making it hard for me to eat, even when Simon nudges me disapprovingly with his elbow. They are under my hands when I push my plate away, when I brace my palms on the table as I stand up. There are some lodged in Book’s hair, which would make me laugh except it’s, well, *his* hair. They are drifting down from Kaylee’s honeysuckles on the pillars as I leave the dining room and the eating resumes behind me, in my wake. They crackle and pinch under my bare feet.

Some of the leaves are fragrant with memories I’ve lost or misplaced; one will smell of dancing and toe shoes