"In sure and certain hope of the resurrection to eternal life through our Lord, we commend to Almighty God our brother, Captain Malcom Reynolds; and we commit his body to the ground: earth to earth; ashes to ashes, dust to dust. The Lord bless him and keep him, the Lord make his face to shine upon him and be gracious unto him, and give him peace. Amen."

Book closed his bible and tucked it close to his chest as for a moment he looked down, dry eyed and solemn, upon the closed casket. Then, through the fringe of his lashes, his gaze passed over every face in the too small mass gathered around, those tired and weary faces, each carrying their own memory and pain and something he knew he couldn't touch. His eyes lingered on the man in the blue body armor, staunchly refusing to take off his vac. helmet.

"If anyone wishes to speak a few words..."

He let the thought hang half spoken in the cool air of a fine Persephone evening.

It was a surprise when the first person to take up his invitation was not Inara, veiled in black like some mysterious Madonna, silent and slender a silhouette. Though there were no flowers here at the graveside, there was the Ambassador.

Nor was it stoic Zoe, who stood at attention as if with her rigidness she could stand tall for her closest friend as well as herself, defiant for him even now.

No, it was Wash who let his wife go and came forward only to rest beside Book.

"Malcolm Reynolds was... was a singular man. Without him, I don't know what my life would be like only that it would be empty. I wouldn't have married Zoe, I wouldn't have had this family of ours, and I would never have met Serenity. Whereever he's gone, I hope it's something like home."

Wash raised his hand to rub the back of his neck. Sheepishly, he returned to his wife. She glanced to the man in blue and her jaw tightened subtley.

Beside them, River rested her head on Simon's shoulder, and he kept one arm wrapped around her waist but Book didn't miss the fingers tangled with Kaylee's. She reached