Disclaimer: Firefly and these characters are the rightful property of Joss Whedon. I wish they would rise again.

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IF THE COAT FITS

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It was Jayne that found her. Knew I hired him for somethin'. His trackin' skills are like no-one else's. Not sure now that I don't wish he weren't so gorram good.

Hardly recognized her at first. All bloodied and beaten. Felt sick to my stomach. What sort of qingwa cao di liumang could do that to a woman?

We carried her back to the ship, me an' Jayne. She di'n't hardly weigh anythin' at all. Always thought she'd be heavier. That the force of her personality would've given her more heft. But she was so light. Holdin' her – at last – was like holdin' a dream.

Simon cleaned her up some so that she was at least recognizable. I wanted to kiss her, but her lips were so badly bruised and swollen, I feared hurtin' her. Because I still wa'n't ready to accept she was gone.

We burnt her body on a pyre there on Three Hills. Gathered up what little there was of dried twigs and branches lyin' around and burnt her, wrapped in my old brown coat. That was River's doin'. She was screamin' and hollerin' “That's hers! Give it back!” fit to wake the dead. 'Cept it didn't. Anyhow, it felt right somehow. Givin' her the warmth in death that I should have given her in life.

When the embers cooled, I scooped them with my hands into a battered old tin I'd brought from the mess. Now it sits in her shuttle, which is still jus' the same as the day she left it. I know she was always threatenin' to leave but in my heart I hold fast to the memory of her sippin' Kaylee's moonshine an' sayin' “Why would I ever want to leave Serenity?”

Sometime I go there to sit. Only now, in my head, I always ask permission first. An' I pretend to myself that she welcomes me with a kiss. Just a peck on the cheek. 'Cos I don't deserve no more from her.

The shuttle still smells of her. Sometimes I pick up her pillows and breathe her in. But not often. Because the pain it gives me i