There are unguarded moments, few and far between, when no one notices that they’re being observed. These are sacred moments, when souls are revealed. They can happen anywhere: the cargo bay during load in, the dinner table, or an almost deserted passageway. No matter when or where these moments occur, they are moments of terrible, intimate honesty. They demand respect and reverence from the interloper who is their witness. To treat these moments in any less regard is to carelessly disregard a precious gift.

I have been privileged to bear witness to several of these gifts:

No one, not even Jayne, is completely selfish. He always manages to “drop” a few coins on the ground when he bends down to adjust a bootstrap that needs no adjusting. The poor children of the outer planets who hang around the space station swoop in like hawks to claim their prize. Jayne doesn’t look back. The children don’t look at him. Survivors comprehend each other; there is no need for looks or thanks. It’s all understood.

Part showman, part comedian, part ten-year-old boy, Wash keeps us all laughing. There is his other side, revealed to only those who watch as he and Zoe walk down the long corridor to their quarters. He whispers in her ear as his hand travels a path from her shoulder, down to the small of her back, and to its final destination at her waist. His words remain unknown, but their magic is begun. Zoe’s shoulders relax, she leans into him and tosses her head with an almost imperceptible laugh. Whether he knows it or not, the ace pilot’s best maneuver isn’t the barrel roll, or the heart-stopping dive. He has done what no other could. He has made the warrior feel like a woman.

Fear. We all live with some kind of fear every day, but nothing like River’s fears. They are part of her every minute. There is no respite. In her more lucid moments they bubble to the top with questions for Simon. They are all variations of, “When will it stop?” Simon has no answers. None of us do. Then, there are worse moments when she is i