I wrote this an eon ago for a Fan zine that never got off the ground, hence the shortness. Please don't ask for prequels or sequels – ‘cause the muse for this story fluttered away a long time ago. Thanks!

FOUND*

Simon was fading, all but dead, and River knew she couldn’t resurrect him. The body was still breathing, the heart was still beating, but his mind, the part of him that made him Simon, and not somebody else, was being taken; ripped out of him by blue hands that didn’t mind the fact their violence had left a mess. Like sister like brother.

“I believe,” the shorter of the two blue-handed men said. “That he’s told us everything he knows.”

The taller blue-handed man nodded and flipped the small, leather bound notebook closed. River watched, through tear soaked eyes, as the taller blue-handed man slid the notebook into his suit’s breast pocket. They used a notebook because transmitting what Simon had told them would be dangerous. Hackers can cut through even the most secure lines and steal the secrets Simon knew. Important secrets like how he had dreams about Kaylee and how he wished Mal would teach him how to fire a gun and how, sometimes, late at night, he said a prayer even though he didn’t really believe in God. There were other secrets too; less important ones about how much he’d paid the men who’d stolen River and the address of the warehouse on Persephone where he’d retrieved her. All the secrets were safe inside that notebook. Nobody would know them who wasn’t supposed to.

The shorter blue-handed man walked up to the small table beside Simon’s chair that held all the needles. There had been lots of needles, River thought. Simon’s forearms were already covered with grayish purple bruises. But then, the blue-hands had always liked needles. They’d used needles to rip River apart, back at the academy, to kill her just like they were killing Simon right now. He’d saved her, of course, because he was brave and good. River wanted to be brave and good, too. She wished with all of