I know. Jaynestown. But I just couldn't get the image of Jacob staring at his own statue out fo my head, and the crew desparately needed a bit of silliness. Of course, once they go to the theater, things go from silly to sublime. Folk-status is a hell of a thing.

Also included in this chapter are some explainations, partial though they may be, on the nature of telepaths. Specifically, how and why she started goin' all second sight on folk at the beginning of the first season. And... The return of Commander Harken.

Joss created Canton and the Jayne-statue. I simply stole them. And I stole the movie rights too.

Feedback is love. Love me.

Statue

Her eyes were closed, pressed shut as she tried to do something she'd been fighting against since that horrible night near Miranda; she tried to hear the whispers. Everything had gone so sideways, since the cave. Sure, she had her mind back, if she didn't immediately like the price it exacted. How was she going to explain it to him? Did she even dare?

She growled a Mandarin curse as she ran a hand down the long braid she'd adopted rather than have to cut her hair. It wasn't working. In those days, she'd have literally killed for peace and quiet. Now, all she wanted was to hear something. Anything.

"Son of a bitch!" Jacob shouted from the infirmery, and for an instant, Sylvia felt him flinch. She could feel him. It was part of the price, the price she would not have to pay alone. The pain. The frustration. Fear and anger. She opened her eyes, seeing Casher standing at the captain's side. The large man rubbed a hand across his face. His other hand held a suture needle which seemed entirely too small.

"I told you not to pick at it, sir," Casher said, a worried look plain upon him. She should have felt something, coming off a look like that, but all she felt was Jacob. "The sutures won't hold if you pick at it, and this is the third time you've torn it."

"Just ruttin' fix it," Jacob said harshly. Sylvia winced a bit at the words, and moreso at the abrasiv