Simon sat on a reading ledge built into his bunk. A medical book wobbled on his knees while a nearby

SpeakPad scribed his dictated notes. A hover lamp floated and scurried above him, nimbling following

his slight movements, spreading a halo of blue light luminous enough to accommodate his late night research.

He barely acknowledged the sliding woosh of the door.

“Hmmm,” Simon mumbled. “You should be asleep.”

He never looked up any more when River entered his room. She often came in late, while he was reading, and it was useless to chide her.

On the nights when she was restless, she would glide around the small interior of his room, oblivious to his presence. Her hands sought out the room’s angles and surfaces in a focused ritual that seemed to calm her mind, and then, wordlessly, she would disappear to her room.

Other times, he knew she woke from nightmares, because on those nights she entered quickly and

dropped into a ball beside his bed, shaking. On those nights he stroked her hair and spoke to her in quiet tones until the terror left.

But tonight, she was different. He could tell that she was playful and fighting sleep, the way she did as a small child, when she would beg him to let her stay up late in his room with her toys and books.

Tonight, she crawled onto his bunk, smoothed down the covers, and lay on her back, her hands behind her head in defiant merriment -- not unlike a pose Jayne often took.

“Saw a Capture. In my mind.” She grinned as she said it. “From the future.”

“Let me guess.” Simon said dryly. “The Captain finally acknowledges my medical brilliance and starts paying me a salary.” He flipped a page in his book.

“No.” River said, dropping into a momentary state of utter gravity. “That never happens.”

And just as quickly, she was playful again. She rolled over to look directly up at Simon.

“It was romance. Love. And Sex!” she announced loudly, like a present.

Simon closed his book and grinned down at her. “Tell me,” he said, laughing.