Disclaimer: all things Firefly/Serenity are the property of Whedon et al. I'm not making any money off this, just playing with the toys.

I recommend that you read "Something Unworldly" and "Men of God" as this is a continuation of them. Not beta'd.

The room was like a box, small and confining. Book understood that it was designed that way on purpose. It was too small to fill up with personal items so personal items were not purchased. Possession of things really meant slavery to them. It was difficult to throw or give away precious articles because of the attachment a person gave to them. This causes grief and makes the soul conflicted. For a preacher, soul conflict could not occur if he was to take the word of God beyond sacred walls.

Still, Book found giving up all his possessions more than difficult and had managed to hold onto a couple. Memories of his parents were vague and foggy, but the emotion of their love for him was strong so he kept the worn image of them during their days of courting. Even through his life, Book had managed to keep that scrap of paper, torn as it was and would look to it during his darkest nights.

He also kept the bullet. The lone bullet he had saved for years to one day kill the man that had eluded him for so long. Now that day would never come, but the bullet remained, a constant reminder of what Book had left behind in geography if not completely in mind.

The soft rapping of the door brought Book to the present, washing away images of blood and sounds of screams. “Brother Derrial?”

Book palmed the bullet into his jacket pocket and looked up as David entered. “Good morning, Brother.” He rose and shook the man’s hand.

“And to you,” David replied, his smile warmer than the sun. “Come. Let us have a final breakfast before you leave.”

Book rested his hand on David’s shoulder as they exited the room. “It won’t be the last, David. I will return.”

“Of course you will.” He met Book’s gaze and both men wondered if their little pretending game was actually a lie or an attempt to keep the truth at bay.

They strode down the light filled corridor to the cafeteria. Choosing their food and a table, they said a silent prayer of thanks then dug in heartily.

“This is quite good,” David proclaimed. “Certainly fills the belly after such a hard night of labour.”

“Indeed.” Book swallowed his own bit of food. The storm had been harsh and taken down three trees along with a piece of the Abbey’s library. All the brothers pitched in to remove the branches and repair the damage before too many books were drenched. It was hard work for men not used to quite that level of physical exertion. Book had silently relished the toil, feeling his muscles burn at the pull and tug that made him feel very much alive.

Little else was said by the two friends as they simply enjoyed each other’s company. But the meal had to end.

Standing at the entrance of the building were the brothers of the Abbey, smiling and giving well wishes to Book on his impending adventures. Book returned the gestures with thanks and kind words then grabbed his wheeled trunk and said a final good-bye.

David followed Book to the gate of the Abbey. He pulled on the strap holding some of the food stuffs to tighten them down further. With a look to the sky, he smiled once again. “A beautiful day, eh Derrial?” He faced his friend. “So different from the first time we met those eight years ago.”

“Yes,” Book mused. “Different.”

“No more tiny rooms,” David laughed. He swallowed and sighed deeply.

“You’ve been a good friend, David. You have helped me accept who I am, without question or judgement. I can only think that I would be in the hands of the Devil if it were not for you.” Books grasped the man’s shoulders. “Thank-you isn’t enough.”

David shook his head. “It was all there inside. You just needed to find the light to look for it.” He reached into his pocket and pulled a chain from it. “This was Brother Mielo’s. He gave it to me upon his passing with instructions to give to you when you decided to leave. He said you would understand.”

Book side-grinned as David passed over the gift. He studied the attached medallion of St. Christopher and a child on his shoulders. Hardly at the Abbey any time at all and Mielo had already figured Book out.

The men embraced. With a final look, Book opened the gate and stepped through. Within minutes, he was at the docks and found himself facing the bright face of a young woman with a colourful parasol boldly proclaiming that he would be coming with them. Even without her assertion, he knew that this was the ship for him. Her smile reminded him of David, of home.

A/N: St. Christopher is the patron saint of travellers.