Malcolm Reynolds was trudging his way up the metal stairway after securing their current cargo -- several crates of weapons – in one of the hidden areas of the hold. They were running the guns from a dealer on Isis to a small planet further out on the Rim. It was an easy job and cleaner than transporting cows. His biggest concern right now was how he was going to keep Jayne away from the stash.

As he was clanking up the stairs, a second set of footsteps began crossing the gantry way above him.

“Hello, Kaylee,” he said, glancing up.

“Oh,” she said, hesitating. “Hi Cap’n.”

One nice thing about Kaylee, Mal thought, was that he’d never have to worry about her going behind his back, or even winning at poker, for that matter. Her every intention was practically painted on her face. It was endearing, as well as being better than a truth serum. But right now, it caught his attention. Her tensely casual, head-down walk told him that something was up.

That and she was headed the wrong direction.

“Kaylee?” he asked as he joined her on the gantry level. She stopped quickly but kept her back to him. He could easily imagine her guilty, wide-eyed look before she turned around, failing an attempt to look nonchalant.

“What’s up, Cap’m?” she asked with strained brightness.

“I was figuring on asking you the same thing. Where you off to?” Mal crossed his arms and strode slowly toward her, his head cocked to the side.

“Oh, ahh,” Her eyes roamed the cargo hold of the ship before settling back on him. She was looking for a lie. “The bridge,” she said, like it made all the sense in the ‘verse.

Mal cocked an eyebrow. “Why?”

“Well, we broke out of atmo a little bit ago. Wash and Zoe are down in the kitchen.” Her face broke into a genuine smile. “I think Wash is making dinner tonight.”

“Well now, Wash is a mighty fine cook, so that don’t explain why you’re headed to the bridge. You wouldn’t be attempting to hijack my ship would you?”

Her eyes went w