Mal couldn’t sleep. Which wasn’t unusual – at least, it hadn’t been. There had been weeks at a time when he prowled the corridors of Serenity while everyone else slept, generally ending up on the bridge, staring out at the stars. It had been worst after Wash had died, when he expected to see the blond pilot at every turn, hear his voice ringing out from the cargo bay, or catch sight of his latest Hawaiian shirt just rounding the corner of the engine room. Then Freya came onboard, and after she moved in with him his sleep was better, as if he could relax properly in her arms.

Tonight, though, nothing he did would work. He tried counting sheep, then cows, then Jaynes jumping over a wooden fence. The only thing that happened was his muffled laughter at the final images had Freya rousing from her sleep to look at him out of one eye, then settling back down again. He didn’t want to disturb her any more than he had so he slid out of bed, pulling on his pants and shirt, and climbing the ladder in his bare feet.

As he strolled down to the darkened galley, he half-smiled. River did this all the time, he thought. Walked the corridors of the Firefly with no shoes on. “I feel part of the ship, captain, touching the metal. You should try it some time. Serenity would like it.” All he felt was the cold seeping up into his toes.

He put the light on in the dining area and stepped down onto the slightly warmer floor.

Only glancing at the coffee pot – that wouldn’t help him sleep – he instead reached into a high cupboard, taking out Jayne’s stash of bourbon. The big man wouldn’t notice a slug was missing, he told himself, smiling slightly as he poured the alcohol into a mug. ‘Sides, he figured it was the mercenary’s fault that he wasn’t sleepy. Making him laugh like that. Just because his mind had clothed Jayne in wolf’s clothing as he chased the sheep over the fence.

He sat down at the table, pulling Freya’s chair around so he could put his feet up on it, and took a sip. It burned the back of h