Gray was lying on one of the now bare metal platforms in the far corner of the darkened building, and Mal approached with Khiloh’s supplies. “How you feelin?” he asked.

Gray didn’t move. “Rutting wonderful,” he said sarcastically, a very slight quiver in his voice belying his tough tone. Mal fetched a cup of water, handing it to Gray along with some of the pills Khiloh had given him. The man accepted it silently and then turned away, and Mal let him be, looking at the other members of the downcast group in the darkness. Nobody spoke, and Mal made his slow and frustrating way over to his bunk.

**

There was a sad, uncomfortable silence in the small building the next morning. Mal had slept easily enough, having spent so much time sleeping under combat conditions that the lack of minor comforts didn’t faze him. The others were awake most of the night, lying unhappily on the cold metal platforms trying to imagine themselves warm and comfortable. Every time one of them would start to drift off, the very awake Gray or the sleeping Mal would shift position and the sound of chains grating on the metal bunk would jerk them awake. When day finally dawned on the seemingly endless night, nobody spoke or moved about much.

Mal’s eyes blinked open sleepily, and he stretched with a yawn, startling at the abruptly loud sound of the shackles attached to his ankles. He rubbed a sore shoulder and glanced around sheepishly to see who he might have awakened. Seeing the others were awake, he laid his head back down and closed his eyes.

Finally Wash couldn’t take it any more and rolled to a sitting position. “Guys? We’re all friends, right? Can we act like it, please? I don’t know about the rest of you, but I’m about miserable with this suffering in silence nonsense. We’re having a rough spell, and I reckon we need each other right about now,” said Wash.

Mal opened his eyes and looked at the pilot. He looked cold and unhappy, but his voice was steady and he met Mal’s eyes with an affectionate smile. Ma