It was dark by the time the last of the bodies had been interred, and the only light was from the still smouldering houses. Those adults who were still alive came and claimed their children from the church, tears flowing when they found loved ones, and even more when they realised there were others who would never be seen again. Those that could took the children with no kin left, until Freya was sitting on her own in the dark building.

That was where Mal found her.

“Frey.”

She looked up, seeing his silhouette, unable to make out any features. “They were so small,” she whispered. “So helpless.”

He crossed the darkness and went down onto his heels next to her. “I don’t know what to say to you to make it better,” he admitted, his heart paining him at the hurting in her voice. “I wish I could. I wish I could tell you this’ll never happen again, that no-one else’ll feel this loss, but I can’t.”

She nodded, needing to see his face but only picking up the fact that he was there. She leaned towards him, smelling his scent, trying to ignore the added layers of blood and smoke. “I want to go home,” she said, her voice so quiet it was little more than a sigh. “Is that terrible of me? Shouldn’t I want to stay here and help?”

“You did help,” he said firmly, not recognising this woman but knowing it was his Freya. “ Ai ren , you did.”

“Not like you. Not with the collecting and the burying …”

He took hold of her arms, almost wanting to shake some sense into her. “You helped. There wasn't anything more you could have done.” He pulled her into his arms, feeling her trembling against him.

“Mal …” She cried silently. “All those children …”

---

Inara couldn’t. She stood outside her shuttle, afraid. Afraid of her own home.

“There ain't nothing in there,” Jayne said, walking up behind her. “Nothing for you to fear coming across.”

“Did they …” She swallowed.

“They ripped it up,” he acknowledged. “But no-one died in there, not that I could see.”

Inara nodded. “Thank