As the storm died down and the light began to fade, Mal stood and hobbled his way over to Wash, shivering quietly in the corner. “Wash? You okay?” Wash nodded silently.

Zeke joined Mal and knelt down next to Wash. Feeling Wash’s icy hands, he looked up. “No, he’s not. You two can’t spend the night like this.”

“Yes, we can,” said Mal with firm authority, his words directed more at Wash than Zeke. “Not cold enough ta’ kill us,” said Mal, wishing he had some way to help. The pilot’s jaw was set and he clearly had no intention of complaining, but it was going to be a very long night.

Zeke looked at Mal in dismay. “So that’s it? You’re not going to die, so it’s okay? You don’t seem wildly concerned about yourself, but I’m pretty unhappy at the idea of seeing Wash suffer, and I think you are too.”

“Suit yourself,” said Wash. “I’ve never had hypothermia, I’m looking forward to trying it.” He looked at Zeke, who was still regarding him with concern. “Thanks,” he said in a small voice, staring at the floor. Zeke gripped his shoulder gently and moved away.

“Ming’s Pizza and Prison Food, here with a delivery for – ah housing unit 28A?” interrupted Khiloh’s voice on the intercom box. “Come and get it before it starts breeding new and exotic life forms.”

#

They’d essentially been on starvation rations, with the day shift guard bringing them breakfast and the swing shift guard finding an excuse to deny them food every night, so the hot, filling food was ambrosia. Khiloh had also brought them a large jug of hot chocolate, which the dry prisoners forced on Mal and Wash until they protested that they were going to die of chocolate poisoning.

The rain stopped, and with their stomachs content for the first time in days, five grateful men went outside. “Sir?” asked Zeke hesitantly. “I may be really out of line here, but Wash hasn’t stopped shivering since he came back in, and Mal is chained up so he can’t even move around much to stay warm. I’m –worried about them.”

Mal shot Zeke a look