Wash met Mal halfway to the table and offered him a shoulder to lean on, supporting his steps and helping him ease into a chair. “What happened?”

“I’m a war criminal,” Mal answered bluntly. “I – they – I’ve been –“ he couldn’t force the words from his mouth. I’m going to be here for ten years. He couldn’t say it. He couldn't keep the hurt off his face either, and Wash rested a hand lightly on his shoulder.

Focus on now. Now is bearable. Mal reached up and put his hand on Wash's, appreciating the touch more than any words. This was sanity. For an eternity, nobody spoke.

Khiloh was standing close to Mal. Several times he moved as if to speak, and stopped before any words came out. Wash's gaze was focused on the floor of the cell. These two men were hurting like hell for him, thanks to that stricken look. You learned to be a better leader than this before you even left the ranch. Get it together.

"I got a – a thing on my ankle I'd be more'n a little willing to part with, if you were to be in a taking sort of mood," said Mal, keeping his voice calm and light..

Relieved to have some way to help, Khiloh knelt down a little too quickly and started fumbling with it. "They – used this on you." Khiloh couldn’t even look at him, but he took such care in unlocking and removing the band that Mal almost missed the shake in his hands.

Mal nodded. He took the band from Khiloh and set it on the table and spoke plainly to the two men. "Listen. I won in there. Might not look it, but – I fought those xiao wáng bä dàn men."

"Oh, it looks it, all right," said Wash, unable to resist the joke even though his face was an odd sort of pale.

Mal chuckled. There was a beep at the door, and he looked up. Mal recognized the doctor; he had a pleasant face with a few too many wrinkles, and a frosting of gray in light brown hair. Of all the people who'd treated him in the hospital, if he'd had to pick out a favorite it would have been this fellow. He had a quiet, almost shy