It had been a good meal, one of Kaylee’s best, with more than a little help from Simon. He was learning fast, and seemed to be enjoying himself.

“Least it means one less meal of Frey’s,” Jayne said. “Or worse, Mal’s.”

Having been duly chastised, the unrepentant mercenary grinned and got out his toothpick.

Mal, slightly nauseated tonight by the likelihood of the big man cleaning all the crevices in his teeth, got up from the table and headed for his bunk with the aim of relieving the growing need to … relieve himself. Climbing down the ladder, he pulled the toilet open and began to unbutton his pants.

Someone was watching.

He stopped, three buttons in, and turned slowly towards the open nursery door.

Ethan was gazing at him, his eyes wide, little hands twisting the tail of his pyjamas, his favourites, the ones with the dinosaurs all over them that had been a present from Zoe.

“Hey, there, big feller,” Mal said, smiling. “Why ain’t you in bed asleep?”

“Daddy pee?”

Mal glanced down, making sure he wasn’t likely to lose his pants, and then grinned. “Come on, back to bed,” he said, reaching down to pick up his son. “Before your Momma catches you.”

Ethan moved back, away from him into the nursery. “Daddy pee?”

“Well, I kinda figure that’s between me and the toilet bowl, don’t you?” Mal leaned on the door jamb.

“Ethan pee too.” With a determined look on his face, the little boy picked up a toy stool from the corner next to his bed and carried it, his tongue stuck out of the corner of his mouth, into the other room, putting it down next to the toilet. Then, very carefully, holding onto the drawer unit, he climbed up. He looked over his shoulder. “Daddy show.”

Mal came back to him, going down onto his heels so he could look into Ethan’s face. “You know you’ve got a … a potty, don’t you.”

Ethan shook his head. “Baby potty.”

“Well, yeah, I can’t exactly argue with that. And you’re more’n a year old now, I see that too. But it’s still okay to use it.”

“Daddy sho