Zoe had never seen the captain so dark before.

And that was saying alot.

They had been through thick and thin, and she had seen all of his facets. The drunkenly jolly sargeant enjoying a short leave, the closed off war hero with blood dripping off his uniform, the military man smart assing to superiors, the optimistic new captain of a rickety ship that didn't even work. Happy, sad, angry, defiant, hesitant, solemn, all of that and more Zoe had witnessed.

Yet she had never seen him kill helpless men.

Men who he had taken pity on before, men that hadn't killed another person, men that weren't a threat. This wasn't kicking Crow into the engine, this was two men made backwards from the ravages of their war; tied like stock and thrown into water to die a slow, agonizing death. It didn't sit right with her.

As he threw the harness back into the mule, she, River, and one very water-paranoid feline waited. Past experience told Zoe to step back and let him cool off his heels, however with all of the hardship they had been enduring and the loss of a horse, she didn't know if he would ever cool off. Malcom had seemed to have hit that peak of cold anger that could send him into a downward spiral and chase them all off. He had been damn well near it right before Miranda, she knew the times he had threatened to either shoot or hang Simon. However with that mess, he had recovered. For moments like that, aggressively exposing the Alliance, laying his life on the line, brought the best out in him. It rebuilt him, gave him faith, hope, brought his feet back down and drew him back to his makeshift family. However faith and hope seemed to be in low supply, and she doubted another 'bring-out-the-best' moment or any other moment would come along to restore the rightful balance.

Second miracles weren't too common.

River, seated in back, fixated on the back of Zoe's mud freckled hair, until she turned as Mal started driving with a healthy lurch. The little reader nodded her head smartly, rather confident. "Doctor