“Frey, do you want me to take over?” Hank asked, leaning in the doorway. “I mean, it is what your husband pays me for.”

“No, that’s fine. I just need to sit for a while.” She smiled at him. “You go play with Ben.”

“I’d rather play with Zoe,” the pilot said. “Only she’s not in the mood for games at the moment.”

“Are you surprised?”

“No, not really. But I keep trying.”

“Too much information, Hank,” Mal said, coming up the steps behind him.

“Ah. Right.” He straightened up. “Shall I go someplace else? I mean, if you’re wanting to use the bridge for fighting.”

“We’re not going to fight. Are we?”

Freya turned back to the stars. “Of course not.”

“Right.” Hank backed up around Mal, then span on his heel, heading back towards the galley at what he hoped was a nonchalant pace, but suspected was almost a full run.

“So.” Mal stepped onto the bridge and sat down in the co-pilot’s seat.

“So.”

“You’re mad at me.”

“No.”

“Yes, you are. I can tell.”

“Oh? Feeling psychic yourself, are you?” She couldn’t stop a trace of sharpness creeping into her voice.

“Ha! See, I knew you were mad at me.” He turned to face her. “It was a long time ago.”

“Right.”

“So long ago … I don’t even think of that time no more.”

“No reason why you should.” She hadn’t looked at him.

“It was right after the war. When you were … off doing whatever it was you were doing. And I didn’t ever ask what that was, I might add.” He saw her lips tighten. “Okay, no, that’s not what we’re talking about,” he said quickly. “She and I were … well, she came from Shadow, and –“

“I know. I heard.”

Mal glanced over his shoulder towards the galley. “She told them?”

“Yes.”

“How much?”

She shook her head, a small, unfunny laugh escaping. “I wouldn’t know. I've no idea how much there is to tell.”

“She wasn't who I thought she was, Frey,” he said quietly.

“Are any of us?”

“Gorramit, Frey, you look at me!” He went down onto his knees next to her, pulling the chair arou