Zoe sat on the bridge and stared out at the stars. Not that she saw them. Her mind was elsewhere, back on Persephone, replaying the events of the pick-up. She was positive she’d never met Fisher before, even though Freya was insistent the man at least knew her name. She never forgot a face, and while her memory for the minutiae had never been as good as Mal’s, Fisher was a stranger to her.

She shook her head slightly. She’d always been slightly jealous of the way Mal was capable of remembering details of other folk’s lives that she hadn’t picked up on. Even in the war, when he had a shifting and changing platoon under him, then almost a brigade towards the end, he could still recall if someone was married, what their wife’s name was, how many kids they had, and would talk to any of the grunts that needed it, showing he cared. Maybe it was a trick, although she doubted it, but she wished she knew how he did it.

“Okay,” Hank said, coming up behind her and pulling the seat around to face him. “No moping.”

“Ain’t moping.”

“Then whatever it is you’re doing.”

“Taking the watch.”

“Honey, Serenity’s autopilot is more’n capable of making sure we don’t hit something.” He grinned. “It’s time to play.”

She raised one eyebrow. “Play?”

“Yeah.” He grabbed her hand. “Come on. You’re on my team.”

“Hank …”

---

Jayne watched her sometimes, when he thought she didn’t know. Wasn't very often, since she nearly always turned to look at him, a smile lighting her pale face as she fixed her dark eyes on him. But occasionally, when she was thinking about something else, or maybe a hundred something elses, he would catch her unawares, and wonder at how the ‘verse could reward a bad man like him with something as good as her.

He was under no illusions. No matter he and Matty had made it up, that he’d managed to spend some quality time with his Ma before she died, he knew what he was. What he was always going to be. But maybe he could be something else as well, and that he owed to a slip