Their own worst enemies. That’s what the crew all thought, when they saw the dancing around, the looks, the silences, when the air was filled with the sniping and the anger and the …

“Love,” Jayne said quietly.

“Yeah,” Kaylee agreed, for once her normal sunniness covered in cloud.

If Simon was surprised that Jayne would recognise such a foreign emotion to him, he didn’t show it. “Yes.”

Still, the big man might have been picking up being psychic from River. “And I do know what that is, doc. Love. I love my Ma, my brother … just ‘cause I kill folks for a living don’t mean I ain’t never felt it.”

“I …”

“Don’t,” Kaylee said, getting up to fetch another cup of coffee. “That’s not why we’re here.”

“Then I think you’d better explain.”

There was a huge sigh from the direction of the kitchen area, and Kaylee came back to the table. “We gotta do something.”

“Like what?” Jayne asked.

“Something. Get ‘em together. Make ‘em talk. It’s been near two months since … since …” She still couldn’t say it, say the word ‘ Miranda ’, let alone ‘ since Wash died ’. “I know she ain’t gone back to the Training House, but they’re no further along.”

“Have you considered that perhaps they’re not meant to be together?” Simon spoke diffidently, having found that now Kaylee was in his bed she was more prone to tell him exactly what she felt, and occasionally her tongue was sharper than his scalpels.

This time, though, she surprised him. “I thought about it, yeah.” Sliding into the seat next to him, she shook her head. “And maybe they ain’t. But until they get over this hump, they ain’t never gonna find out.” She glanced towards the empty chair, the one nobody sat in, the one that was Wash’s. “They gotta try.”

“You got a plan?” Jayne asked, leaning forwards, his elbows on the table.

“Short of locking ‘em in the shuttle, not much,” Kaylee admitted. “And then I ain’t sure it wouldn’t be just one of ‘em coming out.”

“I don’t think the captain would like that,” Simon said.