Betsey was clean. So was Maeve. And little Ida was just gleaming at him. Now all he had to do was give Vera the same, tender, loving care as his other guns and he’d be done.

Picking up the Callahan, Jayne started to break her down, his hands doing what they always did, while his brain began to wander.

This, too, was normal.

Sometimes he thought about his brother Matty and his wife Jolene, wondered how they were getting on with their newest addition to the family. They’d be dropping by in a few weeks, so at least that would be good. That generally brought up memories of his Ma, how she’d approved of River, then of the day they laid her to rest next to his Pa. Usually he’d rub a bit harder at whatever bit he was cleaning, maybe blinking once or twice to get the dust out of his eyes.

Other times his mind went to his own son, his Caleb, growing every day, nurtured by River. There were still episodes, of course, but she generally knew when they were coming, and allowed Simon to give her something to make them easier to take. It would be good to have another kid, he always mused, a playmate for his son, but if it didn’t happen he wasn’t going to grieve over it. There were enough younglings on Serenity as it was to get into trouble if they wanted. With young Bethie leading the way, of course.

Mostly, though, he thought about how. How he’d managed to wind up on a ship like this old Firefly, when he’d been offered cushier berths. Well, no, maybe not at the time he had Mal and Zoe at the end of his gun, but … Anyway, something had always gone wrong. Either he didn’t like the rest of the crew, or they didn’t like him, or more often both of the above, but he’d never stayed in one place for long. Least, not after Charity.

Charity. Damn fine woman. If she hadn’t been killed there was a tiny part of him considered they’d probably still be together, taking on the ‘verse, squeezing its balls and making it squeak. And there’d always be a part of him, maybe a bit bigger, that would always love