based on the world of Firefly by Joss Whedon

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Chapter Six

Cat touched the shotgun fondly, counting again the etches in the handle. More than she cared to admit. Each year apart added another, almost masking her claw marks on the barrel.

She smiled gently, hearing his voice in her head like it was yesterday.

'It's the perfect gun, Babe. Not too heavy, but enough to make a decent club should the need arise.'

'Saying I can't handle myself in a fight? That we'd run out of ammo 'fore we run out of enemies?' Her hands went to her hips as she shook her head. 'Need to learn to trust me, Old Man.'

Something passed over his hard face, eyes catching hers for a moment before he moved to pay the burly gent at the counter, cradling the gun in his left arm. He whispered words for only her to hear and they caught in her throat again as the memory flowed through her. 'Only one I do.'

"Mal wanted to know if you want something to eat."

She heard the voice, but at first didn't respond until a touch to her shoulder almost made things awkward.

Hank, the pilot, took a quick step back and watched her glowing green eyes fade.

"What?" she asked, bringing herself back from the past.

"Uh, we ... we're about to sit down to a meal. All of us. Mal wanted ... he thought you'd like to join us." Hank smiled falteringly. "It ain't the Osiris Ritz, but Simon cooked, so it'll be edible."

"I'm fine," she replied, moving the shotgun so its butt rested on the ground. "Tell him thanks for the invite though." She knew the thought of Mal asking her to join them was a lie or a coercion brought on by Freya or Kaylee. One way or the other, she wasn't going.

"Now if I'd been on the rota, we'd prob'ly be having protein bars and cold coffee," Hank went on, his mouth running through sheer nervousness. "Been known to burn water in the past."

"I'm not hungry."

"Okay. Well, I asked." He glanced at the weapon, wanting to find something to talk about, to make her feel