River pushed him in the shoulder. “Jayne.”

Immediately he was awake, reaching for the small handgun he kept above the bed. “Problems?”

“No. Freya.”

He lay back on the bed, staring into the darkness. “Riv, I was asleep,” he complained mildly.

“And mother is awake, sitting in the kitchen.”

“She ain't your mother.” It was automatic, and she ignored his words.

“She needs to talk.”

“Fine. I’ll wait here ‘til you get back.”

“Needs to talk to someone like her.”

He lifted himself onto his elbow. “Are you meaning me?”

“We are all alike, on a molecular level. But higher ...” She rested her chin on his chest. “Somehow you are close. Friends. And I think she needs a friend.”

“She’s got Mal.”

“Someone who understands the darkness.”

“She’s got –”

“Jayne.”

“Fine.” He swung his legs off the bed. “Shiny. I’ll just go ...”

“Good.” River settled back down, her eyes closing as she pulled the covers back up to her neck.

Jayne pulled on a pair of pants and a t-shirt. “You ain’t gonna wait up for me?” he asked, surprised.

“I’ll be listening,” she said, then yawned widely.

“Right.” Jayne shook his head as he walked quietly out of the shuttle.

----

Mal rolled over in bed, reaching out to Freya to pull her close, but her side of the bed was empty. Forcing his eyes open he scanned the small room, noting the fact that her clothes were missing from the heap she’d left them in, and the large red shawl he’d bought for her had gone from its place on the chair, and he sighed. It had been a while since he’d woken alone, several months in fact, but it wasn’t all that unusual. Freya sometimes found it hard to sleep, waking from dreams that had made her sweat hard, her breath coming in great gulps. So rather than toss and turn, maybe disturbing Mal, she’d go and sit in the kitchen, playing solitaire until she felt ready to try again.

He glanced at the small chronometer on the table by the bulkhead – it was so late a man might call it really early. Smiling slightl