The table seemed almost empty, reminding Mal sharply of the time after Miranda, when there was an empty space where Wash had sat, and Zoe spent most of her time locked in her bunk. At least this time Hank was alive down in the infirmary, and Zoe was with him, sharing the meal, and their numbers were made up by the children, swinging their feet under the old wood and listening to the conversation going on above their heads.

Jayne, as usual, finished first, and surprised most of them by pushing his chair back with a squeal. “I’d better take a tray down to Indigo,” he said gruffly, walking behind the counter and slopping more stew into a bowl. “Then you can flap your jaws about things without me gumming up the works.”

“He’ll sit and talk while Indigo eats,” River explained after he’d gone, the sound of his boots disappearing down the stairs. “Old times.”

“That’s nice o’him,” Kaylee said, wiping David Gabriel’s mouth where he was sucking down mush.

“Which?” Simon wanted to know. “The chance to tell tall tales, or giving us the time to talk about him?”

“Both, I guess.”

Mal stirred slightly. “Not sure there’s much to talk about.”

“You haven’t come to a decision yet, then?” Simon asked.

“Nope. I’m thinking maybe a good sleep might present a solution to me, but I ain’t holding my breath.”

“Jayne doesn’t know what to think,” River said quietly.

“No more’n the rest of us, xiao nu .”

“But he feels he should.” River plucked at a lock of hair that had fallen into her face, dividing and examining it, counting each strand as she pulled it loose. “He brought you here, and he thinks it’s his fault.”

“It isn’t,” Freya assured her.

“I know that. But I’m not the one burning inside.”

Mal put his water glass down with perhaps more force than was warranted, making its contents slop a little over the side. “He didn’t shoot Hank.”

“He believes Indigo could have.”

Mal looked at his surrogate daughter. “You ain’t been able to persuade him otherwise?”

She shook her head, m