No one slept well on Serenity that night, save possibly for her youngest inhabitant. Zoë and Wash may not have slept soundly, mostly because Wash kept waking up to check that Little M was still breathing and in the process was forced to nudge Zoë awake for her input, but they were probably the happiest sleepers.

Kaylee finally slept miserably curled up on Inara’s bed; Inara stretched patiently beside her, used to sharing her bed with another. Simon, miserable on every front, worried to death over River and convinced of his damnation for irredeemably ruining the only real relationship he’d ever had other than with his family, slept fitfully at best; waking up with that sick feeling in the pit of his stomach before forcing himself back into a light sleep.

The Preacher was more worried than he’d like to admit about River’s loss. He realised that, if she remained unfound, the moods of the crew were only likely to sour and their relationships fracture the more. His concern was that they not break down completely. He stayed up late to read and pray for her safe return.

Jayne was more affected than he’d like to admit by the bad feeling on the ship and took himself off early to his bunk, to clean Vera and look at porn. But the “readers’ prairie harpies” didn’t fill him with his usual enthusiasm, though their bodies were as pleasing as always. He couldn’t pull his mind from the image of a tearful Kaylee he'd seen running along the catwalk. He’d a good mind to go see that *hwoon dahn* doctor and teach him a thing or two about disrespectin’ women, but he reckoned the doc was on his last thread of sanity and distrusted what would happen were he to snap. Most like Mal would find some way to blame it all on Jayne. So he holed himself up in his bunk and vainly tired to keep his mind on the job in hand.

And the Captain? Mal had drunk enough to fell an ox and yet all he felt was restless and unsettled. He wandered the ship alone as he did most nights, checking the doors were locked and listening to the storm