He shifted the bag from one shoulder to the other, wishing he hadn't decided to cram the capture of Inara into the pocket on the side. The slim piece of plastic weighed heavier on his shoulders than the five firearms he was lugging around with it.

In the distance, he could faintly see the glow of light from the Mudder's town, and veered away from it. Didn't seem to matter how far he walked though, the smell of Canton followed him. He remembered telling Simon, way back before he'd learned that the best family was the one you chose, that this moon was a good drop point for precisely that reason.

Never imagined he'd be coming back at Monty's request. He'd been hearing the whispers of rebellion for months, felt the excitement of strikes against the Alliance second and third and fourth hand. The stirrings of belief bubbling in his stomach until he couldn't ignore it anymore.

Weren't no better place for a clandestine meeting to organize the rebellion than the stinkpot of the 'Verse.

He quickened his step.

Had to get to the meet spot. Sooner the better. Less temptation to look back and see Serenity silhouetted behind him. Quiet and still. Empty of his hopes and dreams, but full of the people who carried them.

Every step he took, he willed the ship to take off. Wants Wash to take Zoë and Jayne and Kaylee and Simon and River and Book and Inara, maybe Inara most of all, off this world and far, far away. They don't understand, but he didn't really expect them too.

Except for Zoë. She should have understood. She should be by his side, solid and silent and disapproving, but with him none-the-less.

At some point, when he wasn't looking, the Zoë he knew slipped away, into Wash's arms. And Mal loved her just a little more for finding something else to live for. She didn't understand him leaving. For her, their life aboard Serenity was more important than all else. As long as they kept flying, the rest of the 'Verse could self-implode so far as she was concerned.

She expected him to feel the same.