Mal's fingers curled over the arms of the new pilot's chair.

No one had really quite discussed it, since. Mal figured Zoe was figuring that seeing as they hadn't talked much about those who fell in the valley, that he wouldn't treat this any different. This was a war, if just with the lines drawn in a milky shade of gray, while everyone bled the same shade of red.

His fingers pressed hard into his eyelids as if he had to pin them shut. Ain't nothing to say when things happen so fast like that.

He'd joke to himself, to make sitting there feel right. How it was a damned shame about the old chair, how it fell the way it did. It'd been worn and comfy, but speared and stained in ways that just could not be mended. No fancy doctoring or makeshift tinkering would bring it back.

And then it wasn't about the chair, which it never was to begin with.

Mal hadn't gotten this far without knowing how to fly a ship, but that weren't the point. --

"You think too loud."

River's voice caused him to jerk his hand from his eyes and he spun himself 'round to face her. They'd have to tie a bell to her ankle or something. "You should be in bed, lil' one."

She was wearing boots too black and a dress too big and her hands were in fists at her hips and she sure didn't look happy with him, not the one bit happy.

"You can butter it yellow, but everybody knows."

He was in no mood for decoding, not that he ever was. But she was a perturbed little spit and it was nice and quiet now and he'd like to keep it that way. She stalked towards him and pinched his nose shut. Mal gave her a look, and gently took her slender wrist in both his hands. "How about you just turn back where you came before the doctor causes a panic."

She pouted and spun her way into the co-pilot's chair. "He thinks loud, too." She paused like she had come to a conclusion, which she promptly stated: "Big hearts think loud."

Mal pawed his hands over his chest. "This shirt make my heart look fat?"

River looked at him sidelong, with her hands reaching forward. It wasn't that she was pressing buttons on the console so much as studying them with her fingers while her eyes stayed on the black. "Not any more than your other shirts."

There was a comfortable silence for a moment. Mal folded his hands on his stomach and leaned back in his chair, which complained with a creak.

"Don't fix what ain't broke, like new dogs with old tricks." She was grinning at him, and as usual, he couldn't fathom why.

"You got some old tricks up your sleeve, pup?"

"No albatross?" She pouted. He'd have to be more particular when dispensing pet names, apparently.

"Birds don't be making eyes like you do," Mal smirked. He watched her draw into her chair, bringing her knees to her chest and hugging them steady. "Is there something you wanted?"

"Think softer," she barely whispered.

His mouth opened a second before he hushly returned, "… I'll do my best."

"It's all you know how to do, old dog."

"What happened to big heart?"

"Old dog with a big heart."

"I'm assuming there's a compliment some where in there?"

"The black ain't empty, it's too full. That is, a hole isn't a hole, it's a spot where you can't see what's always been there."

Mal blinked for a second. River had a way of saying things that you knew you had to carry with you, whether they made any kind of sense at all.

Footsteps. Broad, steady, but not so heavy as to indicate a primate.

"Simon." His name came out like a song, and she waved at him with the toe of her boot.

"River." His face was blank, but his eyes were all swirls of concerned and confused. "Did you--"

"Cap'n wanted some comp'ny, he just didn't know it." She rocked forward to standing, training her gaze at her older brother. "And you were having those dreams again."

Mal was no Tam-genius or nothing, but reading the signals made the message loud and clear. Her hands were on her hips again and Simon's face was redder than a bowl of cherries.

Simon cleared his throat and started to gesture River towards the door while his eyes got intimate with the floor. "Now, i mei mei /i , you should be in bed. You can play pilot some more in the morning."

"But, Simon, there's no morning in the black."

Simon narrowed his eyes and River pinched his nose shut. He muttered a nasal "mei mei" before pulling her hand away by the wrist.

"That's her new trick." Mal brushed the side of his nose with his thumb to indicate. Simon had that look about him like he was too good to roll his eyes. Or too tired. Or frustrated. Mal swallowed a chuckle and River was smiling at him like he'd just been read.

"Just coverin' up the holes, Capt'n!" She gave him a cross between a twirl and a salute, as Simon gently ushered her out of the helm.

Simon lingered and glanced over Mal. "You need something to help you sleep?"

"No, I've got all I need right here," he reached over to affably pat the console and then his hand froze.

"Mal?"

"I've got all I need right here." Mal spun back around in his new chair, planting his hands on the console, with the black smiling back at him.

"You just said that. Are you sure you're --"

"I know, I was being profound."

Simon backed out of the helm with his brow stitched. He shook his head before finally turning around and heading back into the belly of the ship.

Somewhere else, Mal swore he could hear River giggle.