Disclaimer: Don't own Firefly.

A/N: Set about five hours after "Zoe."


That night the lights were dimmed in the kitchen. Of course, Kaylee's smile brightened it up enough. Everyone was seated around the table.

"You almost done in there?" Jayne asked, setting his cup down on the table heavily, "I'm starving away t' nothin' over here."

Wash snorts into his water, to which his loving wife gives a laugh. They're holding hands under the table. Mal is sitting at the head of the table, surveying his crew while having a civilized conversation with Inara, the events of that afternoon apparently forgotten.

Kaylee sat next to Jayne, fidgeting nervously in her seat and looking over her shoulder to survey the cook behind the counter.

Karla bustled around the kitchen, pulling large, round meat-flavored protein balls out of the oven, straining pasta, and tossing real vegetable salad. A loaf of bread was waiting to be cut on the counter. The young cook let out a deep breath, stirred the red sauce once more, and began to set things out on the table.

Wash let out a whoop and everyone jumped into action. Karla sat down on Zoe's other side.

Mal seems indifferent to Karla's cooking; neither pleased nor disappointed. She shrugged and piled spaghetti and lumpy "meatballs" onto her plate, adding salad and bread last minute.

The crew laughed about their experiences that day. They shared stories with each other. It was like a family. Karla felt somehow left out. She sat quietly and ate until she had cleaned her plate.

Dinner came to a close. Everyone was pleasantly full and cheery. Wash stood up. It looked like he was drunk on food-goodness.

"I'd like to propose a toast!" He said with a grin. "To our newest little renegade, Karla. And her very fine cooking." He turned to Karla, who was now very red in the face and slowly sliding down in her chair. "May you make many more delicious dinners. And not be shot as often as Jayne is." Zoe slapped her husband softly on the arm, and the table laughed. Karla noticed Mal had taken a drink at Wash's toast and muttered a soft, "Here, here."

Something else was on her mind, though.

"Um... How often does Jayne get shot?"


"Shouldn't you be asleep?"

Karla turned around to see who had addressed her. It was the Captain. He strode up to where she was sitting, her legs swinging off the catwalk.

"Sorry." She said quickly, starting to get up. He shakes his head and pushes her back down. Captain Reynolds sat down next to her.

"I guess I'm kinda relishing the fact I don't gotta take orders from anyone now. We had a curfew back at the Orphanage." Karla looks out over the cargo bay.

"That ain't true." Mal corrects. Karla looks up and meets his eyes, looking unsure. "I'm the captain of this boat. You take orders from me, or Zoe if I'm down and out. As for curfew, there isn't one. You jus' make sure you get enough sleep to keep you alert. Never know what might happen on this boat." He states the last sentence in an undertone, and Karla is unsure whether she was supposed to hear it or not.

"Yes, Sir." Karla says automatically. Mal puts a hand up.

"Nobody 'cept Zoe calls me 'Sir'. Kaylee on occasion to tease, but no one else. You can call me Captain. Or maybe even Mal, if I'm in a good enough mood."

Karla nods.

"It's weird..." Says the girl beside the Captain, "The Orphanage was so much bigger than this ship, it made me feel small and cramped at the same time. Serenity's tinier than that place, and I still feel small. And yet, at the same time I feel..." She trails off, blushing pink a bit.

"Free." Mal states. They look at each other and Karla nods again.

"Does that mean I get to stay?" She asked tentatively.

"Yeah. You are a fine little cook. I don't think I could leave you out on some moon, anyway. Lot of bad folk out in this 'verse. Wouldn't leave anyone alone to deal with 'em."