"Son of a bitch," Mal breathed into the darkness. His voice was low and hard but full of recognition: every hint Simon had dropped him had just been confirmed. If Wash exiting Jayne's bunk in the middle of the night wasn't enough of a telltale sign, his disheveled appearance sealed the deal.

Wash was alert and tensed immediately. Meeting Mal in this situation was frightening enough, but for the man to be wielding a gun in his hand didn't put Wash at ease any. "Mal," he began, uncertainly.

"So, it's true then," Mal stated bleakly. "Everything Simon's been sayin' 'bout you'n'Jayne." He gestured with his gun toward the bunk Wash had just climbed from.

Wash tried to turn the conversation. "What are you doing standing out here? It's the middle of the night," he began softly, hesitantly.

"Was waitin' for Jayne t'surface," Mal replied in a dark tone. "Aimed to put a stop to this, one way or th'other." He raised the gun as if for emphasis.

This caused Wash's brows to furrow. Despite the fight he'd just had, he wasn't about to see Jayne get cut down by an overreacting Mal. "You were going to shoot him?" he asked, incredulously.

"Still aim to, if need dictates," Mal answered in a cold, serious tone.

There was silence for a moment, and then Wash squared his shoulders off to Mal, planting his feet firmly in front of Jayne's bunk. "Over my dead body," he announced.

Mal looked him over warily. "Ain't necessarily gonna be opposed to that, neither." In the darkness Mal's eyes had no depths: they were just cesspools of black.

"Are you insane?" Wash fearfully asked, then his tone turned hard. "We're both adults, Mal. What he and I do together in our off-time is hardly any of your business."

"Normally I'd be of a like mind," Mal answered icily, "but that line gets crossed when what you do starts endangerin' th'lives of my crew."

For a second Wash just stared at Mal. He looked back to Jayne's bunk and shook his head. "It's not like we're building bombs or plotting a mutiny, if that's what you think. Just what the hell did Simon tell you?"

"T'ain't th'act that's at issue here," Mal calmly replied, stepping forward. "If it were just that, I'd as soon look the other way. Certainly don't want to get myself involved in this." His eyes were more illuminated now that he was closer, but they still remained just as unreadable. "What you fail t'see is how what you two are doin' is affectin' the rest of my crew."

Wash remained confused, and now he was starting to get angry. "What the hell are you talking about, Mal? No one even knows what're we're doing."

This caused Mal's eyebrows to shoot up. "Oh, don't they? Am I no one? How 'bout Simon, huh? He and River both know, an'that makes three of us. Plus you'n'Jayne makes five, and there's only seven folks on this boat."

"Well, so what? I don't even care if everyone knows," Wash spat. He was clearly agitated by this knowledge being passed around, and he fought hard not to let it bother him. Regardless, it still didn't explain Mal's reaction: he still didn't have a reason to kill anyone. "So that's it? You don't like it, so you aim to kill Jayne and me off? That's real impartial of you, sir," he snarled.

"I don't much like the idea of Jayne using y'for his own gain," Mal stated darkly. "Man ought t'know better than that. Think maybe he ought to be taught a lesson in learnin' t'listen t'what his authorities tell him. An'you done come and heaped this mess upon me, and it ain't a kindess." He paused for a second.

"Need me t'go on?" Mal asked. "I ain't seen River in a state like this for over a year now. Trust this boat to that girl these days, and if she's got her thoughts all muddled with what you and Jayne are doing, she can't fly right. She don't fly right, we crash and die. And I don't like dying, not particularly." He looked Wash over. "Get th'feelin' you don't care for it much, neither."

Mal circled to the left, trying to get past Wash and closer to Jayne's bunk. "Now, that girl's certainly had some truly crazy notions, but every time she starts up with the yammerin', it tends t'turn out what she's sayin' makes a kind of sense. Surely saved us on more than one occasion. So when she tells me I better put an end t'you two or else risk my whole crew, I don't see much choice nor reason t'hesitate."

"Gorramit, Mal, you are the most stubborn hun dan in existence," Wash snarled, but he didn't back off. "Always fighting for the moral high ground, protecting the crew even if that means killing half of it off." Wash crossed his arms. "Well, you can forget your crusade now. Jayne wasn't using me; if anything, I was using him. And anyway, it's over now." He lifted his chin to gesture towards the bunk. "Man-ape here listens to the Doc more than we ever thought. He dumped me tonight, per Simon's request."

Silence stretched between them for a bit as Mal tried to work his brain around all of that. When he finally did, some of his tension deflated. His brow furrowed as he demanded, "What the hell were you thinkin', Wash?"

"Ji du, Mal, don't make me explain this."

"You'd best be 'cause my finger's still feelin' a mite tetchy on this here trigger, and I ain't sure I can trust neither one of you sha gua anymore."

Wash sighed heavily and looked around the crew quarters. "Fine," he sighed, "but not here," he gestured with a hand. "And not with you pointing a gun at me."

"Suit yourself," Mal agreed and stuck his gun back in its holster. "Galley, then," he prompted and turned, gesturing for Wash to go first.

With a last glance back at Jayne's bunk, Wash bowed his head resignedly and headed into the kitchen. He pulled out a chair at the table but just leaned against the back of it. Mal followed him down the stairs and stood at the front of the table, arms crossed expectantly.

"Now, I don't expect you to start getting' int'detail, here. In fact, I'd take it as a kindness if you didn't. But I do expect y't'tell me what in the gorram hell you thought you'd accomplish with this yu ben scheme you cooked up with Jayne."

Wash looked away from him. Standing in the well-lit kitchen without the danger of Mal killing anyone made it harder for him to start talking. The location had gotten too comfortable, and everything he had to say was messed up. It was too dysfunctional for the comfort the kitchen usually provided. He stared hard at the floor and ran a hand up into his hair. "I'm messed up bad, Mal," he finally whispered.

Mal said nothing. He simply stood there and watched Wash and listened.

Receiving no reply, Wash looked over to Mal briefly. His stony hard features weren't any softer, so he averted his eyes again and continued with great difficultly. "I can't even really explain it." He paused to sigh and gather his words. "I sort of fell into it, and it worked out; he didn't exactly protest. It meant I got a few hours of sleep each night and that, for a little while, I could forget about how horrible life is." His hands flexed at his sides, and he shook his head. "I mean, at least Jayne tried. Maybe it's not the right thing, but it was what I needed—someone to be there for me, to comfort me."

"Jayne weren't providing comfort, Wash," Mal replied in a flat voice.

"I don't expect you to ever understand, Mal," Wash grumbled softly. "But I've got a pain so deep that nothing else could get it out. I needed that. I still need it." Wash's eyes had unfocused as he stared at the floor, but he didn't mind it, for once.

Mal's weight shifted as he lowered his arms, but he didn't draw any closer. "Pain is a language I speak fluently, Wash," he returned, his tone just a bit softer. "I seen a whole lot of if in my time, and I know I don't got to remind you of that.

"You got a fine, healthy wife won't take you back just now, and some friends that maybe ain't yet comfortable about you. You got a few maladies ain't healin' right 'cause you ain't followin' doctors orders, and you're belly aching 'bout all that? Hell, Wash, I seen more death and destruction than anyone on this boat. I ought t'be doubled over with guilt every day. I got every reason in the 'verse t'be escapin' to a place where physical pain overrides the mental pain." His tone was gentler now, and he drew closer to add with a smirk, "but even I ain't sleepin' with Jayne t'get over it."

The comment caused Wash to look up and over at Mal and a faint smile graced his lips at the absurdity of it all. He quickly sobered, his eyes reflecting his sadness. "You've never died, Mal." He gestured ineffectively at the air in front of him. "You don't know what it's like to see your wife and know that she's right there--everything about her is perfect and the same--yet you can't have her. You feel the same way about her, but she doesn't feel the same about you anymore. When I needed her the most, she turned her back to me."

Wash's fingers gripped tightly into fists, and he exhaled the pain inside him. "You've never woken up in an Alliance hospital and laid there all day, staring at the ceiling, trying with all your might to remember how you got there and where the last month of your life had gone."

Wash turned his head and fixed his bloodshot eyes on Mal. "You've never forgotten your mother's name or whether or not you had any siblings. There are huge patches of my memory just missing, Mal. And I used to be a pilot! One of the best gorram pilots ever come out of Orion Flight Academy, practically head of my class! I'm almost afraid to fly this boat again because you won't let me, and maybe I shouldn't ever be able to. Sometimes my fingers tremble just bringing my kuai zi to my mouth to eat."

Wash looked away again, his expression darkening even more. "You've never laid alone in bed and realized everyone you know and love was a whole lot happier when you were dead."

Wash fell into silence, and Mal let him stand there for a moment, thinking on what he'd just said. Mal pulled out the chair beside Wash's and leaned up against it beside him. "I've seen thousands of my men lying dead on the fields around me," he quietly stated. "I've smelled their corpses rotting in the sun. I even been responsible for killin' a few of them myself, many my friends, as a mercy. I seen the planet I was born on razed by the Alliance; seen my own ma's flesh burnt and known I hadn't been there t'save her. Known she'd died wonderin' where I was, why I went off t'fight this war but wasn't there when it came home t'her.

"I woke in cold sweats every night for months knowin' it was me that took Zoe's man from her. It was my plan cost you your life, my scheme what broke the unbreakable. I killed Book. I killed the Sanchez brothers, Lee Chen and Patience, Fanty and Mingo, Mr. Universe and all those children. Those deaths are my fault. I should've prevented them." His eyes narrowed darkly, staring at the floor. "I know pain, and I know loss. We all have our ghosts, and we all have different ways of comin' t'terms with them. All I'm sayin' is that what you're doing ain't the right way."

The air was rife with the silent tension between them. At last, Wash nodded and pushed off the chair to face Mal. "I know it isn't right. And I'm not going to see Jayne again," he stated flatly. "Not like I was, anyway. But these words of encouragement from you are hardly sound advice." Mal looked up at him, their eyes reflecting the sorrow between them. Wash put on a faint smile, but his tone was disdainful. "The way you deal isn't any healthier than the way I deal."

There was another moment of silence. Their eyes seemed to say more than their words could, and Mal found it hard to look away from him. They both knew in that moment that Wash was right.

Wash shrugged, finished with the confrontation and the conversation. He turned and mounted the stairs, heading out of the kitchen. He put his foot on the door to his quarters and popped it open, throwing one last glance into the galley. "G'night, Mal," he called rather sadly.

"Wash," Mal called and halted him before he slipped into his room. "I catch you with Jayne after this, hurtin' yourself again," he put his hand on his gun, "I won't be issuin' a warnin' t'neither of you."

Wash just nodded, giving him a sad look. "You won't get your second chance," he supplied and slipped down into his bunk.

That night was the first night he'd truly slept alone since starting in with Jayne.
--

Wash awoke several hours later when Serenity broke atmosphere. He was discontent to realize he hadn't even known they'd be going planet-side today. He hadn't paid much attention at all to the jobs the crew had been pulling lately, choosing instead to exist in his own slowly collapsing, little world.

Sitting up, he found that his mind had changed over night. He wanted a new lease on life, and he wanted to try again. He wanted to know where they were going and why, and he wanted to get his head out from under the dark cloud he'd taken refuge under. He definitely wasn't going to let himself fall apart simply because the unhealthy relationship with Jayne had folded. He was going to find another, better way to deal with his pain, or at least he was going to try.

By the time he had dressed and dragged himself out of his bunk, the ship had landed and the cockpit was empty. He headed down to the cargo bay where he found Mal, Jayne, and Zoe loading several heavy, freshly excavated crates. Wash's eyes narrowed a little at the blatant Blue Sun logo on each one.

"We takin' jobs for the Alliance now?" he asked skeptically as he hit the ground floor.

The three looked up at him, and Wash pointedly kept his eyes focused on Mal's face. Both Jayne and Zoe were impossible for him to look at right then.

"Pullin' the rug out from under them," Mal supplied, patting the crate he was standing beside. "These are knock-off Blue Sun products. They manufacture them out here on the Rim, some of it nearly good as the real thing and made for a fraction of th'cost. Sell 'em to the Alliance folk at full price and close up shop'n'skip town 'fore anyone gets suspicious. Stick it to th'Alliance, undermine Blue Sun, and make money?" Mal grinned toothily. "Hell, this job almost pays for itself in the sheer fun of doin' it."

Clearly, whatever argument they'd had the previous night had been somewhat brushed aside. Even Jayne seemed to be off the hook at the moment. Wash was glad for that, although it didn't settle the cargo situation for him at all.

"Somehow, I doubt three-thousand cans of knock-off Xin Zui cola is really going to hurt the Alliance that much," Wash projected, deciding to play it cool.

Mal shrugged and bent to shoulder another crate into place. "Maybe not, but it sure feels good sayin' we did it. And the pay ain't bad."

"It's all wrong. Inside out. Has to go."

The four of them turned together, their eyes lifting to the catwalk where River stood staring down at them. Her hands gripped the metal railing tightly, and her hair draped down and framed her face as she leaned forward.

"What now?" Jayne called up, his face a picture of confusion.

"It isn't right!" River shouted down at them. "They're inside, trying to get out. Must get it out. Has to go."

"What has to go?" Mal asked suspiciously. He started toward the stairs that led to where she was standing. Something was off about her.

"Bugs under the skin, crawling," she muttered. "Help them. It wants out. It needs to come out, but there's so much confusion. People dying; it isn't their time!" Her hand went up into her hair, clutching it violently.

"River, it's okay," Mal started. "Calm down!"

"They all have stories to tell, but there's too much confusion," she continued, her voice growing more frantic. "Their voices are cutting off. So many places to go. It's got to arrive." Her eyes fixed suddenly on Wash's. "The cargo!" She shouted at him and closed her eyes as though pained. "There are too many voices, too many! Make them stop screaming! I can't understand them!" She seemed on the verge of tears; her hands pulled at her hair. "It's got to get there!" Then she broke into wails. "No, no!"

When her legs gave out a few seconds later and she collapsed on the catwalk, the others started up the stairs at a run. Mal reached her first and pulled her into his arms. She was trembling and shaking the way she had when she'd first come to them, her hands still pulling at her hair. She kept muttering about things needing to get out and how she couldn't hear them.

"Jayne! Find the Doc!" Mal shouted, bending to scoop River up to carry her into the infirmary.
--

Mal paced outside the sickbay as Simon worked on his sister inside. The cargo had since been loaded by he, Zoe, Jayne, and Wash, and now that it was in place, there was nothing to do but wait. They weren't about to fly Serenity without a pilot. After what seemed like hours, Simon finally opened the doors to the infirmary and slipped out. They could see River on the examination table, apparently asleep. Simon looked exhausted, and his eyes were sad.

"What is it?" Mal immediately demanded.

Simon shook his head. "I can't find anything wrong with her, but she won't calm down. I had to sedate her."

This news did not appear to please Mal. "Well, what set this off? I thought we were over these spells of hers. Been over a year now since she broke down on us."

Simon shook his head. "I don't know. I'm as surprised as you are. All I can gather is that the cargo set her off somehow. She saw it, and it triggered something," he shrugged helplessly. "It's making her psychic senses override everything else. She's hearing everyone and everything both now and in the future, I think. It's too much information, and she's unable to filter it. It's as if . . . the cargo broke her."

Mal's face was stern and cold. "Fine. We drop the cargo, take another job."

"No!" Simon quickly countered. "No, I mean. She's adamant about doing this job. She wasn't very coherent, but she did make that clear. It was the only thing I could get from her."

Zoe, Wash, and Jayne drew up behind Mal, all with expressions of uncertainty on their faces. Wash watched River sleeping through the observation window, and Jayne studied Simon distrustfully.

"Zoe?" Mal asked, glancing over to her.

She inclined her head. "Don't like it, sir," she stated.

"Me neither," he agreed. "But the girl ain't often wrong."

"Why she suddenly go all buggy insane over it, though?" Jayne questioned, narrowing his eyes. "That don't strike nobody as maybe seriously not-right?"

"Don't sit too well with me, neither," Mal agreed, fixing his eyes on Simon. "What's the rec, Doc? You think we deliver this cargo and the girl'll get her senses back?"

Simon shrugged. "I don't know. That's what I'm hoping. I don't know what else to suggest."

Wash looked away from River, his brow furrowed. "It could be a trap. Some sort of clever ploy."

All attention was drawn to him. "Explain," Mal prompted.

Wash looked bewildered for a moment and then he gestured lamely. "Well, what if the knock-offs are a plant by the Alliance trying to get to River again?" He squinted as though he was trying to remember something. "Didn't they plant stuff in her head to set her off? You know, like the thing in the bar?"

He was met with blank stares all around. "You know, the bar?" he prompted. "When River went all crazy and took Jayne out?"

Jayne snorted. "That'll be the day," he grumbled and fixed Wash with a steely glare.

Simon's brows went up. "Well, he might be right, Captain," he agreed. "There could be some sort of trigger setting River off. We know that the Blue Sun Corporation isn't exactly in our good graces."

Mal shook his head. "Girl's seen that logo plenty o'times; ain't never shut her down like that."

"Well, it could be where the cargo is going," Simon suggested. "She might be seeing the future of it. In fact, I'm fairly sure she is."

"And she don't want us to drop it?" Zoe questioned skeptically.

"She was very adamant that it got delivered," Simon replied. "I don't know what exactly will happen, but I think we should take it and make the rendezvous point. Maybe the people there can give us a clue about what's inside."

"Or we could put it right back out in that hole and forget about all this," Jayne countered. "I, for one, ain't welcoming a return to dearly departed crazy-person River."

Mal seemed to be contemplating a dark decision. "Girl might only get worse we take the cargo back off the boat. She wants it delivered, then maybe we best get to deliverin'. If she don't improve as we get closer, then maybe we review our options again."

Simon nodded in silent agreement.

Mal looked to Zoe for her confirmation. She shifted her weight. "Don't like it, but don't see as how we have much choice."

Jayne grunted. "Well, fine. We get rid of the cargo either way, but least this way we get paid." He nodded towards the infirmary. "Ain't we forgettin' something though?" he asked. Off everyone's expectant looks, he added, "River being all unconscious means we ain't got ourselves a pilot."

Zoe glanced to Mal, but everyone else immediately focused their eyes on Wash.
--

Mal stalked up the stairwell from the cargo bay to the crew quarters with Zoe hot on his heels. Wash had already gone up to the cockpit to prep the ship, and Jayne had stayed below to secure the cargo.

"Just don't see why you can't fly her, sir," Zoe called as she followed Mal up the stairs. "He ain't exactly a picture of health these days. Won't do us no good he crashes us into our rendezvous point."

Mal turned around sharply on the stairs and looked down at Zoe. His eyes were dark and serious, and he found the seclusion of the long stairwell adequate privacy for his statement. "You gonna take everything from him, woman?" he questioned hotly. "You took his love, you took his friendship. You ain't even tried to open up t'him again. The man needs to fly much as he needs to breath. Don't take this from him."

This brought Zoe up, and she blinked at him in shock. Clearly, she was at a loss for words. "Sir?" she finally managed. "You been talkin' to him?"

Mal pressed his lips together tautly for a moment and then nodded. "I have. Gave me a bowl o'insight, too. Y'ought t'try it. What I think he needs is something familiar to hold to, what he can touch and believe in. He ain't getting that from you, and he ain't likely t'get it from anyone else on this boat, neither. I ain't been payin' enough attention to his needs, and now that's gonna change. He's got two loves, and them's you and this boat. I can't give him you, but I can let him fly her. Do him a world of good, too, I reckon."

He stared at her a moment longer before turning the corner and starting up the second flight of stairs.

Zoe remained on the landing for a moment, watching Mal's back as he climbed up. Then she shook her head and started up after him. "Thinkin' you've gotten too trustin' these days, sir," she called.

He turned back around at those words, staring down the stairwell at her. His eyes were dark and narrowed. "Least one of us has," he retorted. He paused for a moment, choosing his words, and pointed at her. "You say 'I told you so' if this don't work; I'll let you, no arguments. It does work; I don't want t'hear another complaint about it."

Zoe knew her place. "Yes, sir," she responded cautiously.

"Good. Now, we got a job t'do." He resumed his ascent and came out on the landing at the crew quarters. He turned and stalked up the stairs to the cockpit to find Wash already seated in the pilot's chair with the ship's engines started and the take-off sequences half initiated.

Mal surveyed the console briefly and nodded. "Good, let's take her up." He moved to the co-pilot seat and slid in; he was willing to trust, but he wasn't going to be reckless. Zoe came onto the bridge a moment later.

Wash didn't reply; he was already completely engrossed in his job. His hands operated without him thinking about it, turning knobs and flipping switches as he finished the take-off sequence for the ship. The engines started,and Serenity rumbled to life. He glanced once at his co-pilot and took the yoke in one hand, pressing the final ignition sequence with the other. A heartbeat later, Serenity was in the air, skimming over desert and gaining altitude fast.

They broke atmosphere without incident. The sudden wash of noiselessness that space afforded them was lulling and comforting, as if a warm blanket had suddenly been draped over the ship. There were no tremors, no hitches or shimmies. The transition had been flawless and right.

"That felt good," Zoe said softly, almost to herself. She looked down and found her hand on the back of the pilot's chair. She quickly removed it.

Mal nodded in agreement. "She knew you," he stated tenderly. "She don't fly like that, not for River. She ain't flown that way since…"

Wash pressed his lips tightly together and closed his eyes for a moment, soaking in the feelings. There was none of the tension he'd thought he would have sitting in the pilot's chair again. He didn't fear it. He had no flashbacks of a death he couldn't remember. He just felt a great sense of homecoming and belonging.

Opening his eyes, he looked out at the stars through the observation windows and sighed. "Well, it's nice to know someone here missed me." It was a whisper, but loud enough that the other two heard him.

Zoe looked at the back of Wash's head for several seconds before focusing on the stars. "How long 'til we reach our destination?" she questioned, breaking the mood.

Mal pressed a few buttons. "About five days, we keep this course and the girl don't have any worse attacks." He looked up from the console to Wash and then to Zoe. There seemed to still be something innately right about their positioning, even though the peaceful quiet had been disrupted.

Zoe nodded and addressed Wash without looking at him. "You get us there in one piece, maybe people'll start respectin' you again, Pilot." She turned on her heels and headed out. "Better check on the girl, see that she ain't offed the Doctor yet."

Once her footsteps had receded, Wash let a goofy grin creep onto his face. His hands were light and comfortable on the yoke, and he leaned back in the pilot's chair easily. From his view, he could see three of his dinosaurs on the console as well as the flight plan he had charted and imputed. Beyond that, he could make out a bit of Mal's reflection in the observation glass. "That went better than expected," he stated faintly.

Mal nodded to himself thoughtfully. "Woman was always a mite unpredictable."

Wash agreed with a single nod, and as he did, his smile faded down. He patted Serenity softly with one hand and shook his head. A thought occurred to him, and his eyes saddened. "No. I'm forgetting who it is we're talking about. Zoe ain't that easy. I forgot a lot of things, but not Zoe."

"Wouldn't say this's been easy," Mal countered. "She ain't hardly invitin' you t'her bed yet, neither."

Wash sighed. "Well, it's a step in the right direction. It doesn't mean anything, though. She still doesn't trust me. Getting us through this mission isn't going to make her trust me, either."

Mal nodded in agreement. "Hard to trust someone you don't respect," he stated. "Think you'd best be grateful for the little things."

Wash closed his eyes tightly. "It's just such a long way to go," he muttered. "A long, lonely way, and I'm just not even sure the end result will be worth it."

"What's that?" Mal questioned.

Wash glanced over to him briefly and shrugged. "Do I really ever want to just be Zoe's friend?"

Mal pondered this for a moment, looking intently at Wash. "Hard t'fall in love with someone you ain't friends with first."

They looked at each other for a long time before Wash pulled his eyes off Mal and focused them on the ship. It was hard to remember that last night this man had confronted him with a gun and now he was being trusted to fly his ship. He smirked a little and nodded. Life could be worse.

Mal had identified the problem, and now he was setting out to fix it. Maybe things could be better. Maybe respect could grow into trust, and love from that. "Well," he commented softly, "I guess I haven't really got any choice but to wait and see."