Mal let the little girl cry herself to sleep, resting her head on his good shoulder. He kept watch, trying to remember her name. 'Molly, wasn't it?' he thought. He saw a beaded bracelet on her little wrist confirming this, and as she awoke she jumped when she realized she was resting on his shoulder. "It's okay" said Mal. He wondered what made him like this, feel a connection with this girl. He figured it was because of what they had in common. Her father, like his was a criminal. Her mother was dead. He brushed a little bit of her dark hair out if her little face. "You've been so brave" he said.
"I want my mom" she said, sniffling.
Mal didn't respond, but continued to brush her hair from her cheek in a comforting way. She eventually went back to sleep, and Mal made a promise to himself that if they both got out of this alive he would never let anything hurt this little girl again. She wasn't his responsibility, but in a way she almost was. She was like him, and he didn't want her life to be like his when he was a kid. She needed a real life, and Mal wanted to give it to her. For a moment, he almost imagined her being his daughter. He smiled at that idea, and thought how proud he would be if she was.