The next morning after breakfast, Mal was laying on his bunk watching Wash pace around restlessly. “Looks like Khiloh’s on duty,” said Wash, peering out the window. “Wanna come meet him?”

“Uhh…” Mal raised his eyebrows and shook his head comically. “You mean, like for fun? You want me to go chat with a yu bun duh Alliance prison guard for fun?”

“Yeah, that’s pretty much the idea,” said Wash with a grin. “He’s a cool guy; sometimes call him my friend when nobody’s listening.”

Mal was staring at Wash; his eyes open wide in disbelief, part of it humorous, part of it genuine. “You made friends with him?”

Wash nodded. “They tend to assign officers to one area, so you’ll get the same guys most of the time, get to know them. Matter of fact, he’s the fella got me those boxes I used to jump out at ya’ from.” Taking pity on the befuddled Mal, he sat down on his bunk and explained.

“Their job’s this side of miserable. Each guy gets three units to patrol, and they can’t enter the yards alone, so their job consists of walking up and down the same strip of gravel all day and helping with the escort any time one of us needs to get taken somewhere. Rain or shine, they’re stuck out there bored to death.”

“Kinda sounds like we have it better in here,” commented Mal dryly.

Wash chuckled. “I did invite him in for tea and cookies by the fire once, but for some unknown reason he didn’t take me up on it.”

Mal looked around. “Maybe he ain’t over fond of the internal decorations. Feng shui of the place feels kinda off.”

“Could be. I’m actually kind of worried about Khiloh. He used to be this outgoing, cheerful guy.” Wash frowned. “Last few months, he’s been different, all withdrawn, seems to have a hard time chatting any more. Doesn’t want to look me in they eye–“ Wash hesitated over his words. “Almost seems scared to. It makes me wonder if he got into trouble for fraternizing with the prisoners or something.”

Mal grinned. “Even better. You want me to come meet a potentially unstable Alliance guard?”

Wash returned the smile, but the soberness Mal had seen before flickered across his face. “Mal, I’ve seen how you react when they get near you. Seems you’re not entirely-“

“I react?” asked Mal. “I don’t react!” he protested.

“No, you don’t react. Don’t change your expression, don’t move, don’t breathe. I’m just gonna guess what they done to you was something that didn’t involve pretty flowers and stimulating conversation.”

Mal met his eyes hesitantly, impressed, and Wash gave him a half-smile. “Tell you what. Since we got a few months, let me tell you a few things about the men who run our lives.”

"Some of them are inherently sadistic, and spend their time trying to get around those pesky little prohibitions against tormenting the prisoners. Others, they look at us and they see their brother killed by our side in the war, sister lying paralyzed in a hospital bed from one of our grenades, or maybe a best friend, vanished off the face of the earth the day he was hauled off to an Independent prison camp.”

“But more of ‘em look at us and see themselves. They wonder how things would’ve turned out if they'd been shipped out to the battlefield ‘stead of stationed in a prison, and deep down it kinda haunts them to know it could be them behind the bars. They wonder how they'd be treated, and imagine what they're doing must feel like to us. Those are the ones with compassion."

"I think I've met a few of each," said Mal under his breath. "How come you know so much about these guys, anyway?"

"Been here a while. You get to know how things work, get to know some of these guys personally. With the good ones, enough time passes, you get to trust each other to an extent, even call them my friends. Khiloh’s one of them, Mal.”

Mal stood. “All right, let’s go meet ‘im. But if he kills me, you an’ I are gonna have words.”

Wash bounced to his feet with a happy grin, his enthusiasm infectious. Mal followed him out to the gate of the yard.