The weather was pleasant and warm, and Mal relaxed in the sun, leaning his head back against the wall of their housing unit. He closed his eyes and found it amazingly easy to imagine himself resting in the grass on Shadow – he swallowed hard and tried again. Resting in the grass, letting himself savor the relaxing warmth and the pleasant, lazy breeze.

Maybe Wash had a point. This place wasn’t so horrible, and he found it was getting easier by the day to lay his nightmares to the side and enjoy relaxing in the blissful sun, watching Wash’s campy yet somehow hilarious shadow puppet shows, or building his strength back playing nonsensical games with his fellow prisoners. Easier to close his eyes and carry himself to better times past and future, and lie as he was now almost able to trick himself out of being aware that he was in a prison. Easier to trust Khiloh and recognize the kindness so many of his captors had shown; Lee’s quiet wisdom, Quordras’ pleasant voice outside his cell offering comfort and companionship, the doctors and nurses’ compassion and complete dedication to taking a broken stranger and fixing him.

It pained him a little to realize how much his own fear and bitterness had blinded him to the goodness of the people who had tried their best to help him through, and to know he’d lashed out at them or simply ignored them for their efforts. Best not let it happen again, he told himself.

He let his mind wander to Zoe, her visit to his cell and the way she had reached out to him to soothe his many hurts, and the courage and the trust it had taken to bare her soul to him. She’s the reason I’m alive, he thought. In so many more ways than one. If I do make it out of here, I’m gonna relish every single moment I get to walk at her side.

He heard footsteps approaching quietly and opened to eyes to see Wash’s pleasant face, and smiled a greeting.

“Hey, fella,” Wash smiled back. “Mind the company?” Mal shook his head, and Wash grinned, releasing a bundle of blankets and pillows. “Let me show ya’ how this whole lazy afternoon in the sun thing works for normal people. You takes a blanket, lie on it, and you use this thing we call a pillow to put your head on.” He demonstrated teasingly, lying down with exaggerated contentment before lobbing a set to Mal.

Mal accepted the bundle Wash tossed to him, and followed his instructions. He lay down and savored the feeling of being both relaxed and comfortable. Nice combination. He looked lazily in Wash’s direction. “Care for a margarita?”

“Ah, yes indeed,” replied Wash. “Room service!” he called, looking around and waving a hand in the air.

“I already called ‘em,” said Mal. “Be here any moment now, with all kinds a’ drinks with little flowers and umbrellas in ‘em.”

“Bliss.” Wash closed his eyes in contentment. “Mal, what are you gonna do when you get out?”

“Uh- get away, I suppose. Head for one of the outer planets where I can try to avoid thinking on the Alliance too much. Not rightly sure at this point.” He fell silent. What am I going to do? He wondered. “So, you got any plans for when ya’ get out of here?” Mal asked.

Wash pointed at the sky. “Fly,” he said. “Not sure where or for whom, but it’s the one thing I really miss.”

Mal looked over at him, touched. “You’re not one to be stuck on land, are ya? It’s gotta be tough.”

A certain amount of sadness crossed Wash’s eyes as he nodded. “I was kinda born to fly, and it’s always been a sort of escape for me. Escape from a planet where things were so polluted you couldn’t see stars, maybe even escape from a few memories I’m not fond of.” He hesitated before saying almost timidly, “Sounds cheesy, but when I get behind the bridge of a ship again, I’ll have my freedom back.”

“Cheesy’s just a word for those things we want so much, we can’t admit it to anyone else,” replied Mal gently. “Finding your freedom isn’t something to mock.”

Wash was silent for a long minute before responding. “I knew you had a heart locked away in there somewhere,” he said with a smile. “Thanks.”

“I only let it out for walks every so often, don’t want it getting too full of itself,” Mal replied with a grin.

“It’s nice, you should let it out more often,” said Wash. “Wanna hear my grand plan?”

Mal nodded, and Wash launched in enthusiastically. “Before I abandoned all rational thought and joined up with the military, I had a bunch of those big luxury cruise ships trying to hire me. Figure I’ll sign on with one of them, spend my days flying and my evenings stretched out by the pool. Grow a mustache, wear Hawaiian shirts, and best of all, no more people ordering me about.”

“Sounds like a good life,” said Mal. “I’m kinda partial to the idea of flying away from all this – not so much the luxury liner type my own self, but freedom, not answering to the Alliance or anyone else…..” he nodded in satisfaction as his voice trailed off.

“It’s something special, Mal. Whatever troubles you got, you get to just fly above them and leave them behind. Space is empty and peaceful and it makes your ship this – part of you that protects you and carries you wherever you want to go. I’ve never felt safer or more content than I do behind the bridge, and getting off is fun too – planets seem so much more interesting when you’ve been off ‘em for a good while.”

Mal was growing blissfully drowsy in the warmth of the evening sun. “No sun in space,” he commented. “Don’t ya’ feel a bit uneasy, knowing that a little metal is all that stands between you and – uh – death?”

Wash shook his head. “At first, maybe, but…not so much. You learn to trust your ship, and it…..protects you. It’s a good feeling, safe feeling.” He was silent for a minute, and Mal got the impression he was weighing whether to continue. Finally he did.

“Even when I crashed,” Wash closed his eyes momentarily. “I felt safe in my ship. Got shook up really bad, but I wasn’t hurt. It held me and protected me until we stopped, and with my rotten luck it was right outside an Alliance installation, but I wasn’t even that scared.”

He stopped again, looking almost plaintively at Mal. “Until they took me out. They took me out of my ship and I wanted to kick and scream and go running back and hide, I was so terrified. I’m no soldier, Mal. I thought I was until they cuffed my hands and dragged me out of my ship, and there I was just a kid whose worst nightmares all came true.”

Mal’s heart broke for the kind young pilot. “You’re a soldier, Wash. Every soldier I ever met was scared to death by something, and that doesn’t make you any less. I don’t think I’d have the strength to spend six years in here and still have your heart and your compassion.”

“I’m not,” whispered Wash. “I signed up to play hero and I got shot down after a whole two missions. I got taken prisoner and I panicked…..I spend time with you, with the other guys that’ve been here, and it’s – you’re the real soldiers. You fought through a war, I – I completely –“

“Wash!” Mal stopped him, his voice emphatic and kind. “Bein’ a soldier ain’t something to aspire to, an’ there’s not a part of it that involves not bein’ scared. You did your best and that’s the very most you have any right to ask of yourself. I was pretty sick my own self when I woke up on a ship an’ found I was a prisoner. You’re a good man, and stronger than you let yourself think.”

“Thanks, Mal,” said Wash brokenly. “It’s kinda hard to admit just how crummy it feels, that’s all. You're not a criminal, but you're in prison, and now you got no idea if you're ever going to be released. Sometimes you wonder if you deserve to be in here. Maybe if you'd fought better, or tried just a little bit harder, you wouldn't have let your side down."

Mal looked sharply at Wash, hearing the pain in his voice. “Don’t say that!” he said forcefully. “There’s no way you gotta be beatin’ up on yourself for this.” He caught the emotion in his voice and remembered the hours he spent second-guessing himself, concluding that prison and everything that had happened to him were no more than he deserved for leading his men to death and the browncoats to defeat. Maybe that makes a little less sense than you think.

“Look,” he said slowly, thinking as he formed the words. “It hurts, losing. A lot. And maybe we both made some mistakes, but I don’t think any man that fought his best let anyone down. An’ I don’t think we deserve to be in prison, any more’n we deserved to lose that war.”

Wash and Mal’s eyes locked, and Mal saw the gratitude and relief in Wash’s expression. His own heart felt lightened, too. Funny how I could never convince myself of that before.