River is still asleep, Simon deaf to the world as he studies his data. Mal watches them both. He wonders whether he can do anything to ease their burden; he wonders whether he should act to protect the rest of his crew. These are questions he has kicked around like a battered footyball since the day they came on board. He knows by now he won't solve them; instead, he just lets the thoughts circle around hoping the problems solve themselves.

Simon sighs and buries his face in his hands, then reaches up to rub his own neck. Sometimes Mal thinks the boy cares too much about his sister, that it ain't right, but he acknowledges that his own sense of what a right relationship is ain't too perfect either. And nothing about River is right, not even the moments when she is lucid. It makes the cold shriveled thing he calls a heart ache more than he likes to admit.

His eyes are drawn to a wad of fluff stuffed in River's fist. It's that same brilliant, mind-searing orange as Jayne's knit cap; Mal thinks it might be the very thing. That's another wrongness he should be looking into. Jayne's been withdrawn all day, which is normally a good thing, but Mal's afraid there might be things a brewing that are better left unperked. He closes his eyes, wishes those thoughts away.

When he opens them again, he sees Kaylee hovering on the other side of the glass, her face drawn with worry. His very own little sister. When he thinks about Kaylee, he thinks he might just understand the bond between Simon and River. He's more than willing to do murder on her behalf.

He crosses the room, lays a hand on Simon's tense shoulders. The boy jumps a little.

"Easy, doc. Just me."

He gives those muscles a couple quick squeezes, then lets go. "Come on, time for you to take a break. Have you eaten today?"

He rides over Simon's protests in his captainly way, nods to Kaylee as he guides the doctor out of the room. He may not have all the answers, but he tries the best he can for his crew.

On to Shattered Prism.