Mal nodded at the first half of Wisp's statement. She looked miserable. Mal felt a twinge of sympathy for her, despite the fact he hated how she looked at him — brimming with guilt and pity, like he was a mistake she needed to fix.

Yeah, he said quietly. I don't think anything's gone the way we thought it would. Mal wished he knew what to say, but the truth was, he didn't know what he was doing half the time either. I —  I dunno where you're supposed to be. And I ah, can't really tell you what's right, either. But — well, for the record...I'm glad you're here.

When an apology followed after, it came with a tidal wave of mixed feelings. It was still weird, someone so readily admitting a mistake. The sincerity and raw grief bleeding off Wisp. The need for absolution swirling behind her eyes.

Shaking his head, Mal squinted off into the freshly blowing snow. Thinking he saw the glint of something shining in the distance, he aimed his shambling steps in that direction as he fumbled for the right thing to say.

Yeah, I know, he said finally, his own gaze softening as he met hers. Look — this whole thing has been a total shitshow, but I really don't blame you. Or — or Sarge. He didn't do this on purpose, right? Neither did you. That's good enough for me. But — Mal slowed. Grimaced, nose wrinkling and tugging his scars. God, Wisp, you've gotta stop looking at me like that. Like — like I'm some poor, sad little bird you're gonna drag home and nurse back to health. A huff. You don't even treat you own damn kids like they're this fragile. I'm not gonna break that easy. It sucks, but — I'll live.