It was little things.

Mal's favorite dress of hers fitting a bit tighter.

Her breasts a bit more tender.

And the clincher being a small pair of knitted pink baby booties under her pillow, even before she'd asked Simon to do the test. River had probably known from the moment of conception that she was about to be an 'auntie.'

Inara did her math. It had probably been from the first time they'd made love. Irony in that, as she'd hardly have called it 'love.' at that point. Raw, urgent, needful. But not love.

As it was, whatever was between them was still fragile and delicate, prone to tempers from both of them. Just a week ago, she'd been an inch from sending a teacup flying at Mal's head. Predictably, it had ended on the kitchen table with the sound of ripping material. And yet, when it was over, he'd finally told her he loved her. That had been almost two months after their first time.

She'd been so careful, knowing neither of them were ready for this. Still, in his more thoughtful moods, he'd alluded to wanting children. Someday. For a man such as Mal, that could be tomorrow, five years from now, or never. He was given to whimsy that way.

Nevertheless, whether he'd just been wishing for things he'd thought he'd never have or had been serious, there was no denying the reality of it. A person that was half her and half him had been made.

Simon had made discrete murmurs about 'options,' knowing full well she knew what they were. And all she could do was pray to Buddha for guidance.

She recalled something her first House Mother had said: 'Buddha whispers to us through fragile and delicate things. And sometimes, we have to lean down to hear.'

Fragile and delicate. Not unlike the spark she carried inside her.

Or the spark of love between her and Mal.