FIRST TRIMESTER

“Are you likely to be doing this all the time?” Mal asked from where he was sitting on the bed, pulling on his boots.

Freya looked at him sideways, her head still over the small toilet, naked. “I hope not.” She reached for the towel but it wasn't there. “Shit,” she added quietly.

Mal was on his feet and at her side immediately, picking up the offending item from the floor where it had fallen. “Here,” he said, trying not to look into the toilet as he kicked it closed. It flushed and he pulled the drawer open, dampening the towel under the tap.

Freya stood up carefully, not wanting to move too fast, or jerk too hard, just in case. He pushed her hair back from her forehead and wiped her mouth. “I look like crap,” she commented, glancing into the mirror. “I thought women were supposed to bloom at a time like this.”

“My momma always told me she hated carrying me for nine months,” Mal said conversationally. “What with the morning sickness becoming the afternoon sickness, the back ache, the need to …” He stopped at the look on her face. “Mind, then she said she’d never have had it any other way.” He tried a lopsided grin. “Me being so pretty an’ all.”

She was still glaring at him. “And you think it was worth it.”

He dropped the soiled towel into the sink and put his hands on her shoulders. “Frey, honey, there’s a lot of things in this ‘verse that I think are worth it. Most of ‘em, admittedly, are on board this ship, in this room, but …” He looked deep into her eyes. “If I could I’d take all this for you. The sickness, the back ache, the … all the other stuff.” He stroked her cheek with his thumb. “If I could wave my magic wand and make me blow up like a balloon instead, I’d do that too.”

“You think I look like a balloon?” she asked, turning quickly to look into the mirror. “Oh, God …” Too fast. She jammed her hand over her mouth and Mal had the toilet open again in a moment. And none too soon. She threw up again, loudly, stopping only when there was nothing left.

“We’ll get Simon to give you something,” Mal said softly. “Nothing that’ll harm the baby, but something to stop this.”

“Damn right. It’s your fault,” she moaned as he rubbed her back. “You made this happen.”

“I know. And I'm sorry. I promise, we will never have sex ever again.” He stroked her tattoo, feeling perspiration across her skin.

“Never,” she agreed. “Now, you gonna get me a clean towel?”

---

SECOND TRIMESTER

“I didn’t know what type you wanted,” Mal said, climbing carefully down the ladder with a bag in his hand.

Freya looked at him from the chair by the desk. “What did you get?” She was writing in a small book which she turned over as he stepped to the floor.

“A selection.” He looked at the notebook. “What are you writing?”

“Nothing.” She sat forward. “So show me.”

“So it’s a secret?”

“Course not,” she said brightly, but he wasn't put off.

“Then why won’t you tell me?”

“What, do you think I'm writing to my lover or something?”

He studied her, sitting there in one of his old shirts, barely covering her thighs. “Maybe.”

“But Jayne’s on board,” she pointed out, trying not to smile. “I only need to go down the hall …”

“I see,” Mal said, perching on the edge of the bed. “Simon finally lets you out of here and the first thing you do is arrange some kind of extra-marital tryst.”

“If I thought Jayne would know what it was, yeah.” Her lips twitched.

“I’m wounded.” Mal shook his head and pushed back so he was leaning against the bulkhead. “I’da thought you’d have more taste.”

“I'm pregnant, Mal. A girl has to get what she can. And besides, maybe he counts as an unusual craving …” She couldn’t hold it in any longer and burst into laughter.

Mal grinned. He patted the bed next to him and she scuttled over, pressing her body against his. The shirt rode up a little and he caught a glimpse of the thatch at the top of her thighs. “So what’re you writing?”

She looked down at her hands, almost embarrassed. “A journal.”

“Really?” He dropped his head so he could look her in the face. “How come?”

“Just all the things I’ve been thinking of that I want to tell our child.”

“Like what?” When she didn’t answer, he nudged her gently. “I won’t let anyone else know.”

She turned lifted her head and gazed into his blue eyes. “Just stuff.” She could see that she wasn't going to get away with that as an explanation. “How I feel. About you, this ship. What we’ve been through. Alice.”

Mal nodded. “It’s okay,” he whispered. “I think about her too.”

“I know.” She leaned into him and he put his arm around her. “And this baby isn’t going to replace her, but … there’s just so much I want to say.” She laughed slightly. “And most of it’s total luh suh.”

He squeezed. “No, it ain't. Not if it’s you writing it.” He felt her giggle, the vibration giving him all sorts of thoughts. “Come on, you wanted to see what I bought.”

She sat up and clapped her hands. “Ooh, yes.”

He tipped the bag onto his lap, the bottles clanking together a little. “Take your pick,” he said proudly.

Freya stared. “Well, at least it’s not gun or engine oil.”

“That I could have provided without going spending good coin,” Mal pointed out. “And don’t think it didn’t cross my mind.”

“And I hope you rejected the idea out of hand.”

“Well, I was gonna ask Kaylee –“ She thumped him. He rubbed his arm and added, “I meant what she used.”

“Oh.” She smiled a trifle shamefacedly. “Sorry.” She reached over and kissed him lightly on the cheek in recompense.

“That ain’t gonna make the bruise go away.”

“Then I’ll kiss that better too. And I didn’t hit you hard enough for that.”

“Wuss.”

“Cry baby.”

They laughed, totally at ease together.

Freya picked up one of the bottles and whistled. “How much did all this cost?” she asked, reading the label.

“I thought money was no object,” Mal said, peering at the tiny writing.

“Mal, this is … I didn’t think you could still get this.” She held the small cut-glass bottle up, the yellowish liquid moving lazily inside.

“What am I looking at?” he asked.

“It’s eaglewood oil,” she said. “I’ve never seen it before. Only ever heard of it.”

“Is that good?” He looked at her, honest puzzlement on his face.

“It’s about the rarest oil you can get.”

“Expensive?” He took the bottle from her, holding it up to the light.

“Well, somehow I doubt you had the 18,000 credits I heard the last bottle sold for.”

Mal almost dropped it, grasping it tightly at the last moment. “It has to be a fake,” he said, putting it down carefully on the bed.

“I hope so.” She looked at him. “How much did you pay for it?”

“Nothing.”

“Mal –“

“No, seriously. I found this stall, said what I wanted, and the guy sold me these.” He indicated the other bottles. “Threw this in for nothing ‘cos I said it was pretty.” He touched it gingerly. “How do we find out?”

Freya shrugged. “No idea.”

“Then we open it.” Mal reached for the bottle but she had it out of his way in a moment.

“No. Definitely not.” She got up and put it carefully in her drawer, arranging her socks around it so it wouldn’t break if Serenity made any sharp manoeuvres.

He watched her buttocks appear under the shirt as she leaned over, then said, “Then what are we gonna do with it?”

“Keep it. For when times are hard.” She turned around and looked at him. “Keep us flyin’ a while longer, Mal.”

He smiled at her. “Then one of these’ll do?”

She stepped towards him and studied the bottles. “This one will be fine.” She picked up a square cut affair. “The olive oil can go to the kitchen, and we’ll put the others away for when we need them.” She sat back down, lifting her legs onto his lap, and he put his hands on her knees. “Come on, then,” she said, handing him the bottle and opening her shirt.

In the light he could see her breasts, tipped dark, and below the swell of his child. He moved further up the bed, until his thighs were under hers, supporting her. Opening the bottle he could detect a faint perfume of flowers. “At least it don’t smell like that incense,” he commented, beginning to drizzle a little of the oil over her belly.

As he began to massage the oil into her skin, she put her head back and sighed. “It could be engine grease and it’d still feel wonderful,” she said, feeling his fingers pressing gently.

He watched her face, the look of sheer bliss suffusing it, and tried to concentrate on what he was doing. Damn, but she made him come over all unnecessary at the drop of a hat. “Glad you’re enjoying it,” he said, his voice beginning to deepen.

She smiled, and bounced her thighs slightly in his lap, making her breasts jiggle a little. “Don’t worry,” she said throatily, smiling at the groan he gave. “We’ll take care of that soon, too.”

--

She thought he was asleep, he realised. She’d gotten out of bed, naked as always, and was standing in front of the mirror, looking at herself. She ran a hand over the bulge at her belly, the baby growing inside her, feeling the smooth skin beginning to stretch tighter across her womb, softer now after Mal’s ministrations. She turned sideways, seeing the change in her frame, the way her breasts were fuller, the curve of her back deepening a little, ready to take the weight of her child. Her previous pregnancy hadn’t gotten this far, and she found herself fascinated by the changes occurring.

Mal stood up silently, padding across to her in bare feet, his naked body touching hers.

“You’re beautiful,” he said, standing behind her and reaching around, putting his hands on the growing mound of her stomach.

“Am I?” Freya asked, her hands on his.

“You’re my wife,” he said, pulling her close so he could feel her buttocks tight against his groin. “You’re carrying our baby. Our child, Frey. And you are beautiful.”

She smiled, leaning her head back onto his shoulder as one of his hands moved up to cup her breast. “Won’t be too long before I won’t be able to climb up the ladder, though,” she pointed out as he began to play with her nipple.

“Then we make a place in shuttle two. Or better yet, one of the guest rooms. Then Simon’s only a few feet away,” Mal said firmly, watching her face in the mirror as she became aroused. He felt his own flesh engorging, pushing against her hips. “Give Jayne a chance to finish the nursery.”

“He’s looking forward to being an uncle again,” Freya said, her eyes half closed, rotating her hips slightly into his crotch.

“Never thought I’d see the day,” Mal admitted, all the while stroking her belly.

“Make love to me, Malcolm Reynolds,” Freya murmured.

“Is that what you want, Freya Reynolds?” he asked, rubbing himself against her back, his voice growing husky.

“I don’t know if it’s the hormones,” she said, turning so she could look directly into his soft blue eyes. “But I want you all the time.”

“Well, Simon said we can carry on right up until the last week or so,” Mal said consideringly. “So I suppose we could.”

She smiled at him, feeling his erect penis against her stomach. “Until you can’t reach me, you mean.”

“Oh, we’ll figure out some way,” he said, leading her to the bunk so she could lie down, her legs wide, inviting him into her. As he slid deeply inside her, his belly resting on hers, he thanked whatever might be out in the black for his good fortune, and her persistence, at finding Freya.

---

THIRD TRIMESTER

Mal had gone to bed later than normal, the whole crew having been talking longer than they realised. Freya, complaining about her back aching, had slipped away some time before and gone to their temporary quarters, and as he undressed he watched her sleeping, lying on her side, facing him, the blankets pushed down so he could see she had one arm supporting the increasing swell of her belly. There was something both erotic and innocent about the sight.

He carefully climbed up the end of the bed and lay between his wife and the bulkhead. For a week or so now she’d been having to get up in the night more frequently to pee, and she hated having to disturb him, so they’d changed positions so she slept on the outside instead of him. It had taken a while to get used to.

She rolled over, her belly leaning against him.

“Hey, little one,” he said softly, laying a protective hand gently on her stomach. “Been a good day today.” He stroked the skin tenderly. “Got paid, and managed to get that part for Kaylee. She was so happy I thought she was gonna bust. Kissed me. Right there, in front of everyone.” He smiled. “Thought Simon might decide to try and deck me, but he just gave me that look. Don’t worry, you’ll get used to it. I had to.” He put his head down on the pillow, feeling Freya’s breath move his hair. “They’re all gonna be so pleased to meet you. And your momma is gonna love you, like me. And I’ll show you the ‘verse, all the good things still out there, and I’ll teach you how to handle the bad. Or maybe your momma will – she’s a mite better at it than I am.” He dropped his voice to whisper. “Only don’t tell her I said that – don’t want her getting all big-headed on me.”

His hand moved. Not by his own volition. He stopped and stared. There, again.

“He’s kicking,” Freya said.

He looked up into her face, and found her smiling at him.

“I hadn’t …” He shook his head, trying hard not to be less than a man and cry.

“You promised,” she said quietly, putting her hand on his, feeling their son turning somersaults. “You promised me that one day we’d be lying in bed, and you’d feel your child kicking you, and you’d be the happiest man alive.”

He couldn’t help it. A tear rolled down his cheek. “I am,” he admitted.

“Are you always gonna do that? Keep your promises?”

“I promise I’ll always try.” He felt like his heart was in his mouth, and he swallowed.

She smiled tiredly. “Good. Then that’s okay.”

Freya nestled closer and he put his arm around her, pulling her into him, their baby boy between them, and he fell asleep marvelling at the wonders of the ‘verse.

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