Disclaimer: They're all Whedon's.

Author's Note: I've never done anything but one-shots before, so this is new and different for me. Hope it's a diverting few minutes of reading.

In the golden hours of the morning, sleep leaves Andie like mist burning off the ground. Someone has turned the lights off and carefully tucked a blanket around her. There's a canvas handbag stitched with daises hanging on one bedpost. Mama. Andie wanders down the hall hesitantly, not bothering to tame the wild weight of her brown hair. Let it mat. And to hell with smudged eyeliner, too. Raccoons are cute. She’s passing her parents’ room when she hears her mother’s voice, tired and sad. “It’s like the old days, huh? Sittin’ around worrying about the captain, worryin’ about the Feds, and washing blood out of the laundry.” “Fond memories,” Daddy says. Andie’s rarely heard him so snide. “You’re angry.” “He took her to a bar, Kaylee.” “He was meeting Monty,” Mama says, placating. “It was just the Boot, not some beer and brothel joint.” “Someone shot at her. On his watch.” Pressed against the wall, Andie flinches. “Someone held a gun in her face.” “And what did Mal do about it, Simon?” Mama says, a challenge in her tone. “As near as I can tell, with his trademark brilliance and cunning, he killed a man and risked bringing the Alliance back down on us all.” “Ai ya, Simon, what was he supposed to have done?” “Maybe left her at the ranch while he attended his Lowlife Convention!” Andie doesn’t want to hear any more. She pads downstairs in her sock feet, through the empty waiting room, and back to the infirmary. "Mornin', mollymawk," Mal says, propped up in one of the two beds down here and grey under the flood of sunlight from the window. He gives her a grimace likely intended as a smile. Daddy’s apprentice, Becky, is standing next to him, filling a syringe with something clear and creepy-looking. "Good mornin'," Andie says, still clinging to the doorjamb. Becky nods without looking at her. "You--you feelin' okay, Uncle Mal?" "I'm gonna live, yeah." The assurance is too slow and languorous. He's doped to his eyes, Andie figures. She wanders to his side and pulls up the same stool she sat on for so many hours last night. Across the way, Becky gives her a glance that says, please don’t disturb the patient. Chastened, Andie cuts to the chase. “I’m sorry,” she tells Uncle Mal. “The hell for?” he slurs. For being useless and cowardly and getting you shot? Andie opens her mouth, but words don’t come. This is getting to be a familiar phenomenon. “Mr. Reynolds, would you straighten your arm for me, please?” Becky says, syringe at the ready. Mal sighs and complies. “’M having some trouble stayin’ awake here,” he mutters, eyes fluttering open and closed. “You go back to sleep,” Andie says. “No reason not to.” And she wanders upstairs again, feeling pathetic. Mama’s at the kitchen counter with a big bowl and a mixer, her mouth set in a thin line and her eyes red-rimmed. The smile she directs at Andie is troubled. Mama can achieve such an oxymoron as a troubled smile--she's got so many of them, is all. “Hey, baby,” she says. “You want pancakes?” Not really. “Yes, please.” She watches her mother pour the batter into a waiting frying pan. “Mal’s asleep again.” “Good,” Mama says brusquely, poking a bubbling puddle of batter with her spatula. “He needs it.” “You aren’t mad at him too, are you?” Mama glances up with the same guilty face she always makes when Andie catches her and Daddy fighting. Maybe she can tell how much this bothers Andie, because she abandons the stovetop to hug her daughter. “He stepped in front of you, honey. How can I be mad?” “It wasn’t his fault,” Andie tells the crook of her mother’s elbow. “He pretended not to know me—which was right creepy, by the way—so that guy would leave me be. Was me drew his attention.” “I know you aren’t feeling guilty yourself,” Mama says sternly. “Just—it wasn’t his fault.” Mama smiles. “I’ll tell your daddy.” “Good morning,” a tired voice says from the doorway. Aunt ‘Nara glides in barefoot, mustering a wan smile. “Pancakes?” Mama says. “No, thank you. I was looking for another decongestant for Ben.” “He’s awake?” Andie says. “Yes. He ran a fever last night, so…” Inara waves an arm vaguely, apparently uninterested in finishing her sentence. “Infirmary cabinet over the sink. Middle shelf,” Andie says. She’s fairly certain that Aunt ‘Nara knows this, and that really she just wants a reason to be back in the infirmary for a minute or two. “Thank you.” “She okay?” Andie asks her mama when the tail end of Aunt ‘Nara’s wrap has disappeared down the stairs. “She’s just tired. She and Zoe took turns staying up with the captain, keeping an eye on the monitors.” “Did the bedside vigil thing?” Mama smiles halfheartedly and shakes her head. “They’ve both got some practice in that area.” For a moment Andie sits, pinned down by something that might be annoyance but is probably closer to impatience. She’s had enough hint-hinting and nudge-nudging and oh, weren’t we such badasses back in the day. “Mama. How gorram often did Mal used to get shot, huh?” Mama tries to parry with a “Language, Andie!” but Andie will have none of it. “It’s like some kind of big in-joke or something. ‘Aw, hell, captain’s hurt again. Well, ain’t like that’s never happened before…’ And then when I ask a reasonable question—“ “Three times,” Mama says, glaring. At Andie’s stricken look, she softens and says, “Three times in the seven years I sailed with Serenity. And that’s when he wasn’t getting stabbed or beat up on or…” She trails off and flips a pancake, blinking profusely. There’s a long pause. “Jesus, Mama,” Andie says weakly. “What were you guys doin’?” “Crime, generally.” “I thought it was just small-time smuggling.” “Mostly, yeah.” “But—“ “The Rim’s a rough place, baby. And when you’re on the wrong side of the law—well, you make your own law. Sometimes people do it with guns.” Andie chews on that for a while, watching one of the pancakes turn black on the bottom. (Mama tends to forget the one farthest away from her.) Eventually she works up the courage to ask, “You ever been shot, Mama?” Mama stiffens. “Once, years and years ago.” “God.” A pancake flips over all golden, and suddenly Mama smiles at Andie with mischief in her eyes. “You wanna see the scar?” “Um.” But Mama’s already rolling up her shirt in front and pointing at a small silvery knot of a thing on her tummy. “Right there.” Andie leans closer to see. “It’s little.” “It’s good work. Your daddy did it.” “Shot you?” Andie says, startled. Mama laughs a good long time at that one, while Andie’s face turns redder and redder. “No, silly. He sewed me up.” “Well, who did shoot you?” “Federal marshal. He got jumpy around the captain and Simon, and I walked in at the wrong time.” “What happened to him? Lost his badge? Jail time?” “Somethin’ like that.” Andie sighs. “You aren’t tellin’ me everything.” Her Mama smiles back, just as devil-may-care as can be, and starts stacking a plate high with steaming pancakes. “No, babe, I’m not. Might be you’ll find out one day, but this ain’t the time to be thinking on what’s past.” “Or,” Andie grumbles, “it’s exactly the time to be thinking about what’s past. Seeing as it’s named Bertani and it’s breathing down our necks.” “Kaylee, is that coffee I smell?” Daddy comes in, bleary-eyed and still in his clothes from yesterday. “Go back to bed. Becky’s lookin’ after your patient,” Mama says. Daddy squints a bit, then digs in both pockets for his glasses. “You sure?” “Yeah, she’s downstairs,” Andie says. “I just saw her.” “Then she can have him for a few hours,” Daddy says, arranging his glasses on his nose and going for the pancake platter. “He can torment her instead.” “What do you mean?” Mama says. Daddy adopts a broody expression and growls, “Ai ya, that hurts, doc. Is that needle strictly necessary? Watch it with the pointy thing, gorrammit. Grr, I’m an intimidating war veteran.” Andie nearly giggles. “He’s just asked Becky what kind of rutting sadist she is.” It’s Aunt ‘Nara again, passing through on her way up to Ben. Zoe follows close behind her. “It’s the drugs talking. Or so I keep telling myself.” “This,” Zoe says with a sigh, “is why we didn’t trouble Culloden General’s emergency room with him.” “Coffee or tea for either of you?” Mama offers. Inara shakes her head, and her mane of black and silver curls sways loose around her face. A pretty lady, Andie thinks, even with deep shadows under her eyes. “I’m going to bed. Call me if there’s another thrilling crisis.” “Wake me sometime before noon,” Zoe tells Daddy, who nods over his mug. “Mrs. Reynolds!” Becky’s voice echoes up the stairs, closely followed by her running footsteps. Everyone is on their feet in a moment, and Daddy is halfway to the door before Becky appears. “What’s wrong?” half the kitchen demands. “Oh,” Becky says. She shakes her head, setting her dark ponytail swinging. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to frighten everyone. It’s just—Mrs. Reynolds, he’s asking for you.” Five people start breathing again, and Inara crosses to Becky. Andie takes the bottle of Ben’s pills from her as she passes. “I’ll bring ‘em.” “Thanks, darling. He’s asleep in Mariel’s room.” The kitchen empties quickly, and Andie swipes two satsumas and slips away to the back of the house. She cracks the door to Mariel’s room and pokes her nose in. The kittiwake is on her belly on the floor, straining to touch her toes to the back of her head. Buried among pillows on her bed, Ben is watching sleepily. “You’ll get stuck like that if you ain’t careful,” he says. “I will not.” Mariel’s voice spends most of its time indignant these days. It’s what comes with training bras and sparkly hair ties. “It happened to one of my mother’s students, I swear. Can’t unfreeze her muscles. She gets around okay, though. Rolls around like a lopsided wheel.” “You’re such a liar, Ben.” “That so? Prove me wrong.” “I wouldn’t try that one,” Andie says. She shuts the door behind her and prods at Ben. He doesn’t make room, so she sits on his feet. “Our dad’s a doctor. She’ll run downstairs and be back with an I-told-you-so before you can blink.” Ben smiles, then gives Mariel a wary look. “You sure you want to hold that pose, little bit?” Mariel uncurls and chews her bottom lip. Then she jumps up and runs out of the room. “Daddy? Daddy!” “Now you’ve done it,” Andie says. She presses a satsuma and a pill into Ben’s palm. He stares at them like he’s never seen anything of the kind in his life. “The hell are these for?” “As a general rule, you eat them. Watch the peel.” “Smart-ass,” Ben says, not without affection. “Vitamin C helps a cold.” Ben shrugs and downs the pill dry. “That’s nice.” He sets the satsuma on Mariel’s bedside table. “Mama and I had a good chat this morning.” “Oh, yeah? What about?” “Her dark, dangerous smuggling past.” Ben rolls onto his back and regards her with interest. “This I gotta hear." Andie giggles and starts talking.