A.N. – The texture of these narrations is a bit different, so let me know if you still like it.

PART 7: HE WORKED

Mal balanced and reclined as best he could in the stiff hospital chair, Little Zoë asleep on his lap. The color had returned to her face, but her shoulders still slumped, having carried more weight in the past three months than any five-year-old should ever be asked to carry. Thanks to Simon’s top-three-percent medical expertise and his connections to core physicians, Little Zoë had received cutting edge treatment and was recovering quickly. The only reason they were still in the hospital was that Serenity was not clean enough for her weakened immune system. It broke his heart that the home he had provided, the ship he loved, was not safe for his little girl. Mal rocked Little Zoë in his arms, enveloped in her recovery, giving only the vaguest attention to Jayne as he spoke. Jayne had come in a half hour ago, looking unbalanced with all his weapons concealed (as hospitals weren’t prone to allowing heavily armed mercenaries roam the corridors) and begun his speech with his lifelong mantra. “Mal, we need coin.” It was about there that Mal had stopped listening. The need for income was just one more plague on his existence. Hospital bills, port taxes, food. Even if he sold his boat, that would only buy a few more days planet-side. He didn’t even want to dwell on the new mouth he’d be feeding in eight months time... Well, maybe he could dwell on his and Inara’s coming baby for a moment. Erase all the fear, insecurity, and poverty, and hold on to the promise of happiness. “We can’t wait much more.” Jayne’s voice cut through the promise with his own take on reality. Mal shifted the sleeping Zoë so she wouldn’t put his whole left arm out, and he thought of his crew. They hovered in his memory, separated from the current situation by a lifetime and then some. He needed to disband and let them go their own way. They all wanted to stay together, Mal knew; and if he didn’t Jayne was here to remind him. “Mal, you can’t afford to set here and do nothin’. You gotta provide for your family.” Mal shuddered a breath, keeping his gaze firmly out the window away from Jayne. Away from hospital bills and port taxes and thoughts of disbanding the crew. Away to the farthest reaches of the Black where he wouldn’t be hounded by governments or waiting for angels that never came. Away to where he was responsible to no one and for no one. Away. Zoë coughed in her sleep, forcing Mal back into the hospital room and Jayne’s gou cao de reality check. But Jayne wasn’t talking about problems anymore. “You ain’t alone in this, Mal. You got options,” he assured, and Mal listened through slightly less fog. “I got a contact about a job. Good take, given Serenity’s reputation. If you can’t fathom leaving this world, rent the ship out to me, I’ll take the crew, and we’ll get the job done. Two weeks, three tops, you got yourself a decent paycheck. If you wanna come along … well, then I don’t need to go hire a second gun hand.” Jayne paused and Mal looked at him carefully. How bizarre was this man before him. It hadn’t been the shallow plea for money and ultimatum he’d expected. When had this stranger surfaced? Jayne organizing a job? Jayne leading the crew? In truth, Jayne had started picking up the role of first mate from the moment Zoë died. There had been no maneuvering for authority or talk of the chain of command. He’d just done it. As Mal had mourned and adjusted to being a full time parent, Jayne had taken the task of assigning chores and watch duty. Where once was a man who had promised imminent betrayal on more than one occasion, Mal now saw a friend. A brother, even. When had that occurred? “Just think about it, Mal,” Jayne reiterated, reaching out and touching Little Zoë’s cheek. The girl stirred softly, twisting about to give Mal a kiss on the cheek as she stretched. “Hey, Uncle Jayne.” “Hey, baby girl.” And there was Mal’s answer in Jayne’s eyes. When Little Zoë called him ‘Uncle’, he saw in Jayne the same swell of joy he felt every time she called him ‘Baba.’ Since Miranda, they’d been friends. Since Zoë, they’d been family. Little Zoë crawled from Mal’s lap into Jayne’s, leaving him cold. “Uncle Jayne, can you fly me?” Mal tensed. He always hated it when Jayne bench-pressed Zoë. Jayne had only dropped her the one time and while Zoë was forgiving, Mal was wary. “I don’t know,” Jayne teased, turning her in his hands like a salt shaker, making her giggle. “You’re getting mighty big.” “Please, Uncle Jayne.” With a mock grunt, Jayne hefted her over his head, swaying her easily from side-to-side. Mal fought the urge to hold out a hand and help and just watched as Zoë squealed in delight. “Did I ever tell you about the time your daddy pulled a Crazy Ivan to escape the Reavers?” And that’s why Mal never stopped this particular game. Zoë always laughed and listened eagerly to the tales Jayne told and the girl deserved to hear about her father. As the story progressed and Zoë continued to fly over Jayne’s head, Mal noted that she wasn’t in any pain, nor was she out-of-breath. Her healing was sure. She wasn’t going to die tonight or any time soon. It was okay for him to leave this world. To work. To provide for her like he should. When the story finally ended, Mal nudged Jayne’s shoulder. “When is this meet again?” “Three hours. If you take point, I can stand there an’ look intimidating.” Mal smiled lightly. “You’ve always been good at that.”

*~*

PART 8: HE FELL OUT OF HIS CHAIR

Mal was surprised to get a wave from Inara so soon after finishing a job and immediately worried that something was wrong. He hated leaving his six-and-a-half month pregnant wife on a planet a good million miles away. Serenity was half a day ahead of schedule, but still five days out. His tension melted somewhat when he saw Little Zoë staring at him through the vid, moon-eyed as though she’d just been punished. He put on his stern father face, ready to berate her for sending a wave without permission. “Hey, Little Zoë,” he greeted neutrally, nursing a cup of coffee. The job was done; he may as well chat a little and chastise himself for going soft. “Baba, can I walk to the store and buy some peanut butter?” Terse. Straight to business, just like her momma. Mal rolled his eyes, accustomed to Little Zoë’s authority evasion techniques. “What does Mama ‘Nara say?” Zoë shifted uncomfortably and looked at her hands. “She said not to call you.” “So why are you callin’ me, Zo?” “Because I’m hungry,” the little girl whined. “And I don’t know how to make nothin’ else.” “I bet if you ask real nice, Mama ‘Nara will make you somethin’.” “She isn’t here, Baba,” Zoë carped, condescendingly. “She’s at the hospital having her baby.” Heart! Stop! What?!!! Mal spit his drink at the screen and fell out of his chair, his mind reeling, his blood pumping so hard it felt ready to burst through his skin. Coughing to clear the half-swallowed drink from his lung, he climbed back into the seat and wiped the vid-screen with his sleeve. “Baba?” She spoke with the same stoic calm as her mother had in such panic-worthy situations. “I’m here, Zo,” he gagged. “Can I go?” “Zo, when did Mama ‘Nara leave for the hospital?” Blood pounded through his ears, muffling her response; his hands frantically flew over the console trying to connect with the hospital on a second line. Zoë shrugged, nonplussed. “I dunno. Before we ran out of peanut butter.” “How many sandwiches ago?” Zoë sighed and counted impatiently on her fingers. “Four. Two with bananas, but we ran out of those, too. Baba, I’m hungry.” “I know ya are, Little One, and I promise to get you food as soon as I can, but first you need to tell me what happened to Mama ‘Nara.” “She’ll be mad because I called before your job finished.” “My job is done now, Zo, you can tell me.” “She was screamin’ and bleedin’ and I called the doctor and they took her in an ambulance.” Ambulance! Mal gave up on the hospital switchboard and checked his bank account, figuring he could trace Inara faster through hospital charges. With one hand, he called up Simon to interpret the medical jargon. “And you got left?” Mal prompted. “I locked the door behind ‘em, Baba. They never knowed I was here.” Mal whimpered a pained laugh. It occurred to him that Little Zoë had hidden from far too many sinister, evil lawmen and he needed to have a talk with her about trust. Later. Now he needed to focus. Get Simon up here to interpret the medical charges. Find status of Inara and baby. Find someone to check in on Little Zoë. Hard burn! His mind was a blur wondering what might be happening to Inara to make her leave Zoë behind like that. “Baba, did I do something bad?” “No, darlin’, you did everything just right. You sit tight and I’ll get someone over there as soon as I can.” “Can it be Nurse Rhinehart?” Zoë asked, her eyes lighting up. Mal let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. The request relieved him because as of that moment his mind was racing too fast to think of individual names. “I’ll try her first,” he assured, a comforting smile masking his panic. Where was Simon? “Wo ai ni, Baba.” “I love you too, Little Zoë.”

*~*

PART 9: HE CAME RUNNING

Little Zoë had been missing for three days. Mal nearly fainted when he heard the news. He’d just run from the hospital ward where Inara was still recovering to the NICU where his unnamed son was sleeping and was hoping to find a sweet, little smile in the children’s ward where Nurse Rhinehart had promised to keep Little Zoë while she worked. “I’ve looked all over, I called the police, I tried to contact you over and over,” the young nurse gushed frantically. “I don’t know why she’d just run off like that.” “Did you say something to her? About ‘Nara? About the baby? About… the declining sales of peanut butter on the eastern continent?” Mal demanded as he scanned the ward for signs of his little girl. But Little Zoë had spent a fair part of the last year here and knew all the dark pockets. He knew he wouldn’t just spot her. “We went to visit Mrs. Reynolds that day, she was a little quiet after. But she’s always so terse.” The nurse was near tears at having to explain the story again, reliving the fear. “Security has her picture, but no one has seen her.” “Girl knows how to hide,” Mal commented, trying to stay calm, giving the nurse a forgiving pat on the shoulder. She had to still be here; otherwise she would’ve called him again and asked permission to leave. “Zoë!” he shouted, striding through the corridors determinedly. “We tried that,” the nurse cried, rushing behind him to keep up. He yelled her name again. Pausing beside a cart toting food trays, Mal sniffed and considered the hot lunches that were currently being distributed. “Any of these go missin’ today?” The nurse shrugged, tearfully. “I’m not sure. We—” “Shhh!” Mal hushed, crouching to listen. One of the ceiling tiles half way down the hall shifted minutely. Mal reached up and punched out the tile next to it. “Zoë?” The tiles shifted again and Zoë’s caramel face peaked out, her hair covered with dust and lint, her face stained with dried up tears. She held a stolen food tray in one hand and crumbs of bread stuck to the corners of her mouth. She put one finger to her thin, little lips, warning Mal to be quiet. “It’s safe to come down now. I’m here,” he assured, reaching up his arms. Cautiously, she peaked over the edge of the ceiling and on seeing only the crying nurse and Mal, handed down her food tray first. Mal reached out his arms and let her fall into them. “What were ya doin’ up there?” he asked, rocking her slowly as she clung to him, curling in a ball. “The doctor said he was gonna call child services and they were gonna get me out of his hair.” “Which doctor said that?” “Baba, he didn’t even have hair,” she complained. He tried unsuccessfully to brush the lint off of her with his fingers, but finally gave up. “Well I got you now, and you ain’t going nowhere.” She nodded tiredly and sneezed as the dust swirled around her head. Serenity was definitely cleaner than this. If she was well enough to hide in the ceiling tiles, they’d be spaceborn again soon. “How about we visit your little brother?” “Cole.” “What’s that?” Mal asked, wondering if it was a yes or no. “I named him Cole. Because he has dark hair like Mama ‘Nara.”

*~*

The Saga continues with: His Angel