To catch up, start with Namesake and follow the links until they bring you back here.

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PART 22: HE BROUGHT HER BACK

Mal leaned on the rail of the top catwalk, watching his boys play hoop ball with the twins. Michael wasn't much for the competition, but he had deadly aim. Mal noticed it in everything the boy did. He finished every pass, made every shot. Jayne had taken him out one day with a pistol and a target, and the boy could shoot the fleas off a dog’s back from 200 yards. Mal had been furious about the venture because Michael was only five and the gun was as big as his head. Cole passed the ball to Genny, but Jamie intercepted and threw a wild shot. Michael caught the rebound and sent the ball straight through the hoop. Inara came up beside Mal, her fingers dancing up his spine before playing with the hair on the back of his neck. Mal grinned and turned his head to see her coy smile and peach satin dress just begging to be touched. Though she still wore her fancy dresses, Inara rarely put on her jewelry since she’d been abducted. He’d seen a few items sneak back in lately. The occasional bracelet, or a fancy barrette. Today it was a necklace and she flinched a little when he reached out to finger it. “You miss her,” she said soulfully, covering the reaction with conversation. Mal folded his hands politely on the railing and allowed her the space she needed. “It's been three weeks. She hasn’t called.” Inara came next to him on the catwalk, leaning so that their shoulders touched. “It's easy to get absorbed in the world around you. She’ll call.” “Back when you were training to be a companion...” It had taken Mal a lot of time to eliminate ‘whore’ from his vocabulary, but he’d done it for her. “Did you call your parents often?” “Not really. There were times I’d go months,” she laughed, but suppressed it when Mal hung his head in disappointment. Her hand was on his in a moment. “Doesn’t mean I forgot them, or stopped loving them, Mal. When it’s your family, that’s just a given.” Mal sighed, turning his palm up to enclose her hand. He traced the naked ring finger on her left hand, their wedding band stolen by Inara’s kidnappers. “I know. It’s just her birthday’s comin’ up.” Inara’s empathetic grin deepened. “I'm sure she'll call when she gets the presents.” Mal nodded and smiled, gripping Inara's hand more tightly and turning to face her. “Speakin’ of presents, I got one for you.” “For me? But it isn’t even my birthday?” “Oh, good, so I’ve eliminated one more day from the list. I can’t believe I been married to you ten years and you still won’t tell me your birthday.” She pressed her palms against his chest mischievously and gave a sweet smile. “You're still a mystery to me,” she countered. “It's only fair.” Mal laughed, reaching for the box in his back pocket, pulling her lips into a kiss so she wouldn’t see. “I think this birthday thing is the least of your mysteries,” he groaned. “And I ain't sure you’re ready for this yet, but maybe you can surprise me.” “Surprise you how, husband?” Oh, his stomach fluttered whenever she called him that. He opened the box for her, revealing a new wedding band, silver swirls embracing an inset diamond. “Will you wear this for me?” Inara took the box and held it, staring dumbfounded at the ring. She was shaking a little, no longer pressed against him. Mal swallowed thickly, his heart sinking. It had been too soon. Inara clenched her left hand into a fist, trembling at the memory of her old ring being swiped off. “I can...” Mal began, but choked, not knowing how to finish. Inara looked at him, a dozen emotions playing across her features making her nigh unreadable. She closed her mouth and handed the box back to him, then stretched out her left hand. “Put it on for me?” she asked meekly, her voice tense with fear and determination. Mal felt shakier than the day he first proposed, but with a nervous smile, he knelt on one knee, took the ring from the box, and slid it onto her finger. The breath that shuddered through her rocked her as deeply as the most intimate touch. Mal stood and hugged her tight, feeling her melt in his arms as though, after all this time, she finally felt safe again. Slowly, but surely, his angel was coming back.

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PART 23: HE ENCOURAGED

Mal stared out at the black, his finger on the call button, debating whether or not to send the wave. A plastic brachiosaur taunted him from the top of the console, nibbling on a fake palm tree. The brachiosaur had always been Zoë’s favorite and River had pulled it from whatever drawer it had been hiding in and placed it on the console to mock him. Or remind him. Impulsively, he hit the call button, and was glad when Little Zoë answered, switching on the vid. She backed away from the screen, settling on the corner of her bed, looking pensive. “Hey, darlin’, why so glum?” Zoë wiped her eyes, even though there were no tears in them, and forced a smile. “Hey, Baba, just... thinkin’.” “Classes goin’ okay?” Zoë shrugged and looked sideways, then at her hands. “I was thinking about Aunt River.” She hesitated, but Mal waited out the silence, seeing the trouble on her face. “Do you think ... the people that did that to her... do you think they thought they were helping?” Mal inhaled slowly, wishing he could ask what brought this up. But Zoë needed him to be straight forward. She needed an answer. Any stalling on his part would make her feel guilty just for asking, and she had a right to ask. “They knew they weren’t helpin’ her any. But it’s possible they thought they were doin’ it to help others.” “Possible,” she acknowledged, still looking at her hands, her feet kicking the air. “I don't know how they can do it. They can see a hundred faces of all the people they might be helpin’ and all I can see is Aunt River and …” “Maybe it's easier because they don’t know River the way you do.” Zoë nodded, her eyes trailing the border of the vid. “It’s different when it’s family.” Mal didn't know if he should force a comforting smile, because she didn’t seem to be watching him anyway. “They treatin’ you all right, Little One?” “Oh, yes. My host family’s really nice,” Zoë beamed, her mood swinging faster than a whacked piñata. She swung her legs around on the bed, propping herself up by her elbows, and with a sigh and a smile, showed herself ready to be social. “They made me a cake for my birthday!” Mal relaxed a little and smiled. “That was nice of ‘em.” “And you’ll never believe this! I got kicked out of the Mock Trial club last week! How can anyone make a fair judgment if you ain’t allowed to ask questions?! That kid lawyer was leadin’ us around by the nose and I was the only one seemed to care!” “They were probably surprised to hear you talkin’ so much, you bein’ such a quiet soul,” Mal teased, enjoying the sound of her voice. “Teacher said if it had been real life, I’d have been held in contempt. I tell you, I got a lot of contempt for the court system right now.” “Seems doin’ right just ain’t good enough anymore,” Mal agreed. Zoë giggled and covered her mouth, remembering, and it warmed Mal’s heart. “Is anyone else around, Baba?” “No, darlin’, our days are a bit off from yours right now. It’s the middle of the night for us.” Zoë sighed, disappointed. “Oh, well. Tell ‘em I love ‘em, then. I’m off to supper. I miss you, Baba.” “I miss you, too.” She blew him a kiss across the vid, then signed off. Mal stared at the blank screen for a moment, savoring the memory of having her close. How he longed to share her world with her and talk to her every day. Not just because she was his little girl, but because she was starting to get awfully interesting.

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PART 24: HE KEPT HER SECRET

Mal didn’t appreciate being called in from a job to bail Zoë out of trouble. It wasn’t her that called him, it was the school, saying she’d violated some contract and could no longer participate in the program. Weren’t no cause to treat her like a criminal. The school’s administrative office felt too polished for his dusty attire and he brushed himself off, but held his head high. He saw Zoë sitting stiffly in the waiting area, chin level, eyes firmly forward, looking militant. She always wore her momma’s vest when she felt militant. When he came through the tinted glass doors, she turned and met his eye squarely with an expressionless look. It was amazing how many words that single look carried. It wasn’t the affected eye-roll of someone who didn’t care she was in trouble. Nor was it the humiliated head duck of someone who knew she’d done wrong. It wasn’t the defiant plea of the falsely accused. Whatever she’d done, she’d done purposefully and knowingly and she was convinced she was right to do it. Mal needed no other words to set the tone of his defense. He had her back, but given she’d already been expelled, there would be no cause for making a show. The program director conferred with Mal for twenty minutes about the importance of the contracts, confidentiality, and ethics. Zoë and Mal both sat quietly through the tirade, Mal nodding occasionally, waiting impatiently for it to end. When the woman mentioned that hundreds of people could now die because of what Zoë did, Mal raised an eye and looked over at her. Little Zoë stared firmly at the back wall, her face fixed with resolution. Mal was itching to hear her side of this story. When at last the director finished, she humbly requested that they not disclose the details of this incident with anyone and had prepared a confidentiality agreement that she slid across the table. Before Mal could take the paper and shred it kindly, Zoë reached across the table and slid it back to the woman, unsigned. “His word’s as good as mine,” she said simply. The director looked uncertainly at Mal who just raised his eyebrows and gave a shrug of feigned helplessness. Deciding to make his own cue, Mal stood and motioned for Zoë to come with him, apologizing insincerely to the director. Zoë walked stiffly, picking up her already packed gear from the corner and headed out. Once in the open air, Mal offered to carry her gear, but she declined, her eyes not meeting his. “Wanna tell me what really happened?” he probed. She sighed and were it not for his years of knowing her momma, he wouldn’t have seen the battle weariness in her eyes. “You remember that man I told you about last week?” “The one they were stealin’ body parts from?” “Tissues,” she corrected. “I went back and talked to him. Told him the truth. Figured he deserved to know he wasn’t sick. Deserved to know he was helpin’ people. Guess I thought he'd be happier to come to the hospital knowin’ he was helpin’.” “It’s his choice, Zo. You can’t control that.” “Since he already thought he was sick, it would’ve been so easy for them to lie. To start takin’ so much it made him sick again, and he wouldn’t’ve know the difference. I kept thinkin’ of Aunt River and …,” Zoë trailed off, her chin dropping sadly. “He had a right to know.” Mal put his hand proudly on her shoulder and she finally met his eye. “You made a good choice, Little Zoë.” She pressed her thin lips together so tightly they disappeared – it was Wash’s traditional look of unhappy resignation. Mal fiddled with the tiny braids in her hair and decided to switch topics. “How’s the boyfriend?” “We broke up. He sided with them, said I was wrong to do what I did.” Zoë shifted her gear to the other shoulder, her face sinking into a frustrated brood. “Why would anyone make you sign a paper that legally binds you to do something you know is wrong?” “Law is funny like that.” “They’ll go after that man,” she informed matter-of-factly. “He signed a contract and didn’t even know it. They’ll be after him.” “You mean they ain’t already?” Zoë shrugged, noncommittally. “Zo, did you help him escape?” “Didn’t have to.” She said it so easily that even Mal believed her. He knew, somewhere in the dark recourse of his gut, that Zoë had helped the man escape, but Mal wasn’t about to press the issue. Secrets like that are best left unspoken.

*~* * * When to Keep Silent