“Oh, hell no.” Jayne crossed his arms for emphasis.

Mal was almost, but not quite, reduced to begging, seeing as the whole direct-order business had not gone over well.

“Jayne, it’ll be easy-peasy. Badger’s got the goods, you go get them, and bring them back here.”

Jayne scratched his chin thoughtfully for a moment.

“So lemme see. You want me to go get the goods to fix the problem that you created?”

“Pretty much.”

“Nope. Still hell no.”

And with that, he set himself down on the weight bench with an air of finality and began his chest presses.

Zoe had been watching the exchange from the doorway. She wandered on over to Mal, who was staring daggers at Jayne.

“No luck convincing him, sir?”

“Not even with my direct-order voice. My direct-order voice has always worked.”

“Much as I hate to give Jayne credit for any sort of higher-order thinking, I think he’s got the right of this one, sir. It is your…errrmmm…situation.”

“Suppose you’re right, Zoe. Was my doin’ got us into this mess. Might as well pay the piper.”

Which was how Mal found himself face to face with Badger’s shit-eating grin. Mal had to clench his fists so as not to punch that grin right off his face. Badger, for his part, was enjoying every second of Mal’s discomfort. He ran his finger along the goods.

“There’s only one reason, Captain, why a man would be lookin’ for these sorts of goods. Seems to me, ye got yerself quite the problem. And seein’ as I appear to have the answer to that problem, I might as well use that to my advantage. Price just went up to three large.”

Mal tried even harder not to just lay Badger out cold and run with the goods. Unfortunately, Badger’s goon squad, with guns trained on Mal, pretty much short-stopped that notion.

“Three…? But you said two-fifty.”

That wasn’t too whingey, was it?

Badger leaned back in his desk chair, which let out a groan of protest.

“Market value, my friend. And I guarantee you won’t find anyone else on this end of the Outer Rim who’s got these goods. So you, Captain, have got yourself one bugger of a dilemma. Either pay my asking price, or hope you can survive without ‘em. Myself, I wouldn’t be bettin’ that three large on the latter outcome.”

Mal’s shoulders slumped in defeat. Much has he hated to admit it, Badger was right. He needed those goods something fierce. With a heavy sigh, he counted out the bills, which rapidly disappeared into Badger’s desk.

“Ta, Captain. Always a pleasure. Oh, and do let me know how that little situation resolves itself.”

“Pleasure’s all yours, Badger.”

With that, Mal bundled up the goods and quickly made his way back to his boat, which he hoped had not been completely torn to shreds in the meantime.

The things I’ll do for her…

Zoe and Jayne were waiting inside the cargo bay. The sound that had started the whole mess had gotten worse over the last hour. Jayne was grumpier than usual.

“Jesus, Mal, what the hell took ya so long? Racket’s about to drive me into the bughouse alongside the moonbrain.”

Mal studiously ignored him. Zoe delicately raised one eyebrow in Mal’s direction.

“Kaylee’s givin’ it her best, sir, but it just ain’t enough.”

At that precise moment, Kaylee could be heard to call out from above, “Cap’n, that you? Please tell me ya got the goods. I can’t keep her together much longer!”

Noting the increasing desperation in Kaylee’s voice, and Jayne’s increasing desire to deal with the problem in his own brutally efficient Jayne-like manner, Mal practically vaulted up the stairs to the catwalk.

“Tell her I’m on my way, Kaylee!”

He skidded to a halt next to Kaylee, who indicated the source of the problem. She had to yell over the din.

“There, ya see. Ain’t nothin’ I can fix. It’s up to you, Cap’n.”

Mal took a deep breath, squared his shoulders and faced it head-on.

Fortunately, he ducked just in time, as yet another piece of crockery came sailing at his head. When he finally felt safe enough to uncover his face again, he was staring down the most fearsome sight known to man – an eight-and-a-half-month-pregnant woman.

With massive hormonal rages and cravings.

Sonofabitch. She still don’t throw like a girl.

Inara, for her part, upon realizing she had almost decapitated him, sank back down on the couch in an ungainly heap and started to bawl her eyes out, something about “fat as a cow” and it all being Mal’s fault.

Mal held up the bag of goods.

“Got a peace offerin’ for ya.”

She finally settled down long enough to look at him with puffy eyes and a red nose. Mal thought she had never looked more beautiful.

“You went and got…for me?”

“Well, it was either that or risk coming back to only half my ship left. Hell, you had Jayne curled up in a fetal ball, talkin’ to himself. Made River look sane by comparison.”

With that, he carefully unpacked a small bottle of chocolate syrup, a carton of vanilla ice cream and a jar of pickles, and set them out on her low table.

“What the mama-to-be wants, the mama-to-be gets.”

“This must have cost you a fortune, Mal.”

“Market value, darlin’.”