A.N. This is what happens when you leave me vague comments like “I *heart* pregnancy fic!” (That’s you, EmpireX!) But I hope y’all enjoy my warped little world. Thanks to BEB for the last bit of warping and tweaking. And to AgentOmega and kacidilla for beta-ing.

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Alessandra was crying again. Mal moved quickly, hoping to quiet her before Inara woke up. Inara had been sick all week. Inara, Kaylee, Simon, Jayne… even he was starting to feel a little under the weather. But then, it might have just been lack of sleep from trying to pick up the slack for everyone else. It was more than a cold traveling around the boat, but Simon had run out of both drugs and ideas, and so they were heading for ground to re-supply. It would still take a day before they had new medicine. Carefully, Mal lifted his baby girl out of the bassinette and carried her to the changing table, hoping a decent swaddle would quiet her. She had come into the world just five weeks ago with a solid mass of silky black hair and olive skin, looking so much like her mother that he could easily believe she had no father. The baby let loose a shrill wail which Mal failed to muffle in his shoulder. The sound was echoed by a groan from Inara as she rolled onto her side. Mal rocked the baby against his shoulder, and carefully crossed the room to Inara, stroking her hair away from her face, pushing her gently back to the bed when she tried to sit up. “Go back to sleep, ‘Nara, I got her,” Mal whispered. Alessandra quieted just long enough for him to believe his gentle words had served dual purpose. Inara opened her eyes, fighting exhaustion, and considered him uncertainly. She hadn’t slept in days – as much due to being sick as to being a new mother. With a nod, Mal gave her permission to rest again while he tended to the crying infant. If it weren’t the first time Inara had slept in days, Mal would have handed the baby over eagerly, because the frustration and stress of a constantly crying child were getting to him and rubbing him raw. He’d spent most of his life not wanting children. Never considered having any. It wasn’t until Inara had made that comment that he started thinking. “I wish you hundreds of fat children.” She’d said it snippily because she was angry about him getting hitched to Saffron. But as soon as she said it, he imagined the whole cargo hold full of little critters running around, playing, and chasing each other like River and Kaylee always did. At first, it was an amorphous sea of children, having no true parent or face. But as time went by, the number of children in the vision diminished, and the face of their mother became clear as day. Of course in that perfect little vision, the children were completely happy, compliant, and under control. In her first month of life, since she came screaming into the world, little Alessandra had proven herself stubborn, unruly, and a career crier. Mal cooed softly in her ear as she stopped wailing to suck in some air. He called her Ally. He was the only one. Inara hated it, but he couldn’t help the smile that lit inside him every time he said his baby girl’s name. She fit into the palm of his hand, more natural than his own pistol. Mal kissed the top of her head and whispered her name, but still she cried. His nerves were frayed, his body weary, and he was pretty sure he felt the low throb of a headache starting. Still, joy bubbled up in him and showered over Alessandra as he rocked and danced her around the room. After so much waiting! After so much fear, confusion, uncertainty, and grief … she was finally here!

*~*

(before she came)

The deck plates rumbled as Serenity slowed, preparing to land. The ship rocked harshly, and Mal briefly considered letting Kaylee buy that thingamajiggy she’d been harping him about for three worlds now. He planned this to be a longish stop, so now would be a good time to do overhaul work. He crossed the catwalk to Inara’s shuttle and let himself in, even though the door was locked. No doubt she had plans for their week planet-side, but he wanted a more exact timetable so he knew just how long he had to wait before getting himself into a pinch. It surprised him that she hadn’t broken away as soon as they hit atmo. The shuttle was dark except for a few candles flickering just beyond the entrance. It always worried Mal when she kept candles lit during take-off and landing. What with all the curtains and tapestries and such, it struck him as downright foolhardy, but she seemed confident in the candle holders. Still, after witnessing a landing from inside her shuttle one time, he had made sure there was more than one fire extinguisher in the room. Coming around that last curtain, he peaked in to look at her vanity, expecting to find her primping for a client, but she wasn’t sitting there. “’Nara?” he called, looking around the room. He’d just walked the length of the ship, so he knew she couldn’t be anywhere but here. Furrowing his brow, he checked the nooks and crannies of the shuttle, calling her name again, but getting no response. Finally, he pulled back the curtain leading to the shuttle cockpit, and there she was, sitting in the pilot chair, knees pulled to her chest, staring out through the window as the world came into view around them. She wore a red and gold heavy dressing gown, her black curls wild and unruly, and her makeup started subtly and left unfinished. It took Mal a moment to realize she wasn’t blinking all that often and her stare was more vacant than it first seemed. “’Nara?” he asked again, putting a hand on her shoulder. Her eyes became a little less distant, but didn’t return to the present. Not knowing what to do, Mal continued the conversation as he intended. “Don’t you have clients or somethin’ to be getting ready for?” A little less distant again. She turned her ear to the sound of his voice, her head cocking slightly. “’Nara –” “No,” she finally answered. “No clients.” “None today, you mean? ‘Cause I could really use your timetable.” Her eyes met his with stern condescension. “None this world. You can find trouble at your leisure without having to worry about asking me to cut my work short.” Mal’s face scrunched in confusion. “You been begging me for a month to bring you to a world you can work. I finally set down on a civilized rock and you ain’t taking clients?!” “How I conduct my affairs is not your concern.” “It is when I go out of my way to find a world you can conduct affairs on and you set around and do nothing,” Mal retorted angrily. This world had very little to offer in the way of work, but it was a decent rest spot for the crew with virtually no Alliance presence. He’d come here more for Inara than any of the others. She’d been begging him to set down on a decent planet and the past few weeks had become downright despondent. He wanted her back to her normal self and that meant her working. “If I am your reason for being here, then leave,” Inara suggested coolly, her gaze returning to the outside world. Mal felt the engine roll to a stop and heard the high-pitched squeak of the back door opening. There were Captainy things to be done, but Inara’s downhearted spirit irked him and spun up his insides until he could think of nothing but her. He started to turn and drop the curtain, but his feet wouldn’t move. Every time he tried to leave, his eyes kept pulling him back to face her, like a wobbly-headed geisha doll. “You sick?” Mal asked, wondering if he’d be able to tell underneath her half-done make-up job. Inara shook her head, concentrating hard on her knee-caps. “We’re here a week, if you change your mind,” he finally said, his voice strained. When her eyes met his, they were filled with sadness and relief. “Thank you.” Having been dismissed by her words, Mal started toward the door of the shuttle, but he only made it half-way there. This time his feet joined the dance back and forth, toward and away from Inara. He hated the way she complicated things – especially now with the crew grieving. But they were her family too, and he knew he couldn’t just drop her back at that training house to let her mourn alone. It was why she stayed. It was why they had– “Is there something else?” she asked, coming around the curtain, having found some measure of composure that hadn’t been there before. Mal looked at her, struggling with himself, not knowing what to say or do. “Grab your shoes. We’re going for a walk.” “Excuse me?” He was using the wrong voice. He needed to shut down that Captain-like ordering tone and adopt the friendly one he knew she’d respond to. It would be easier to find it if they were already walking about town. They always spoke kinder to each other when they were just taking in the sights. “This world is known for the Harptowne River Walk,” Mal explained. “If you don’t got a client to take you, then come with me. It’s worth the walk.” Inara eyed him cautiously, not moving from her spot by the cockpit. Mal persisted. “You ain’t getting out of this unless you get a signed note from the Doc saying you ain’t fit for walking.” They waited in standoff a moment, and finally Inara moved. She pulled out a pair of flat white sandals which were good for walking. She only wore those with certain outfits where it was near impossible to see the shoe, because they were more functional than decorative. Satisfied, Mal left her to primp for a bit and headed out to take care of other things before the rest of the crew trickled off. “Meet me by the back door when you’re ready,” he smiled.

*~*

They walked a good four miles along the river, talking about anything and everything that came to mind. Something about strolling with Inara in the open air made it so much easier to keep his foot out of his mouth. Perhaps because neither was working nor thinking about work. Her hand grazed his occasionally, but never grabbed hold. He wasn’t even sure if she meant to, but it still sent shivers through him. The sky was an off-color lilac, achieved only on this world. Something about the transmission of light through the atmosphere and extinction. The river reflected the color of the sky. The walk paced the river for nearly a hundred miles, mostly paved, sometimes as a boardwalk. Every half or three-quarters of a mile, piers went out into the river. At the edge of the docks were small machines filled with fish food, turtle food, bird food, and fruit-shaped candy. The side of the footpath opposite the water was lined with trees, park benches, and the occasional hot-dog stand. The area was green, rich, and peaceful – something the Alliance would definitely charge you money to see if they knew the place existed. Inara had changed into a fancy blue and black gown that seemed to hold her upper body in a death grip, compacting her cleavage enticingly. Her necklace looked more like a chandelier than jewelry, and her shoes were expertly concealed by the length of the dress. She looked out distantly, sometimes at the water, sometimes at the sky. There was a wistful sadness about her that none of Mal’s funny stories could break for more than a few minutes at a time. Half way through the fifth mile, Mal stopped walking and directed Inara out to the edge of a pier so they could lean in and look at the fish. It occurred to him that they still had to walk back and he didn’t know how far Inara could go in those shoes. He was sure she wouldn’t complain or nothin’, but he didn’t want her feet hurting if she should decide to take a client later… she needed to find a client. Or something to get her back to her normal self. This moody, forlorn Inara just wouldn’t do. “This place is beautiful,” Inara remarked, staring at the rippling water reflecting the purple sky. She leaned on the railing at the edge of the dock and smiled as Mal bought himself a handful of fish food and started tossing it into the water. “Told ya.” “You did,” she grinned, grazing her fingers against his wrist, squeezing lightly, then taking a pinch of fish-food from his palm and sprinkling it into the water. It was a form of hesitant flirtation he’d become accustomed to recently. He appreciated the hesitance, because he wasn’t necessarily ready to start something with Inara (though they already sorta had); and he appreciated the flirtation, because it was a step beyond the denial stage they were at before. “Nice place to bring a client, I suppose.” Inara looked uncomfortable very briefly, then resumed a professional distance that Mal found unsettling. “I suppose.” His mind was screaming at her. Why won’t you work? Why aren’t you going on with life? Why won’t you do what you need to survive?! She had on her plastic smile and fancy eyelashes, her hair done up like it was a normal day. But Mal knew that if she were truly alright, she’d be out with a client right now, and as much as he hated her job, he hated seeing her like this more. Something had changed. “Shall we head back?” she asked. Mal nodded, dumping the last of the fish food into the river and following her off the dock. Stopping to talk was never good. Too much brain power left over for thinking and complicating. It was always easier if they strolled. He talked a little as they walked, the words not being nearly as important as the peace that hovered between them. His eyes were on the horizon, hers on the ground in front of them. Apparently her thoughts had gone from distant to inward, and she only responded to him occasionally. “You know, as unique as this lilac river is, it’s strange they’d choose to sell the same hot pretzels and turkey legs as every other vender in all the ‘verse.” “Yes, tourism is an industry seriously lacking in originality,” Inara agreed, her eyes very firmly on where her feet walking, her hand on her stomach. “Hey, look there,” Mal grinned, pointing to a stand selling the wobbly-headed geishas he’d helped smuggle in a few months back. Inara lifted her head just slightly, stumbled a step, then fainted right into Mal’s arms. “Whoa-ho,” Mal cried, caught off guard, nearly dropping her. She recovered quickly, albeit woozily and Mal guided her to the nearest bench to sit down. Was her dress too tight? Inara gripped his arm, breathing very intentionally, eyes fixed downward, looking more embarrassed than pained. He kept one arm around her until he was sure she wouldn’t pitch forward off the bench, then stood quickly to buy her something to drink. When he returned, Inara was leaning back on the bench, still looking remarkably upright and proper for such a position. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes closed, her hands by either side, like training wheels keeping her balanced. “You okay?” he asked as she accepted the sweet tea he offered and sipped delicately. “You need food?” Inara shook her head, distantly. “I’m not hungry.” Mal sat next to her again, putting an arm around her as much to steady her as steady himself. He was unnerved by her strange behavior and it had been a long while since he’d seen someone just fall over without taking a serious blow to the head first. Inara leaned her head on his shoulder, a tired sigh escaping her. It was an unusually intimate position for the two, and one he’d hoped would come about in a less terrifying way. “You sick?” She shook her head, her hair tickling his chin. “Does that mean you don’t intend to tell Simon about this; ‘cause if you don’t, I will.” He wasn’t sure if he felt her shrug or if her eyes spoke indifference, but she didn’t protest. “He wouldn’t be surprised, would he?” Inara shook her head again. “So you are sick,” Mal affirmed, craning his neck to get a look at the woman resting her head on his shoulder, but finding it difficult to see more than the top of her head and the bridge of her nose. “Not exactly,” she answered softly. “Mal… I’m pregnant.” This time, Mal pulled away, his mind racing, his eyes searching hers. They’d only had sex the one time. That once, after Miranda, when they were both mad with grief! Never since! It had screwed things up between them so royally that Zoë had stepped in to mediate. It took so much to take that backward step and get things back to the comfortable snail-pace they’d been at before. He struggled to keep his voice calm, though his heart thundered. “How’s that? Don’t the Guild set you up with decent birth control?” Inara shrugged. “No system is fool-proof, Mal. As often as I service clients, it’s amazing this hasn’t happened more often.” “More often?” Mal repeated, choking a little. Inara sighed dismissively and sipped her tea. “It’s not the first time.” Mal mouthed the words repeatedly, trying to get his brain to think coherently. If it wasn’t the first time she’d been pregnant, then she had no qualms about abortion. And she’d already talked to Simon, so why was she still pregnant? Things weren’t adding up. Unless… “’Nara, is it…” He could hardly speak. “Is it mine?” She chuckled disarmingly and shook her head, stirring her drink with the straw. “No, Mal, it’s not yours.” His brow furrowed, now even more thoroughly confused. “So, a client?” She nodded. “So… this ain’t the first time a client knocked you up.” Her eyes met his, her lips parted in sadness, and he wondered if perhaps he should have phrased his reasoning differently. But at this point, he was just aiming to reason at all. “Why haven’t you… you know?” Inara’s eyes fell again, her hand pressing against her still-flat stomach. “Simon said he could,” Inara began softly. She was starting to shake and Mal squeezed her gently and placing one hand on her knee to steady her. A few breaths later, she continued. “He said there’s so much damage from before, that if he does, I’ll probably never be able to have children.” “Is that – is having children something you wanted?” Mal stammered. Inara shook her head, tears starting to fall. “I don’t know,” she wept. “I never thought about it before. It’s just different – saying I don’t want a child now, and then saying never.” Mal nodded, but didn’t speak. He rubbed her back, holding her against him, glad that she didn’t resist. “By rights, he should be dead already,” Inara continued. “With all that I’m taking and all that I’ve done to prevent him from existing, he should be dead, but he keeps holding on… and I keep thinking I should give him a chance.” “What about your client?” Mal asked. “Does he know you’re considering bringin’ his child into the ‘verse?” Inara shrugged and shook her head. “S’pose the Guild has rules in place to protect you an’ all, but your clientele are somewhat on the rich and possessive side. Possible he’d want a part in raisin’ it.” Inara pressed her eyes shut and clutched the front of Mal’s shirt, fretfully. “I know I wouldn’t leave a child of mine out there to fend for himself. And I’m just a petty thief.” He caught a brief, winced smile at his remark and chose to stop talking. No doubt, she’d had these arguments with herself and many others on concerns he couldn’t begin to imagine. They fell to silence and leaned back on the bench, her clutching his shirt, both watching the sun set over the river. The sky radiated in a million strange and beautiful colors, catching in the prisms of Inara’s chandelier jewelry and reflecting little rainbows all over. “It’s not mine,” Mal whispered, affirming the fact for himself. He’d meant to say it only in his head; the words had leaked out unbidden. Inara squeezed his hand, and looked up at him through tear-soaked lashes. “No,” she confirmed. “But I’d like it to be.”

*~*

Balancing the baby in one arm, Mal climbed out of his bunk and headed for the engine room. Something about the warmth of the space and the pulsing of the engine always seemed to have a soothing effect on the baby. He hated bringing her to that place, but he wasn’t about to fight it with her screaming in his ear. She was awfully shrill for something so tiny. “Shh, Ally, shh,” Mal cooed as he walked, hoping he wouldn’t wake the entire ship again. Her black hair was splayed in every direction and her blue eyes were watery, though her wailing became more sporadic as they passed through the last hallway to the engine room. The pulse of Serenity’s engine filled the room and the air was warm, glowing orange in the dim lamplight. Kaylee was sprawled on her hammock, her own little one asleep on her chest. Although little Becky didn’t seem disturbed by the shrill entrance that Alessandra had made, Kaylee stirred and peeked an eye open. She had one leg hanging over the side of the hammock, pushing against the floor to rock herself, and closed her eyes again quickly. Mal continued to pace, grateful that his baby’s wails had reduced to whimpers. Kaylee groaned, rubbing her eyes tiredly, then holding on to Becky as she sat up. Still, the little one-year-old stayed fast asleep. “Hey, mei mei, didn’t mean to wake you,” Mal whispered. “’S’ok,” Kaylee replied, her voice gravelly with sleep. “I was workin’ late. Didn’t mean to take more ‘n a quick nap here. What time is it?” “Near two.” Kaylee nodded, shifting Becky on her shoulder. “Suppose I should get us to bed,” Kaylee smiled, looking endearingly at her daughter. “I suppose,” Mal agreed. Kaylee went on tip-toes to kiss Mal’s cheek before gliding out of the engine room. Mal couldn’t help but smile at the aura of mirth she left behind, as tactile as any of Inara’s perfumes. Alessandra’s whimpers were becoming more and more sporadic, replaced by contented sighs. He leaned against a bulkhead, letting his heartbeat align with Serenity’s and the baby’s in a slow, steady rhythm. “That’s my girl.”

*~*

It was a high-risk pregnancy from the start, and the only reason Inara continued with it was because she feared she might never be pregnant again. To Mal, that was a terrible reason, but he held his tongue. He loved her too much to deny her this. Still, after a few scares early on, Simon had ordered Inara to bed rest, worried that her already damaged cervix would open prematurely under the weight of the pregnancy. Her unexpected immobility had left Mal and Zoë to face Ronan Beauchamp, the baby’s father, alone. It took three days to track the man down and the meet had gone pretty much the way Mal had expected (except for the dogs), though it was less positive than he’d hoped (in part, because of the dogs). Mal rushed through the Infirmary, cleaning his bitten hand and applying a weave, promising he’d come back for stitches after he spoke with Inara. Inara was staying in the passenger dorms now, as close to the Infirmary as possible. Kaylee and River had brought a few things down to decorate the room, but in general, it was far too yellow and dismal. The bed was small and the mattress aged and flimsy. It broke Mal’s heart to confine Inara to such a tiny space, but such was their need, lest she lose her baby. The first night, he had started apologizing profusely, but Inara had silenced him saying she didn’t care where she was, so long as she was on Serenity. When Mal entered, Inara lay on her side, looking serene reading a book of poetry, her bulging belly filling most of the bed. A breath of joy washed over him on seeing her, knowing things were sadly less complicated than he initially feared. “What did he say?” Inara asked, putting down her book and propping herself up on one elbow. Mal swallowed hard, unsure of how to deliver the news. He opted for brutally quick. “He said he ain’t giving you money and if either of you come looking later, he’ll kill you both. He hired you for the weekend, no more.” It always irked Mal how easily Inara’s clients dismissed her. How they never saw her. Not that he wanted the complication of integrating the baby’s father into this, but the man’s adamant dismissal of his own kid made Mal want to shoot him. In fact, it was the shooting that led to the release of the dogs, and the running, and Zoë’s stern ‘I-told-you-so’ as they high-tailed it back to the ship. Inara looked as though she expected such news and lay back on the pillow, staring at the ceiling. He noticed a sigh of relief escape her lips, mixed with sadness, and she placed a hand on her belly. Mal took a chair next to her bed, ready to spin a yarn about the vicious attack dogs when she gave him the go ahead. It had been a strange couple of months – very uncomfortable for both of them. Much as he wanted to be there for Inara, they hardly had a romantic relationship to build on, and Mal couldn’t fathom starting one while she was pregnant with someone else’s child. It was already too complicated. Zoë had told him that if his heart was saying to be her friend, then be her friend. Wait for the baby to come, wait for the dust to settle, and move from there. Mal couldn’t imagine what crazy, foolhardy, friendship-destroying actions he’d have taken if Zoë weren’t there to smack him over the head once in a while. Maybe he should wait to tell the dog story until Zoë was there too. Might be funnier. Inara furrowed her brow and moved her hand to another part of her belly. Mal smiled, tentatively reaching out a hand and placing it next to hers. “He must be kicking up a storm,” Mal remarked, though he didn’t feel anything under his hand. Inara’s face screwed up, her hand moving again. She hit the call button by her bed, summoning Simon, then returned to probing her belly, concern and confusion spilling over her eyes. “’Nara?” “The baby hasn’t kicked at all today,” she said, her face puzzled. “No kicks?” “No turns, no hiccups…he always gets hiccups after breakfast.” Her breath was quickening in fear. “I’m sure he’s fine,” Mal said as Simon came in, medical bag in hand, stethoscope at ready. “Simon, he’s not moving,” Inara said urgently. Simon moved calmly, donning his stethoscope and listening at Inara’s stomach. “When was the last time you felt him move?” Simon asked, trying to instill calmness into Inara by his tone. He failed. “I don’t know,” Inara cried, and Mal grabbed her hand to soothe her. “Maybe yesterday. Maybe before. I don’t know. I was so… glad for the break.” Simon listened a moment longer with the stethoscope, his eyebrows twitching in a way Mal found unsettling. “Help me get her to the Infirmary,” Simon ordered Mal, standing quietly. No reassurances. No relaxing. Just that cool doctor stare that made Mal’s heart thunder and sent Inara into hysterics. The emotion sent Mal into emergency mode. He didn’t need help getting Inara anywhere. Fueled by adrenaline and superhuman strength born of fear, he scooped Inara up in his arms and carried her to the Infirmary.

*~*

Alessandra gurgled at him calmly, her dark blue eyes firmly on his face. She had the biggest eyes he’d ever seen on a baby and tiny little lashes that barely qualified as bristles. She got those wimpy lashes from her mother, and Mal was sure that Inara would teach her to put fake ones on soon enough. A little tongue peeked between her lips intermittently as her eyes remained solely on him. “You taste something, little one?” Mal asked, mimicking the move. The air tasted of burnt oil and ceramic dust, and it always worried Mal that the air wasn’t safe here. But Kaylee had been breathing it all these years and still seemed relatively sane. And little Becky didn’t have health problems. Mal knew that if there were anything unsafe about being here, Simon wouldn’t allow Becky into the room. Mal nuzzled his little girl happily, hoping to illicit a smile. Inara said she’d seen one the other day, but Mal hadn’t been there. He knew they’d capture one soon enough, but he was hoping for another preview. “You gonna sleep, little Ally, or shall I tell you funny stories ‘til you crack a smile for me.” The baby spit delighted bubbles, but no smile came. Mal smiled for the both of them and nuzzled her again. A shadow darted by the door. The air went suddenly still around him, his senses heightened. With his attention diverted, Alessandra started whimpering again, and Mal rocked her softly, trying to soothe and assess at the same time. Mal pushed away from the wall wondering if maybe he’d just seen Zoë. But that didn’t make sense, did it? “Zoë?” No answer.

*~*

Out in the Black it was dark and below freezing. Inside Serenity, it felt more-or-less the same. It had been a trying year, filled with loss and grief, and they’d just added another very tiny casket to the collection. The crew had poured so much hope and expectation into Inara’s little baby, and now had to mourn his death. Just yesterday, Mal had found out that Kaylee was now pregnant, but in light of Inara’s recent loss, they weren’t sharing the news just yet. Hell, it wasn’t just Inara’s loss. All of them had died a little more that day. Mal came out of the galley to the catwalk and was saddened to find Inara and Zoë, sitting back to back on the floor, heads leaned against each other, hands connected at that point on the floor near where their bodies connected. The love of his life and his best friend, both sad and dejected, captured in mourning. Zoë, he knew, had always pushed Wash to have children, and felt hopeless and lost with him gone. Inara had never wanted children, but had poured heart and soul into this one effort, and lost. The sadness connected the two somehow, and Mal was reluctant to disturb them. But moping never did either of them any good for more than twenty minutes, and their twenty minutes was up. “Don’t you ladies have work to do?” he prompted, towering over them, reaching out both hands to help them up. “Yes, sir,” Zoë answered stoically, but Inara remained silent. Zoë gripped his hand firmly and grunted as she stood. As soon as she was up, Zoë trotted off to complete her chores, her grief compartmentalized and stored for another time. Inara rose gracefully to her feet, but leaned on him more heavily, still sore from giving birth, and less willing to shelve her pain. “I feel so empty,” Inara whispered forlornly, searching his face, as if her soul were hidden there. “I know you do.” Mal squeezed her hand and guided her back to the galley, knowing that for the next few days he’d be responsible for when and whether she ate or slept. Inara winced as she sat down, and contemplated her fingernails. Mal ladled out some soup that Jayne had made earlier and set the bowl before Inara. She stirred it glumly, but didn’t eat. Finally she dropped the spoon on the table, and began to weep. Mal sat next to her, wrapping his arms around her, letting her cry on his shoulder. “I think, he knew I didn’t want him,” Inara choked through sobs and sniffles. “I think he knew… because he wasn’t yours.” “Don’t say such things,” Mal soothed, shushing and rocking her. “You loved him. You did.” “I wanted him to be yours,” she cried softly. “Oh, ‘Nara,” Mal breathed. “Every soul on this boat is one of mine. I’d’ve loved him like my own, and not just because you asked me to.” Inara shuddered and sniffled, lifting her head off Mal’s shoulders and facing him more directly. Carefully, she leaned in, wiping her tears onto his cheeks, and exploring his jaw line with tender kisses. Mal could feel the heat of grief all over her. It had driven them to sex once before and made a terrible mess of things. He’d vowed never to let that happen again. The next time they made love… it would be love. Sad as he was for the loss, not having this child between them would make things a little less complicated. Maybe even get them where they needed to be going. So when she found his lips, he kissed her once, and then pulled away.

*~*

Mal had never felt the bone-crushing death grip of a woman in labor, and as much as he knew his hand was broken, he bit his tongue, knowing she was in far more pain. Of course, that led to the tongue bleeding, which really wasn’t helping much. The only thing that did seem to help was the distracting chatter of Kaylee and Inara as they sat on the side-bed making small talk. Mal ventured a look at Zoë and saw her face was contorted in strain. Zoë said it helped having the ladies chatting and insisted that they talk about anything besides her present position, which was getting more difficult for them the closer the baby came. “Almost there,” Simon coached eagerly, and Zoë glared at him. “It’s so not fair,” Kaylee carped jokingly, shaking her head. “It took me seventeen hours to get an ‘almost there’, and it’s only taken her four.” Zoë gritted her teeth and Mal nearly blacked out as she crushed his hand again with the onset of another contraction. Next time he looked for a surrogate, he’d opt for someone with a weaker grip. Inara took Kaylee’s hand as they watched in eager anticipation. “I see the head,” Simon announced. “Doc,” Zoë gasped. “Somethin’ ain’t right.” “I see that, too,” Simon assured. “Just one more push to get her out.” Less than a minute later, baby Alessandra entered the world with ten fingers, ten toes, and the most powerful set of lungs known in the ‘verse. Simon examined her briefly, before handing her over to Kaylee and Inara for cleaning. They were acting as his nursing crew. Exhausted, Zoë’s head fell against the bed, but Mal didn’t let go of her hand. He craned his neck, excitedly trying to see the wailing child. Zoë was gasping and Simon was already rooting through drawers gathering scalpels, needles, and unnamed drugs. A few moments later, Inara brought the weeping child over, and motioned with her shoulders for Mal to take her. Mal shook his head, partially on account of his recently broken hand, but mostly because he’d already decided to let Zoë hold her first. With a nod of his own, he motioned Inara to give the child to Zoë. “Zoë,” Inara offered, laying the baby gently on Zoë’s chest. Between pants and gasps, Zoë’s eyes filled with tears. Mal could count on one hand the number of times he’d seen Zoë cry, and it didn’t surprise him that this event added a notch. Her arms shaky, Zoë cuddled the baby to her, and instantly the baby stopped crying. “Seems she loves her Momma Zoë,” Inara remarked softly, caressing them both. The two women shared a look that Mal couldn’t even begin to understand. Mal had worried at first that having his best friend be a surrogate mother to his child would complicate life on Serenity far too much. But thus far, it was only complicating and confusing to him. The women seemed to have it all worked out, and so long as things stayed that way, it suited him just fine. Zoë winced and reeled in response to something Simon did and Mal reached out a hand to steady her. “Please take the baby outside for now,” Simon said calmly, his body tense. Inara picked up the infant carefully and Mal ushered both her and Kaylee outside. When he turned back, Zoë was leaking fresh blood, and by the look on Simon’s face, it was the wrong blood to be leaking. “What do you need, Doc?” Simon shook his head, his fingers working frantically. “I need blood…” he said thoughtfully, going through the list of crew members in his head. “Get Jayne.” “I got blood, Doc!” “You are the wrong blood type,” Simon explained patiently, his words spurring Mal to action. It wasn’t his place to question Simon. Not if it led to a delay that cost Zoë her life. He punched the comm console. “Jayne, get down here, ma shang.” Then he poked his head into the hall and shouted the same plea. “Doc, me and Zoë have shared blood before.” “She can give to you. Not the other way around.” “But the baby,” Mal stammered. “She’s had my blood in her for months now.” “I know.” Zoë cried out again and Mal grabbed hold of her hand. He couldn’t tell if she was shaking, but he knew that he was. Jayne dashed in, slipping on the blood-slicked floor, but recovering quickly. Was Simon cutting or sewing? How could he see through all the red? Mal pressed Zoë’s hand to his heart, but she was no longer conscious. This was supposed to be a joyous day, not another tragedy. In his greediness to have a child with Inara, had he killed his best friend? “Captain,” Simon called. Mal looked at Zoë’s face, serene and pale, feeling nothing. “Captain.” He could hear the baby wailing in the hallway. “Mal,” Simon said, placing a hand on his shoulder. Mal shook off the emotion, dropped Zoë’s hand, and stood seriously, deciding to find a towel and clean the blood off the floor. “You need something else, Doc?” “Mal, perhaps you should wait outside.”

*~*

“Zoë?” Mal called. No answer. The ship was ghostly still and eerily quiet. Alessandra whimpered and wailed again as Mal poked his head outside the engine room, his eye catching a flutter of movement. Zoë was at the end of the hall, walking away from him. “Zoë?” She stopped and turned slowly, leaning against the bulkhead, her head ducked like she’d just been caught spying. She was on the mend from the cold that was going around. The cold that Inara had and Mal was sure he was getting. Zoë looked from the crying baby to Mal and walked tentatively toward them. Mal met her half way. Since she’d been the first to get sick, Zoë hadn’t seen Alessandra for nearly two weeks – almost half her little life! Zoë reached out and touched the baby tenderly. “It’s hard to hear her cry and not come runnin’,” Zoë said mournfully, looking like she’s lost Wash all over again. Mal shifted the baby to his shoulder, patting her back, but still she cried. “You’re on the mend now, Zoë. Why wouldn’t you come?” Zoë shrugged, shaking her head, her eyes fixed on the baby. “She ain’t mine.” “Zo,” Mal countered, his heart going out. “This baby ain’t here without you. She’s as much yours as mine.” Flying on love, Mal handed Alessandra over to Zoë and the baby’s cries stopped immediately. Ever since she was born, that was the way of it. Mal knew it pained Inara at times, but he couldn’t deny there was more joy than jealousy in the complicated mess of parenting. They said it took a village to raise a child, but this child had also required a village to conceive and deliver. She was Serenity’s baby. That masked pain in Zoë’s eyes fell away as she held baby Alessandra and rocked her to sleep. Peace permeated the hallways of Serenity in that moment. Mal closed his eyes, leaned against the wall, and rested in the silence for a few breaths. He could hear Zoë singing softly, her voice barely a whisper over the throb of Serenity’s heartbeat. With a smile, he opened his eyes again and watched Zoë, glad that she was still here, able to be a part of this. They walked together back to his bunk and he took the baby, tipping open the door so he could climb down. Before he did, he turned to Zoë seriously, the quirk of a grin on his lips. “When you hear her cry again, I expect you to come running.” Zoë raised an eyebrow, the glint in her eye reflecting that in his. “Yes, sir.”

*~*