Jayne had slept in till well into the noon.

After waking up, he had gone and taken a bath, then gotten a decent hair cut, shave and some fresh clothes. Mal had told him to spend just the basics, but then Mal didn't know that Jayne for some time had been winning and keeping money of his own. So the merc bought himself a rather nice new shirt and pants, and when he went to eat he ordered enough for two men, plus added a cigar and a shot of whiskey to the meal.

After stuffing himself with breakfast and lunch all in one sitting, the freshly bathed Jayne headed out to a small store he had heard word of mouth of. With the furs bundled on his shoulder, he crossed the street of the small town and entered the shop. Like half of the shops in Tehatchepi it was a leather goods shop; filled with chaps, coats, gloves, leads, hats and anything else that could be fashioned out of hide or fur. With large strides, Jayne went over to the counter and set his goods down with an itched growl. He was sore from lack of companionship, which was why he was up so early. If there had been a woman the merc turned cowboy probably wouldn't have left his tiny hotel room until the sun went down. Nonetheless, since he wasn't preoccupied, he decided to run the errands then spend the rest of his time at the saloon. Taking his hat off, then his orange knit piece and stuffing it in his back pocket, crude blue eyes scanned the business as the sound of footsteps came from the back.

"Good day." The shop keep greeted.

"Howdy." Jayne's deep voice replied, cigar clenched between his teeth. "Got some furs, wish ta trade."

"Well now, always like the site of trade. Name's Joseph Fezznik." Wiping his hands on his apron he thrust one in front of the huge man's chest.

Jayne stared down at the man. Forest folk were a peculiar genetic lot. The original mountain settlers had spent so many decades up in the highlands, they were now built for the terrain. They were a small subculture, their frames short and slight. Lean in the muscle, but it made them fast and strong. The kind of folk that could nimbly move through the forest, climb the granite and survive the summits. A man like Jayne made them look like a colony of dwarves, for on average they were around River and Kaylee's height, and the women were even smaller. Refraining from asking if he had fallen into MidgetLand, Jayne shook Fezznik's hand. "Jayne." He shook it lightly, afraid he may break the bones of the small man's fingers. "Lookn' ta swap these skins fer four pairs of woolies."

"Got yourself a pack'a jackeroos?" The short man guessed, his rough hands flipping through the furs.

"Yeah. Need us warm digs." Pausing, he grew cautious. "But um... you make them in non-midget sizes, right?"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Mal had remembered something in the barn.

Kicking off his caked boots, he hoisted the bassinet in his arms and went into the living room, gently setting it down. Next, with a rediculous smile the captain went to the porch and retrieved a trunk, and set that down next to it. Getting in front of the items, he addressed the mother that was somewhere in the house. "'Nara."

Inara said something from upstairs.

"Inara." He rocked impatiently on his heels.

"What.... Mal...." She hurried down the stairs, with the basket containing Meilin who was actually awake and not needing something. He sounded excited, which warrent suspicion. Coming onto the first floor, it was very clear he was shirtless, and covered from head to toe in dirt and sweat whilst his suspenders swung from his dirt smeared pants. She contemplated his appearance, shifting to humor. "You've decided to revert back to being a three year old?"

The excitement that he had possessed faded. "For your information I've been digging post holes all day, thank you very much. Someone's gotta take this job seriously."

"What's with the big mark on your chest?" There was in fact, a rather large circular pattern on his chest, consistent with someone pelting him with a dirt clod.

"Well Kaylee.... you know what, never mind about that." He caught himself, getting out of the way and gesturing grandly to the items. "Look at this."

Inara arched a well sculpted brow at Mal.

"It's my old baby stuff." The captain announced. "I found it in the barn, mom saved it as she never fancied throwing something of use or memory away. Which means, handmedowns."

A coy smile danced on her lips. This, was the proverbial olive branch. "Are you excited about giving this all to Meilin?" Her voice nearly cooed, and she laughed on the inside when he became rather dour in the face. "Mal, it's ok to express the fact that you like her being here and helping with her." Checking the baby, who was discovering her fingers for the first time, Inara set the basket on the couch and wafted over to Mal to inspect the bassinet.

"Well... just saw all this stuff and thought of the memories. Figured it might help some." He hedged, for he was in denial about his own feelings regarding the baby. Though, he did accept her. "Cause I surely ain't forkin' good cash over for similar supplies."

"Of course." She exclaimed sarcastically, the ribbing was so natural. The bassinet was in remarkable condition, the white paint was a little aged but all it really seemed to need was a wipe down with a damp cloth and a new mattress. Furthermore it was just the right height to be placed next to the bed, so Meilin could be easily reached.

"Hey, don't take that tone, I didn't have ta dig through...."

"But you did." She cut him off, kneeling and opening the trunk. "Wow."

When Mal saw it, he fell into good memories. In that well sealed trunk was a time capsule of his life. Inside were a few rows of albums, some old toys, rattles and toy keys during his infancy, a hand ball, a quilt Hadley Reynolds had made for him when he was a youngin, some clothes, a knitted blanket, and a two plush animals. Refraining from getting overly emotional, he picked up the plush buffalo with the denim patch on the side where it had been repaired and showed it to Inara. "See? Kid stuff."

"Well thank you, I doubt I want her to wear blue, but everything else, thank you." Inara carefully pulled out the blankets and toys. She took the time to remove what could be used for the infant. The knitted blanket was obviously made when Malcolm's mother didn't know whether or not he was going to be a boy or a girl, for the yarn was mint green and cotton candy pink. The quilt was from when he was older, and made out of scraps of western patterned and solid navy material. Along with that, were the toys, including a teddy bear that had seen so many rough adventures it appeared to be patchwork. Last, she took out the photo albums, and watched as Mal was tossing the ball and catching it. "Looks like I have some work to do."

He nodded his head, awkwardly, for he didn't seem to know how to gauge his own reaction to everything going on. Giving a little smile, he scratched the back of his head. "So um... I'd help but, I should probably go and fetch some diapers and formula, huh."

Inara looked him over with great emphasis.

"After puttin' on a shirt of course."

"Of course." Inara went to the captian and gave him a peck on the lips.

Mal gave her his dazed, happy look. "So um.. would you like all of this upstairs?"

"Right here's fine. I still need to figure out where all of this goes."

With toy buffalo in hand he walked away, setting the plush animal in the basket with Meilin before heading up the stairs.

With a new basketmate, Meilin stopped her trail and error with the wondrous digits she had found, and wobbly turned her head to eye the stuffed animal. The little girl struggled to get closer, for even so new she was curious, however she lacked mobility and merely wiggled. Frustrated and confused, she let out a whiny noise. Which in turn produced heavy breathing and tears.

Inara set everything down to see what was amiss. Gently picking her baby up, she kissed the delicate forehead. "Shhhh Zhi de xing wu ai."

Meilin heard the sweet voice and slowed her breathing. Sighing, she rubbed her face against the soft fabric of the dress, holding on tight. After three days, mother always made it better.

"Is this it?" Plucking the toy up, she held it next to Meilin, who in turn struggled to grasp the old furry buffalo and followed by drooling on it. Smiling, Inara set it down as Meilin shortly lost interest, and held her close. "He's giving it all to you, and I do believe that means something." As she took the time to rock and cosset the wee child, something she had yet to tire from, Inara absently thought. Since Meilin's arrival and unofficial adoption, her mind had been clouded with child related thoughts. It usually stemmed from self judgement, how she had never imagined having a child. The layout of her life had been centered around the guild. That she would travel throughout the core, being wined and dined by her white collared clients. Finally, she would have retired to either live a life of politics of head mistress of the companion academy itself. Living her life single, and in opulence. But now, as the opulence had been replaced with a ranch on a browncoat refugee planet, she was so deeply in love with Meilin that she might have well have carried the child for nine months. It was exhausting, yet incredibly enlightening as being in love with Meilin was love without bounds.

The current mental topic, however, was on the walking paradox, Malcolm Reynolds.

His previous downright negativity concerning anything babe related hadn't made her think twice. It was Mal, and he got crotchety about things with little valid excuse all the time. As long as he didn't verbally snap at her, she had learned to care less. That was what had happened with Meilin. However, today he had confused and piqued her interest. After two days of nothing but ignoring the newest member of their mismatched kin, he suddenly showed what could only be described as hesitant adoration. Accepting her into the fold. Now, as his temperament had changed like the prairie wind, she was wondering why he had been so unbending in the first place. Surely it wasn't just over another mouth to feed.

Mal's feet gave a hollow sound on the staircase. It riveted Inara away from her thoughts, and made her turn as he began to speak. "Won't be more than an hour." He declared, decked in clean clothes. "There's still work to be done and I'll be on the mule." Crossing the floor, he took the effort to go over and say goodbye. Placing a hand on Inara's shoulder he gave her a rather thoughtful kiss. Then looking down, the captain leaned in, took a miniature hand and pressed his lips to it.

Inara smiled broadly at his warmth. "Kissing now?"

"It's hard work being so damn cute. Getting kissed is one of the perks." He announced, straightening himself and petting the hand that had curled into a fist.

Meilin yawned. It was hard work.

"So you work hard at being cute?"

"Indubitably. I mean some of it's natural, but this doesn't happen all by itself." With that, and a sideways smirk, he went to the coatrack to retrieve his coat.

"Goodbye, Mal."

"Bye, Ladies."

Inara watched him. How he strode over to the barn, picking up a clod of dirt and easily pitching it at Kaylee so it smacked the post-holing mechanic in the back. Kaylee let out an indignant voice, for he had evened the score as he got in the mule and left.

"It's hard for him."

Inara turned to the tune of their clairvoyant's words. River taking a seat at the dedicated sourcebox Kaylee had installed in the kitchen for using the cortex, had seemed to appear out of no where. Then again that was how she normally made an entrance. Furrowing her brows, Inara tried to understand the vague declaration as she set Meilin back down in her basket.

"Seen things no one should see." She explained, typing a false access code in so she could enter the networked coretex without anyone tracking. "Dreamt in history, war and blood. Remembers a time when those clad in the armor the color of royals were more barbarians then soldiers." Her voice was low, but she held little emotion in it as she seemed disconnected to the memory. Fingers swiftly typing away, then pressing enter to load up a how-to page about pianos. "Saw what they did, how they cleansed planets of any blood that swore to the green and black. The young laid out like fatted calves at the alter of the confederation. Offerings to the gods of war."

Inara felt sick to her stomach as River's tale made sense.

Her face pulled tense as she let out a breath to stable herself. "Part of who he is, fire that tempered the blade. Saw her and remembered. Had to move away, stay away, work away. Mind to the grindstone and out of the grim." Her eyes glued to the screen as she read and talked at the same time. "Gave in though, admired your hard work, commiserated your exhaustion. Felt the upright thing to do. Rolled up the bad history, put it away in the closet, rolled up is sleeves and helped. Fell in love, melted some of the ice, wants to be more involved, complete."

Looking at Meilin and imagining the horrors Mal and Zoe had gone through, it made sense he would still feel and think the tragedies, and not say much as it would burden everyone. Zoe was more career military, and she probably handled it far less personally. As Inara nodded her head, she wondered how River could keep something in like that. "Thank you." Her voice was sincere as she walked over and gave the girl in the chair a hug.

River leaned against Inara's side and answered the thought. "Much practice. I am the keeper of everyone's days of yore, and protect the antiquated moments."

Inara lifted her brows to that comment.

"Yes, even yours." The reader announced, tilting her head up to gaze into the equally brown eyes. It was a role she had formed herself, and something that was bestowed upon her by circumstance. The crew's history was stored in the deep recesses of her mind, and even though she often teased and blurted out their thoughts, she respected everyone and guarded their pasts. Therefore even though she shed some light onto Mal's reason, she was still keeping it vague, for what his eyes had laid upon was far more graphic and perverse than anything anyone ordinary could stomach. "But I hold all quondam close, only told you because he would never tell."

*** *** *** TRANSLATIONS/DEFINITIONS

Zhi de xing wu ai: It's ok my love

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**As always, the writer appreciates all comments whether they be positive, negative, or suggestions.**