PART 5

Mal lay on his side on the cool deck plates of Serenity II’s bridge, propped on one elbow, spooned around Inara, and stroking the length of her torso. Surrounded by a nest of their shed clothing, bare skin exposed to the cool ship’s air, he shivered as the sheen of sweat on his skin slowly dried. Inara closed her eyes and sighed as she rested contentedly against him, basking in his love.

“I should’ve started having birthdays ages ago,” she said alluringly, wriggling her hips against his. Mal moaned pleasurably, but they were both spent. He couldn’t decide if he was hot or cold, but he grabbed his coat and pulled it over them like a blanket.

“What shall we name her?” he asked

Inara smiled delightedly and looked around the bridge of the ship. “She can’t really be mine. How did you do this?”

“I’m independently wealthy,” Mal said seriously, but laughed when she pinched his chest. He unfolded his arm so she could use it as a pillow, and held her close, deciding it was time to tell her all the changes he’d planned for their lives. “I sold the house.”

He’d worried about doing that without her knowing, but she didn’t even seem surprised. Instead, she looked confused. “Our house doesn’t have enough equity to buy a ship this nice.”

“I’m not without investors who believe in my cause,” Mal allowed. “Jayne sold his place too and Kaylee and Simon.”

Inara sat up sharply and the coat fell away. “They all knew?”

It was hard to concentrate when she was naked, delighted, and staring down at him. Using his finger, Mal drew small, delicate circles around her naval and smiled mischievously. “So what do you say? Shall we return to port and pick up our crew?”

She looked around the ship, clearly imagining the life and sounds that would soon fill it, and the familiarity of home. Then she pressed him onto his back, straddled his hips, and kissed him deeply.

“Not just yet,” she whispered in his ear, stretching until she’d prostrated her body over his. “I want you to make love to me again while no one’s here to interrupt.”

*~*

River had never given up the dream of having her own child. She’d dreamed through every permutation – boy, girl, twins, triplets, human, alien. She’d imagined their possible homes, planet-side and vessel-side. She’d imagined teaching them dance and art and science, and how they’d make cookies or rocket ships on Saturday afternoons; how they’d go on adventures; how she’d stand by their bedroom door at night and watch their daddy kiss their foreheads as he tucked them in. And then she’d spend the evening lying next to her husband, talking about the future, and dreaming of retiring. In her thousands of dreams, she’d never imagined being a single mother.

As she sat alone on the front porch swing, she looked at her baby, and wished as hard as she could for her dream to come true. Serenity Sky – her very name was memorial of miracles, love, songs, laughter, and dreams come true. And River had one more dream – that the past would be erased, and her baby’s father would come home, and they would be a family. Her brain always got in the way of the dream, reminding her of how Daquan had left her and there was no way to undo his cruelty. He’d dropped her on her brother’s doorstep and didn’t even knock on the door to make sure help was there. But she could dream. Even now, River felt him sitting next to her, his body warming hers from the closeness, and they looked at their beautiful baby girl sleeping so peacefully. She could feel him coming. If she looked down the street, she could see him – she could see the light reflecting off his hair and catching the glistening tear of regret in his eyes. She could see him.

River blinked and sat straighter. She could see him. It wasn’t a daydream. It wasn’t a vision. He was there in the street, walking toward her. She could hear his footsteps and she started to worry. The front gate creaked as he entered the yard. The meds had been working so well up until now. Her baby was in her arms and she was terrified that she’d hand her baby to someone who wasn’t there and her baby would fall. River took a deep breath and looked at Serry, then she looked up and watched Daquan approaching the house.

“Hello, River,” he greeted casually, as if he hadn’t left her to die when last they spoke. “It’s good to see you.”

“You’re not here,” River told him. Her voice was shaking, but she could not let go of the baby. “Can’t be here.”

“Is this her?” Daquan asked, pulling away the hood of the parka so he could see Serry’s face. River tried not to jerk away from him. She needed to get help.

“No,” River said, standing up and turning the baby away from him. “No. You’re dead to us. Go away.”

“You’re not well,” he said, placing a firm hand on her elbow. “Maybe I should take the baby.”

“Go away,” River said more insistently, nudging the front door open with her foot and searching for help. They had a plan for this. She’d practiced with Simon. She had to fight him.

“You’re squeezing her too tight,” Daquan said sharply, following River into the house. “Let me take her.”

River looked at her baby. Was she squeezing to tight? No one was here to help her. She had to set Serry down some place safe. That was the plan for when this happened. The cradle was in the living room. She blinked away the tears in her eyes, trying to clear her vision so she could find her way.

“Simon,” River called, no longer caring if she woke the baby. She set Serry down in the cradle and headed for the back door. “Simon!”

She looked back, but Daquan wasn’t following her. He was standing next to the cradle looking at Serry. And then he picked her up.

“No!” River shrieked. “Put her down!”

Daquan rocked the baby gently and smiled at River. “She’s beautiful.”

“Put her down!” River screamed. She didn’t know what to do anymore. “Put her down!”

“Don’t get hysterical,” Daquan said in a hushed voice, but the baby woke anyway and whimpered tiredly. Daquan rocked her. “Now look what you’ve done.”

“No!” River cried. She couldn’t fight him without hurting Serry. But she couldn’t get help without letting her baby out of her sight. So she screamed.

“Nooooooo!!!!!”

*~*

Michael leaned against the wall of the upstairs hallway and Courtney leaned against the wall opposite him. Their fingers grazed occasionally, and he couldn’t say for sure what they were talking about anymore. They did manage to keep talking though, wandering lazily over topics, making googly eyes at each other. He wanted to kiss her. He was transfixed by the way her lips moved and her eyes shone and he was ready to make his move. Gathering his courage, he pushed himself off the wall and took a step closer to her.

That was when he heard River scream.

Alarmed, Michael forgot Courtney and dashed down the stairs. River was alone with the baby and he was the closest, and he sensed something was terribly wrong. He scanned the living room quickly, and saw River curled on the floor, writhing, and screeching, and ripping at her hair. He fell to his knees beside her, trying to assess what kind of fit she was having.

“Michael!” Courtney called, dashing down the stairs as well.

“Get the Doc!” Michael shouted. She went to the back door, but kept looking back at him uncertainly. “Simon! Call for Simon!”

“He took my baby,” River moaned.

“Aunt River, there’s no one here,” Michael told her, caressing her face. He craned his neck to see if Serry was in her cradle. “Did you set Serry down? Where did you put her?”

“He took her!” River cried. “He came and he took her!”

His heart beating a mile a minute, Michael left River and circled the room looking for Serry. Maybe River had left her outside on the swing. Mixing swears and prayers, he dashed outside and froze in surprise. There was a stranger out front, holding the crying baby in his arms. The stranger saw him and started to run, but Michael had his gun drawn before the man reached the front gate. Recognizing the danger, the man slowed and turned his head, keeping his back to Michael.

“Hand over the child,” Michael growled, his voice low and threatening.

“Are you crazy!” the man spat. “If you shoot me, she falls!”

He took another step toward the gate, but Michael shot the ground next to his feet making him jump. Serry wailed.

“Hand over the child,” Michael repeated slowly.

The stranger turned. “Look at her. She’s not fit to raise a baby!”

Michael held the man’s gaze as he caught another flicker of movement. His backup had arrived more quickly than he’d anticipated. Genny came up from behind the stranger, grabbed his hair, and pressed her gun to the back of his head.

“Do as he says,” she snarled, her voice iced with the promise of violence. “Hand over the child.”

The man’s eyes went wide, and he couldn’t back away as Michael covered the distance between them. Michael kept his gun trained right between the man’s eyes, and he took Serry with one arm, then stepped back again. The man was about to say something more, but Genny pistol-whipped him and knocked him out.

Holstering his gun, Michael turned his attention to Serry, who was hollering at the top of her lungs. He rocked and shushed the baby as Genny nudged at the unconscious kidnapper.

“Aren’t you supposed to have special brain power to make him do stuff,” Genny criticized.

Michael shrugged. “I couldn’t be sure he wouldn’t drop her. I don’t get to practice the fine motor control much.” He didn’t mention it would have killed the man.

“Who is this anyway?”

“This is Daquan,” Aunt Kaylee said, coming out of the shadows. “This is Serry’s father.”

Michael swayed on his feet, desperately trying to get the baby to calm, and he could hear Aunt River crying out.

“I should take the baby inside,” Kaylee said holding out her arms, but Michael didn’t want to let go of her.

“I’ll take her.”

“Sure, I’ll just … stay here,” Genny agreed, kicking at their prisoner. She turned to her mom. “Tie him up?”

Kaylee shrugged disinterestedly. “I left my fuzzy handcuffs at home.”

*~*

Michael wheezed, fighting for breath as he carried baby Serry inside. The adrenaline still had his heart pumping, and the baby wouldn’t stop crying. He’d never saved a child’s life before; he’d never seen one so close to danger. He wasn’t sure if his parents had just gotten used to it with him and his siblings, or if they felt this heart-stopping panic every time.

The house was buzzing with concerned family running back and forth, searching for anything they could do to help without getting in the way. Uncle Simon knelt on the floor next to Aunt River, red medical bag open, already administering a sedative. It was such a strange thing to experience, because River’s mind went quiet, then the light left her eyes, and only a tiny piece of her soul was left, fighting for consciousness. Michael hated it, but sometimes, with Aunt River, there was no choice.

“He took her,” River wept with the last remnant of energy. “I don’t understand. Where did she go?”

“Hey, Aunt River. Serry’s right here,” Michael said softly, squatting in front of her, showing her the baby.

“Oh, thank God,” River moaned. She tried to reach out, but couldn’t move her arm anymore, so Michael took her hand and laid it on Serry’s head. The baby calmed almost instantly, and reached for her mother, whimpering again, because her mother had no strength to take her.

“I saw him,” River said, her voice soft and panicked. “I saw him pick her up and then she moved. I …”

“It was Daquan,” Aunt Kaylee said.

River’s eyes widened and she nodded fervently. “Yes. He seemed so real.”

“He was real,” Uncle Simon said, wrapping his arms around his sister. “What you saw – it wasn’t a hallucination. It was real.”

River cried and her head lolled against Simon’s chest. “Real? He really came?”

“Yeah,” Michael said, feeling the horror as she relived the moments in her mind.

“He tried to take her?”

“Yeah.”

A wave of anger washed through River and her lips curled into a snarl. “I’ll kill him.”

Simon reached for his cane and motioned Uncle Jayne over to help him move River. “I want to get you to a bed.”

River ignored him and turned to Serry, caressing her baby’s face with shaky fingers. “Don’t cry, baby. Mommy’s got to go kill Daddy. Won’t take but a minute.”

Michael watched pitifully as the sedative took hold and the last little spark of life in her mind let go. Uncle Jayne caught her in his arms and carried her up the stairs. Michael’s whole body shook and a lump of grief twisted in his chest. Sitting on the floor, he held the crying baby close, whispering the prayer his mother always said over him.

The heat of terror lifted when Courtney knelt next to him and placed a calming hand on his shoulder. He rested in her peace and in the safety she offered, and finally took a long breath of air.

“Are all your family gatherings like this?” she asked lightly. Unfortunately, this was not as atypical as he wished it were. It was just his first time being the one doing all the saving. He leaned his head against her shoulder and smiled.

“Well, no,” he joked. “Usually, there’s cake.”

Courtney laughed at him, then tapped his shoulder and pointed to the kitchen. There was indeed cake.

*~*

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