PART 8

Mal stood next to Simon as he delivered River’s message to Daquan, and a small part of him broke inside as the man turned snidely and left without a fight. He loved Little River and Baby Serry like his own, and he hated that their family was starting out broken. He wished so much more for them. As soon as Daquan was out of sight, Simon turned on his heels and stalked out the back door. Mal followed, but he knew the other man needed to be alone for awhile. Simon went past the fire and the picnic table, and disappeared into the shadows at the edge of the creek. Mal could hear the angry thwack as Simon thrashed his cane against the marsh grass. The aura of perfection had lifted from the night, and Mal could see the cracks in everything.

Little Genny sat on the picnic table, leaning her head on her mother’s shoulder. He’d seen the pain in her surfacing on and off the whole night, but it had been mostly off until now. Mal went to the fire where most of the others were standing, tapped Cole on the shoulder, and nodded his head toward Genny. He couldn’t quite peg the look that came over Cole’s face, but he didn’t like it. Where Genny was carrying pain, Cole carried guilt as if he were the source of it. Cole took a deep breath and prepared dutifully to comfort his wife, but Mal took his arm and directed his son into the house for a heart-to-heart.

“Why is your wife crying?” Mal asked.

Cole ducked his head repentantly and Mal bristled, immediately protective of Genny.

“Cole?”

No response.

“Do you want me to start accusing you of unseemly things?”

“What? No,” Cole breathed indignantly, his eyes flashing angrily and welling with tears. “No. I am a good husband.”

Mal wasn’t getting anywhere. They were still too much in the open. He pulled Cole through the dining room and into the laundry room, and Mal closed the door. Cole went immediately to the window and gazed helplessly out at Genny.

“What did you do?” Mal asked.

“I would never hurt her!” Cole cried, though his defensive tone spoke the contrary. Cole kicked the ground and raked his fingers through his hair in frustration. “There’s nothing I can do. She doesn’t want anyone to know –”

“That she’s pregnant,” Mal finished and Cole’s jaw dropped in fear and surprise. Mal sighed heavily. “Son, if there’s one thing I have a gift for recognizing, it’s that glow of a new life growing in a woman. The only person I’ve ever missed it on is Sky, so my track record is four out of five women, and if I’m right about Genny, then five out of six.”

Cole’s eyes darted around the room like he was trapped. He did not confirm Mal’s suspicion, but he ducked his head shamefully.

“It’s yours, right?” Mal checked. He didn’t expect Genny to be unfaithful, but if she’d been attacked like Inara had, it would explain Cole’s guilt.

But Cole nodded. He knew what had happened to his Mama, and he understood why Mal asked.

“You know, most people would think it’s good news,” Mal offered gently.

“It is,” Cole agreed, his face twisting with confusion. “I’d shout it from the rooftop, if only she’d let me. But the more I look at her, the more I see she doesn’t want it.” Cole fell to his knees and covered his mouth, trying to contain himself, but still he sobbed. “She doesn’t want it. What do I do, Baba?”

Cole looked up at him, brown eyes desperate and pleading for forgiveness, as though he’d committed a horrible atrocity. His only crime was that he loved his wife and his unborn child and he didn’t know how to save one without losing the other.

Mal pulled his son to his feet, not willing to let him blubber. Cole was like his mother – fearing things that hadn’t been decided yet. He looked his son in the eye, making sure his truths were heard.

“Stop weeping for your child like you’ve already lost it. Has she said she doesn’t want it?”

Cole swallowed and shook his head.

“Have you asked her?”

“I can’t,” Cole cried wretchedly, pacing in a circle. “What if she –”

He choked, unable to finish speaking the fear. He kicked the wall angrily and brushed past Mal to the door, but he stopped when his hand hit the knob. He wasn’t ready to leave.

“You have to ask her,” Mal said calmly. “You have to know. You can’t sit there and stew in your respective uncertainties; you need each other. Having babies is scary as hell. Whatever this ‘look’ is that you see in her, you have to flesh it out and know what you’re dealing with. It might hurt like the devil, but you share that hurt with her and you love her through every moment of it.”

Cole suddenly pulled a blade from his belt and chucked it across the room. Mal ducked instinctively, even though it wasn’t directed at him, and he stared at the point where the blade had embedded itself in the wood of the window sill. Mal had never seen Cole so intense, and he hadn’t realized that his son was armed. Cole paced bitterly and retrieved his blade from the wall, then he leaned against the window sill and picked at the splintered wood broodingly.

“Go ahead,” Mal said sardonically, going to the door so his son could cool down alone. “You’re fixing that in the morning.”

When he opened the door, he heard a retching sound. Looking across the dining room, he could see Genny in the kitchen, vomiting in the sink. Cole looked at her too, and his expression softened immediately. Wiping his face, he came tentatively to the door of the laundry room and Mal took the blade from his hand. Cole looked at his fingers, acknowledging Mal’s touch, and then back to Genny. Then he crossed the room to tend to his wife.

*~*

Jayne followed Jamie as Jamie carried Emily inside. When he first arrived, Jamie had talked to his dad and then visited Serry and Emily had gotten a bit jealous. It was hard for her not being the baby anymore, because everyone asked about the baby first. Emily had been commanding Jamie’s attention pretty steadily ever since. When she fell asleep, Jayne thought about taking his daughter home and putting her to bed, but he wasn’t ready to leave yet, and after what had happened with Daquan, he wouldn’t feel right leaving his daughter alone, no matter how safe it was. There were three beds and two couches at Mal’s place, all first come, first served, and thirteen people would be squeezed into them come morning (if they all slept), because they’d all rather sleep like sardines than sleep on the floor. Jamie set Emily on the couch in the living room, since she was the only one short enough to stretch out on it. As Jamie took off Emily’s shoes, Jayne found a blanket to lay over his daughter. Jamie spared him a glance, then slouched tiredly into the arm chair.

“That was a brave face you put on,” Jayne said, leaning on the arms of the chair and getting himself into Jamie’s face. He pushed down the collar of Jamie’s shirt, catching a glimpse of the prison tattoo he’d expected. It was elaborate, starting at the base of the neck and there was a crude spade in the design, marking him as a thief. Expected or not, it still angered Jayne. Jamie couldn’t have gotten out more than half a day ago, or Jayne would’ve heard. It took a boatload of courage for Jamie to show his face here and pretend nothing had happened.

“Did Hafeez find you?” Jayne asked, dragging the coffee table across the carpet and sitting on that so he could get closer to eye-level with Jamie.

Jamie nodded.

“He looked out for you?”

Jamie nodded again, but he still didn’t look up.

“He didn’t lay a wrong finger on you, did he?”

Jamie shook his head and Jayne was starting to lose hope for a verbal conversation.

“Longest week of your life, eh?” he joked and Jamie cringed. Jayne never had the right words for Jamie, and he glanced helplessly to the back door. “Won’t you say a word to them?”

Jamie shook his head again, so Jayne resigned himself to sitting and waiting. It was unfair of him to bring this up now, but he’d been worried sick over Jamie and had to call in one of his highest markers to keep the boy safe.

“It was for Serry,” Jamie said softly, pulling his knees to his chest. They’d planned the best time to pull the Osiris heist, but then something had changed with River and the baby, and they’d had to run in three weeks early. Serry was too frail to move. If the Feds made it to the beach house, anyone there would’ve been pinched, River would’ve been put in a bug house, and the baby would now be property of the Alliance. As the months passed, they thought they’d evaded the threat, but then, two weeks ago, something had stirred. Jamie took the hit for them all.

“Let them know what you did for her,” Jayne implored. “They might throw you a ten-cake party.”

“I don’t want a party,” Jamie said irritably. “I don’t want their gratitude. I don’t want to see their guilt and feel their pity, and I don’t want Serry to even sense this debt.”

“You don’t want to be a hero?” Jayne asked. Jamie shook his head Jayne heaved in frustration. “I really don’t get you at all.”

That earned him a weak smile. “Thanks for what you did.”

“It’s not too hard to find a man like you falling into my circles,” Jayne shrugged dismissively, even though getting a ‘thank you’ from Jamie was like winning the lottery. “It’s a puzzle to me. You thank me for what I did because something in that brain of yours tells you I need to hear it, so how come you don’t want no one thanking you? Don’t you think you need to hear it? I didn’t get hurt doing what I did. I didn’t take a bullet, do time, or lose money. I called in a favor. You get pinched. You risk your life and your livelihood to save the rest of us idiots.”

He waited and watched, but Jamie just sat there like all the lights in his brain had gone out. So Jayne stopped trying to convince him, and said simply, “Thanks for what you did.”

If Jamie had his way, there would be no one else who knew to tell him, and Jayne thought it was important that he hear it. It still didn’t seem like enough.

“You’re dad’s got a prison tat,” Jayne offered.

“No he doesn’t,” Jamie said quickly, thinking Jayne was only saying it to cheer him up. It did boggle the mind, but it was a fact.

“He did have,” Jayne insisted. “You know that long scar on his chest from when he got ‘mugged’ back in his school days.”

It was before Jayne had met Simon, but for all the ways he tried to spring his sister and failed, he’d spent more than a few nights in the tank. The story didn’t seem to be doing much for Jamie, so Jayne fell back on the only thing that ever seemed to work – taking Jamie to his dad.

“Come on,” Jayne said, tugging Jamie’s elbow.

“I shouldn’t have come.”

“Walk or I’ll carry you,” Jayne said, but still Jamie didn’t get up. Swiftly, Jayne yanked Jamie’s arm and threw him over one shoulder, but Jamie wriggled away easily. He was too big to be man-handled anymore, but at least Jayne had gotten the boy on his feet. Keeping his arm around Jamie’s shoulders, they walked to the back porch. Jamie’s steps became more and more tentative until he froze, and turned himself away from the crowd. It was far enough. Jayne sat Jamie down on the steps, caught Simon’s eye, and motioned him over.

“Is he bothering you, son?” Simon asked, maintaining a light tone even though he recognized the heaviness of the spirit.

“No, we’re just catching up,” Jamie said glibly, with more confidence and strength than Jayne expected. Simon stepped around them to go inside, but Jayne cleared his throat and shot Simon a look.

“Gin?” Simon offered.

“That sounds good,” Jamie said.

Jayne jumped to his feet and pushed Simon onto the step next to Jamie. “Sit down, gimp. I’ll get it.”

As Jayne turned to go, Jamie grabbed his hand. “Uncle Jayne.”

It was the first time he’d said ‘uncle’ in four years. They looked at each other and and Jayne stared, slack-jawed. Jamie had never looked to him for rescue from anything. Both of them were dumbstruck, at a loss for any appropriate word to follow the gesture. Finally, Jamie let go of Jayne’s hand and looked at his feet.

“Lime, no ice.”

*~*

Jayne had jerked Simon so hard that something in his knee snapped, but he bit back any complaints. The uncomfortable feeling passed quickly, since he was sitting, and he knew Jayne only set him here for Jamie. Simon smiled at his son as the awkward silence hovered between them. He knew there was something serious that needed addressing, but didn’t know where to start. As hunched as Jamie was, Simon still found himself looking up to see his face.

“So is this some experimental growth hormone?” he said sarcastically, reaching up and ruffling Jamie’s hair. “How is it you keep getting taller?”

Jamie shrugged, accepting the light topic. “You know, Grampa Frye is 6'8", and he grew his last twelve inches after he started college.”

Simon pondered the statement. His own father was taller than him. “6'8", huh? And you’re now?”

Jamie held up four fingers.

“Huh,” Simon said, bobbing his head, wondering if there were any way to transition this conversation to get at the reason Jayne had pulled them together.

“Emily has started a pool,” Jamie said with a smile. “I have 50 platinum saying I’ll break seven feet before I turn 23.”

“Seven?” Simon repeated, choking a little. He’d spawned a gorram giant!

Jamie chuckled. “I’m not looking to collect on that either, but the girl needs a college fund. She’s an evil genius, but she won’t show it to anyone without cash up front.”

Simon went quiet. He reached out to touch Jamie’s shoulder, but Jamie swatted at a bug, and they both retracted, letting the silence come between them again.

“Found a treatment that may help your leg,” Jamie mumbled, filling the air with small talk.

“If you mean that article you sent last week, I didn’t much care for the side effects.”

Jamie huffed, and finally relaxed a little. “Yeah. I guess given the choice between chronic leg pain and decreased libido, you’d choose sex with Mom any day.”

“Damn straight.”

Jamie laughed so loudly, he drew the attention of everyone in the yard.

“What?” Simon asked.

“Nothing,” Jamie chuckled, clapping him hard on the back. “I just didn’t expect you to agree with me like that. ‘Damn straight.’”

“What’s so funny?” Jayne asked, coming outside again, handing around the gin.

“Dad’s sex life.”

“New subject,” Simon said, taking a drink quickly to drown his embarrassment.

Jayne shrugged and squeezed next to them on the step so they were packed shoulder to shoulder. “Hey, Doc. A friend of mine – one-leg Billy – wanted to know if you had any sex tips for gimps.”

Simon nearly choked on his drink, and Jayne laughed at him.

“He gets so red,” Jayne guffawed, looking around to Jamie.

“Sorry, dad,” Jamie said, smothering his laughter with the back of his hand.

“No. By all means, laugh at my expense,” Simon said, holding his drink in the air. “One day, you’ll bring a lady home and you’ll be sorry.”

Jamie put an arm around his shoulder and hugged him playfully, but as soon as Simon reciprocated, Jamie pressed against him needily. He felt Jamie flinch, and then caught sight of the reddened skin on Jamie’s neck, where his son had been marked. It was not precision ink work, and Simon knew that that is what Jayne had wanted him to see. He hugged his son a little tighter.

Then Jamie whispered plaintively in his ear, “I love you.”

*~*

Part 9