Title: Pirate Children Rating: PG (a little bit of Firefly swearing) Setting: approximately 15 years post-BDM, AU Pairings: M/I, Z/W, S/K, Jayne/Vera Summary: "The children’s clothes are simple, but clean and well kept. Zuri Serra is thankful for that at least. She’s not sure she could’ve handled her daughter showing up with two pirate’s children looking like they’d been pulled out of a Black Out Zone on Osiris." Author's Note: This is an AU what-if sort of story, post-BDM where Wash is still alive, and everyone is still living on Serenity, happily ever after (minus, you know, the regular family stuff). So yeah, it's not very realistic at all, but loads of fun. This is my first Firefly fanfic, so please rip me to shreds nicely if I butcher characters. Also, I take quite a few liberties with Mal and Inara's families and pasts, so note the AU.

Part 1

The children’s clothes are simple, but clean and well kept. Zuri Serra is thankful for that at least. She’s not sure she could’ve handled her daughter showing up with two pirate’s children looking like they’d been pulled out of a Black Out Zone on Osiris. Even the pirate Zuri has tried for so long to believe is just a rumor appears fairly well groomed. Inara is as exquisite as ever. The boy is obviously the elder one: twelve Inara said. He is handsome and strong, holds himself with more grace and assurance than most boys his age. He stands a little off from the others, brown eyes examining the sitting room they have been herded into, but he is ever alert and his eyes often shift back to his mother and sister, checking on them. Mrs. Serra sees bits and pieces of her husband and son in the boy’s features, but an even mix of the man standing next to her daughter shows in his face and sandy brown hair. Zuri realizes with a horrific drop in her stomach that she doesn’t even know the boy’s name, or that of his sister. In the whirlwind of information, of confirmation of rumors, she didn’t even bother to ask the names of her newfound grandchildren. Inara, who has been unnervingly still until now, suddenly turns her attention to the small girl at her side. Seven, she’d said, recently. Zuri’s daughter taps the little one on the chin. Inara’s daughter opens her mouth obligingly, and Mrs. Serra watches in amazement as her youngest, the girl born to grace, raised in poise, and refined to perfection, scoops a pinky under the child’s tongue and removes a bright green glob looking suspiciously like chewing gum. The girl is glitteringly sheepish. Inara’s nose wrinkles in mock-disgust. “We’ve talked about this, Mei-Mei. It’s a distasteful habit. Where’d you get this?” “Daddy,” the little girl grins. “Hey now!” Inara’s pirate-husband objects. “Whatcha rattin’ on me for, baby-mine?” The girl just keeps grinning, and the boy snickers. “Mal…” Inara sighs, extending the gum towards him. “I kept the wrapper,” the husband defends sheepishly, fishing said paper from his pocket to retrieve the offending substance from his wife’s finger. “You know I can’t resist the pout. It’s too gorramn cute.” “Daddy! Language!” the little girl giggles. This bright exclamation brings Mrs. Serra’s attention to her youngest grandchild. Truly seeing her for the first time, Zuri is immediately struck by the replica she is of Inara: the endless black curls, the big brown eyes, the natural grace. But there’s a wildness in this one’s eyes, a spark of untamable spirit no child raised like a Serra could keep for long. Certainly not until seven. Not that Inara wasn’t spirited as a girl; she was just tamed by the life she was born into. The pirate stirs restlessly, leaning down to whisper in Inara’s ear something not picked up by the security camera’s microphone, and Zuri realizes she’s been watching them for ten minutes, unable to face her wayward daughter and the family she’s created. She composes herself and moves into the lounge. As she enters, she sees both the pirate and the boy take a protective step closer to the girls. Her daughter stiffens, and though Inara and the pirate are not touching, it is obvious they are holding each other up. The girl takes a step back into her mother, fists bunching in the silk of Inara’s skirts. The boy stands up straighter. “Mother.” “Inara.” They all stand perfectly still until the little one brightly says, “Hi!” “Hello,” Zuri can’t help but smile. “I’m Serra Alleyne Reynolds,” the girl introduces, stepping away from her mother cautiously. “Are you Mama’s mama?” Her words are spoken plainly and clearly, just vaguely tainted by a Rim-world accent. Her ‘I’s are a little longer that proper. Barely noticeable. “Yes I am. It is nice to finally meet you.” “This is Bubba,” Serra (Zuri’s heart can’t help but swell at that name) says, motioning to her older brother. The Rim slang endearment startles the grandmother for a moment, and the boy looks a little embarrassed as he looks to his mother quickly. He takes three steps forward and extends his hand. “It’s actually Abram Derrial Reynolds, ma’am.” As Zuri meets the boy’s eyes and takes his hand, Serra interjects, “Well, Mama and Daddy and I call you ‘Bubba’, Abe. She’s family, too.” When Zuri looks to see her daughter’s response to this, she notices her son-in-law barely with-holding a smirk. “Right ya are, daughter-mine. Good thing ya got yer Mama’s smarts.” “Thank Buddha!” Serra squeals, moving to slip her arms around her father’s legs. The pirate sets her on his hip and, with a look to his wife, moves to join his son. He extends his hand as he says, “Captain Malcolm Reynolds, ma’am. I have the honor of bein’ these two little rascals’ daddy. I’m real glad they’ve got the chance to meet their grandmama. It’s nice to have those around.” “Zuri Serra,” she says, “But I’m sure you already knew that Captain Reynolds. Leo,” she calls to the butler waiting in the doorway, “Please escort Captain Reynolds, Abram, and Serra to the lunch table. Are you hungry?” Serra nods enthusiastically. “Right this way,” Leo directs, opening the door. All three pause and turn to Inara. “I’ll be right there. Save me some.” The pirate holds her eyes a moment longer, then smiles encouragingly. “Better hurry, Mama. I can already hear Mei-Mei’s tummy rumblin’. Thought it was a ship enterin’ atmo.” “Daddy!” Malcolm Reynolds chuckles and sets his daughter on the ground. She immediately latches onto Abram’s hand, leading him after Leo. One last look in Inara’s direction and the captain follows. Once they’re gone, Zuri says, “Your son’s name is Abram.” “Father was a good man. I see him in Abe.” “And your daughter’s name is Serra. So despite cutting off all contact with your family, the names of both of your pirate children honor your roots.” “They are not pirates,” Inara says coolly, “And the next time you insult the sweet children attempting to let you into their heart and the man, my husband, putting himself in an uncomfortable situation for them, we all walk out of this house and never come back. They are good, bright, happy children. Our past issues will not, in any way, affect your interactions with them.” The last part is neither question nor order. It is a statement. The Companion cool that disappeared around her mate and children leaps back to the forefront. Her face is as serene as ever. “Fahmy’s coming for dinner.” “Then let’s hope we can make it that long.”

***

Though Mei-Mei was very enthusiastic about lunch when the idea was introduced, the elaborate formality of the spread before her seems to suddenly dissolve her hunger. Her brother, sensing her discomfort, tries to smile encouragingly, but is a bit overwhelmed as well. It is also a little unnerving to see his little sister so quiet, eyes like saucers as she takes in her surroundings. “Is there something wrong with your food?” their grandmother asks. “No’am,” Abe answers quickly, “Just… more than we usually see at once. Food and silverware.” He looks to his mama to see if this is an acceptable response. Before arriving, she had combed her fingers through his hair, dusted off his jacket shoulder, and informed him just be himself, as politely as possible. (And to, “Try and keep your father under control,” beautiful smile gracing her face). He hopes not to let her down, though Daddy’s on better behavior that Abram’s ever seen, so that part’s easy. “Don’t worry about that, Bubba,” Inara says gently. “Just pick one utensil. And try to stay with the fruit and vegetables. Only a little bit of meat.” Mal, amazingly enough playing mediator, smiles at his mother-in-law. “The kids’ stomachs are used to mostly processed protein, so rich foods’re a little rough on the system. Fresh food is a real treat for ‘em.” He says it diplomatically, to try to ease the tension, but it only serves to make the lady of the house more uncomfortable, reminding her of the difficult life her daughter as chosen. Zuri smiles as politely as possible, watching Serra begin to nervously pick at her food. Beside the girl, Inara leans over to whisper something in her ear. When done, she drops a kiss on the girl’s temple. Serra grins, kisses her mama’s cheek in return, earning a warm smile from Inara, and digs less nervously into the salad on her plate.

***

After lunch, Mrs. Serra has the butler show the Reynolds to their rooms. “Before we go, Miss Inara,” Leo says as soon as Zuri has taken her leave. “I believe there’s someone who’d like to see you in the kitchen.” Inara wrinkles her brow and throws a confused look at her husband, who shrugs in response. Serra’s hand firmly in her, she nods to the butler and they all follow him back into the kitchen. The atmosphere there is warmer, livelier, a staff of three taking care of the dishes with vibrant conversation as background. Inara recognizes the largest and eldest of the women, and her face breaks out in the genuine smile she usually saves for the crew of Serenity. “Umm Hafi. I cannot believe you’re still here,” she says, and Mal thinks there may be tears in her eyes. The woman appears to be of similar descent to Inara, but with little refinement and only the dignity of age. She looks up from the washing and gasps, immediately breaking into sobs. Mal takes Serra’s hand as it slips from Inara’s, and Umm Hafi moves around the kitchen island faster that he believed possible to envelop Inara in her arms. “Oh my baby,” the woman continues to sob into Inara’s curls. “I never thought I’d see you again.” This was the reunion between a long-lost daughter and mother that should have taken place in the sitting room. They stay entangled for infinite minutes, until a confused and rather bored Serra asks: “Mama?” Inara pulls herself out of the woman’s arms and wipes the tears from her face. “I’m sorry, Mei-Mei,” she grins to assure the child that everything’s okay. “These are my baby’s babies? Oh, they’re beautiful, Inara. She’s the image of you as a little one.” “Abram and Serra,” Inara says, “This is Umm Hafi. She raised me.” This, which Mal has already guessed, makes the captain smile. “Mal Reynolds,” he introduces himself, extending a hand. Umm Hafi steps forward and hugs him in response. “The husband! Oh, he is handsome, baby. He takes good care of you?” “And vice versa,” Mal smiles, meeting Inara’s eyes. She’s visibly brightened. “It’s nice to meet you, ma’am,” Abram says, clearing his throat in an attempt to keep the pubescent squeak out. He mostly succeeds. With that, Umm Hafi releases Mal and grabs a startled Serra and Abram into her arms. Serra happily returns the embrace, Abe a little awkwardly. “Abram and Serra are heavy names for children. What do they call you?” she asks as she sets them down. “Mei-Mei,” Serra answers. “Almost all the time.” “Yeah,” Abram says, relaxing. “When she was a baby she thought that was her name. Either that or ‘No!’” Inara laughs lightly, and Mei-Mei objects: “Hey! Knock it off, Bubba!” Abram grins. “Bubba?” Umm Hafi smiles. “Is that what they call you?” “Mama, Daddy, and Serra. Everyone else calls me Abe.” “Abe and Mei-Mei, then. I’m sure you’re not hungry after lunch, but would you like something to drink?” “Well, may I have another strawberry, please?” Mei-Mei asks, looking to her mother for permission. “One more,” Inara allows. Mei-Mei grins happily and follows Umm Hafi around the island to retrieve the fruit. “Anyone else?” the vibrant woman asks. “No, thank you, ma’am.” “They’re well-mannered, too, baby. You’ve raised them well.” Inara smiles and smoothes Abram’s hair. “I had a good role model.” Umm Hafi’s eyes well with tears again. “You’ll have to tell me all about what’s happened since you left this house.” “I’ll help you fold laundry, later,” Inara beams as Leo comes back to lead them to their rooms. The children and Inara follow him, Mal passing a thankful look to the woman before turning to follow them. Umm Hafi stops him with a strong hand on his shoulder. “She seems happy.” “I think so,” Mal returns, eyes following his family. “She left this house at twelve, and of the three times she’s returned, this is the first she’s appeared to have anything left of the child I raised in her.” “Huh,” Mal smiles. “I bet she was a cute young’en.” “You need only look at your daughter to know that. Looking at her brings me back many years.” “She wild, too?” “There’s always been fire in her.” “Yup. Knew it wasn’t just from me. Kids’ve got a double dose a willful an’ wild.” “Daddy, we lost you!” Serra bubbles back through the door. Mal scoops her up as she giggles, a final nod to Umm Hafi as he leaves the kitchen in search of his family.

***

Fahmy Serra decided to leave his wife and daughter at home tonight. If all went well tonight, he would bring Sue Ling by tomorrow to meet her cousins. He had little hope that tonight would go well. He is the only Serra who has remained closely connected to the home of his birth, and for the past fifteen years, the only one to live on Sihnon. Seeing his wayward baby sister, eight years his junior, is not something he is looking forward to terribly. At least Noor, his elder sister who relocated to Londinium following her graduation from university, remains in contact with their aging mother and visits regularly. No Serra has previously heard from Inara since the day she visited at the completion of her training. Fahmy also believes that any trace of the frustrating little sister he once adored and doted upon is gone, erased by years of Guild training she chose over the family at age twelve, a betray for which Noor, twenty-two at the time, would never speak to her again. Noor found the entire Companion tradition degrading and repulsive. //“Our baby sister has chosen to become a glorified whore and you’ve no objection?”// Noor and Inara both had Serra tempers, where Fahmy had a more even head. The girls, ten years apart, had never been close, either. And the girl of sixteen who returned to the Serra home for their father’s funeral was not the little sister Noor and Fahmy watched grow. She was silent and composed during the wake and stayed for only a week of mourning before returning to her studies. She did her duties well, but with no emotion. It was disturbing for Fahmy to watch, especially since Inara had once been the light of Abram Serra’s life, and she endlessly devoted to her abbi. Even Umm Hafi noticed the difference in the girl. Or perhaps especially Umm Hafi. In sending her to House Madrassa as she asked, they lost the youngest Serra. “Good evening, Mr. Serra,” the butler greets at the door, taking his cloak. “Dinner is on in the dining room in ten minutes.” Fahmy nods and enters his childhood home. A flash of deep blue catches his eye, and his peripheral follows it. It stops, and Fahmy’s eyes focus, his heart filling his throat. He must be seeing things, for his little sister stands breathlessly in the doorway, all of six or seven, twin French braids and all. “Hello,” she grins, the expression unlike any Fahmy ever saw on young Inara’s face. “Hello,” Fahmy responds on instinct. He realizes in a flash that this must be Inara’s daughter. He didn’t ask his mother how many children his sister now had, nor their ages, names, or genders. How many little Inaras are running around? “Who are you?” the child asks. He smiles inwardly; Sue Ling will love a cousin her age. “I’m Fahmy. And you?” “Serra. Serra Reynolds.” Fahmy is shocked by the girl’s name. Perhaps Inara’s heart has not so completely deserted the family. “Then I believe I am your uncle.” Serra eyes him, perplexed. She motions him to come closer. He takes a knee beside her, and she brushes his thick black hair behind each ear. “You have my brother’s ears. And his nose.” “Your brother?” Fahmy asks, standing. “Yep. Abram. He’s twelve.” “Any more brothers? Sisters?” “No, sir. Just me and Bubba.” Well that certainly changes some things. “Mei-Mei? Mei-Mei, come wash your hands before dinner, please.” He hears footsteps echo against the tile floors, and then his sister enters the foyer. “There you are. Go wash up, please. Bubba’s waiting to help you reach… Fahmy?” Inara Serra is a hard woman to forget, but this woman is completely unfamiliar to Fahmy. The same face, barely marred by age, and the same grace and poise, but there is a freedom in her not present even in childhood. She smiles affectionately at her daughter as she breezes into the foyer, Sihnon sun warm in her dark, loose curls. Sihnon has always looked good on her. She is not the child he kissed as she climbed into the car to House Madrassa, pressing his face into her hair and holding her small frame tight against his chest, uncharacteristic tears in his throat. Nor is she the ever-composed Companion over her two later visits to the Serra house. He came prepared to be angry with her, to receive a cold shoulder and give one in return. He is not prepared for this, for the emotion thick in his gut as he watches his mei-mei play with her daughter’s braids. “This is your brother, Mama? Your Bubba?” “Yes, baby. You can talk to him more at dinner. Please go wash your hands and join Daddy at the table.” So she’s brought the pirate along. In this resurgence of fraternal affection, he’s not sure if he wants to kill the man for the changes he’s wrought or if he wants to shake his hand in gratitude for freeing Inara. What is she like, this man who’s stolen his sister’s heart? “Fahmy?” she asks again, reminding him that she’s real and in front of him. “Inara. It… It’s good to see you.” And oh, it is. Better than he expected. “You too.” She smiles genuinely. There. There’s the child he let walk away so long ago. She shows no sign of anger towards him, and why should she? She’s not heard the hateful, angry things he’s said in his heart while she’s been away. Her memories are all playful moments and goodbyes. They never argued, not even as children, not even when she decided to leave home at twelve, not even when she stood emotionless through the funeral ceremonies. How could he argue with her? She was his mei-mei, and he thought she was perfect. But he was wrong. She wasn’t perfect then, just a well-place mask of perfection. Now, she was perfect. Smiling, glowing. “Mother said you’ve married, that you have a daughter,” she says, breaking his reverie. “Yes. Sue Ling. She’s seven.” “Serra turned seven two weeks ago,” Inara beams. “Where’s your family?” “Home. We’ll stop by tomorrow so the girls may meet.” “Good. And I want to meet the woman who’s captured you.” Fahmy smiles outwardly for the first time. “And may I meet the man you’ve captured, mei-mei?” She grins at the endearment. “I suppose there’s no way around it.” “Serra tells me you have a son as well. Named after Father.” “Yes. He looks a little like you and Father. He’s extremely bright. He wants to be a doctor.” There is so much pride in her voice as she discusses her boy. “He’s the Serra heir.” Inara focuses on him sharply. “Excuse me?” “Father’s will, and now Mother’s as well, states that all of the money is to pass to the eldest grandchild. While we thought that was Sue Ling, Abram has about five years on her.” He pauses a moment and lets out a short laugh. “I still can’t believe you have children, mei-mei. One older than mine.” She’s stiffened with the talk of money, but when he changes the subject slightly, she relaxes a little. “’Nara?” a man’s voice interrupts before she can continue the conversation. “Your ma says dinner’s ready. Oh, uh, hi.” “Mal, this is my older brother, Fahmy. Fahmy, this is Mal Reynolds.” Reynolds extends his hand, which Fahmy accepts. The pirate isn’t what he expected. He isn’t dirty and doesn’t seem crass. Lower class, definitely, but clean, shaved, collared shirt and khaki pants. He is wearing suspenders, however, which is odd. He seems to be about Fahmy’s age maybe a year or two older or younger. “It’s nice to meet you,” Fahmy says, and it’s the truth. It’s nice to find out his sister hasn’t married a complete barbarian. The other man smile in greeting, saying, “You too.” Fahmy recognizes the grin on Reynolds’s face as the unfamiliar expression he noted upon Serra’s face earlier. “So, dinner… It’s not right to keep the mother-in-law waitin’. Nor let Mei-Mei alone with her for long. No knowin’ what manner of scandalizin’ she’ll have accomplished by the time we get there,” Mal smiles at his wife, offering her his arm. “Don’t worry: I washed it.” Inara rolls her eyes, but accepts the arm. Fahmy follows behind. At dinner, Fahmy notices some of Inara’s old Companion cool reassert itself, not towards her husband or children, nor even really towards him. Just towards their mother. There was never much extra affection between Inara and Zuri Serra. Zuri spent most of Noor’s childhood praying for the consummate little girl, but by the time Inara was born, she was too exhausted from the demands of a willful tomboy and an eight-year-old boy to raise another child, even the one she hoped for for so long. Umm Hafi raised Inara until twelve, when she left for House Madrassa. It was their father’s decision to let her go, knowing the only drawback was the loss of his baby girl. But he was old by then, getting sicker by the year. Looking back now, Fahmy suspects that Abram Serra didn’t want his beloved ray of light to watch him fade away. Inara wasn’t told her was sick until the two weeks before he died. She didn’t say goodbye. To distract himself from the ice between mother and sister, Fahmy finds himself in conversation with the Serra heir. The boy is charming, polite, very intelligent. Inara was right about his smarts. He finds Abram remarkably well read, as well, especially for being raised on a spaceship. When Fahmy makes a comment to that effect, Abram laughs lightly and smile like his mother. “Ally’s hard on us.” “Ally?” “Our tutor. We have class with her five and a half days a week, all day. That’s how we stay busy in the Black. Keeps Mei-Mei from blowing up Serenity.” “I wouldn’t blow up Serenity. Not on purpose,” the little one objects, picking up the stir-fry with chopsticks awkwardly large from her small hand. “Maybe ya know our tutor, Fahmy. She’s from ‘round these parts. Alistair Caramia. She’s a great teacher.” No wonder the children are so well educated, Fahmy thought, They have a Caramia tutor. The Caramias are the intelligentsia of the aristocracy of Sihnon. The last name alone is enough to get a professorship at any university in the Core, and they run over half the departments in the University of Sihnon. They were a large family, all of them bred to be absolutely brilliant. “I’ve heard of her. I studied under her grandfather and still meet with him occasionally. She graduated early and went to teach on the Rim. An unprecedented move.” So Miss Caramia probably has much in common with Fahmy’s younger sister. “She’s great,” Serra beams. “Mama, can she bring Kacey and Lolly over tomorrow? They should meet everybody, too.” “Kacey and Lolly?” Zuri Serra asks, breaking her relative silence. Who were they? The pirate’s love children they were too embarrassed to bring along? “Killian Cobb Washburn and Leila Lee Tam. The other two children aboard Serenity. Kids of my crew.” “Lolly’s thirteen-and-a-half,” Serra announces, “She’s a teenager.” “Oh, yes she is,” Mal groans, “Full attitude an’ all.” “Kacey’s fourteen-and-a-half. He’s really tall,” Serra continues. “They are all welcome to come to lunch tomorrow,” Zuri says, relieved. “I would like to meet your friends, Inara.” “I’ll be sure to extend the invitation,” Inara responds politely. “But they may be very busy restocking and refueling the ship.” “Yep, it’s a lot of work to keep Serenity flying,” Serra says, “And when you turn ten, you have to start pulling your weight.” “Which means you’ll still be doing nothing, Runt,” Abram teases, grinning at his sister affectionately. There is a closeness between them, Zuri notes. Noor and Fahmy had a similar bond as children. “Works for me,” Serra grins. “Oh, I don’t think so, baby-mine. You’ll be doin’ plenty when yer time comes.” While Fahmy can see that his mother is a little horrified by the talk of child labor, he can’t help but find the whole thing as sounding like an amazing adventure. He was an avid reader in childhood and often entertained dreams of escaping on a spaceship. Everything he heard today sounds like one big adventure story his sister has a starring role in.

To be continued...

Because I know when I read futurefic the kids' names are hard to keep track of, here you are: Killian Cobb "Kacey" Washburn, 14.5 years old Leila Lee "Lolly" Tam, 13.5 years old Abram Derrial "Bubba" Reynolds, 12 years old Serra Alleyne "Mei-Mei" Reynolds, 7 years old