Title: Pirate Children

Rating: PG (a little bit of Firefly swearing)

Setting: approximately 15 years post-BDM, AU

Pairings: mostly M/I, references to Z/W, S/K, Jayne/Vera

Summary: "After dinner, Serra is yawning and circles are forming under Abram’s deep brown eyes. Inara suggests they ready for bed, and Mal offers to supervise."

Author's Note: Thank you for the amazing response! It's given me the confidence to keep writing. I hope you enjoy this part: it includes your first glimpses of the other children on Serenity.

***

After dinner, Serra is yawning and circles are forming under Abram’s deep brown eyes. Inara suggests they ready for bed, and Mal offers to supervise. “Whoa!” Serra exclaims as she and her father enter the bathroom. “That’s one big tub.” Umm Hafi has already drawn a hot bath in the giant claw foot tub, and Serra excitedly strips off the dark blue sari cut down from one of her mother’s old silk gowns. She throws it at her father and begins to undo her black braids as she hops into the water. Midway through her second braid, she says conversationally: “I don’t think Mama’s mama likes me very much.” Mal, who’s carefully folded Serra’s nicest dress as neatly as he can, looks up at that, searching his daughter’s face for tears. He finds none. Her face is as nonchalant as her voice. She grins at him and ducks her head under the water. When she comes up, she swims over to the side of the tub closest to the low table with all sorts of soaps on it. “She don’t know you yet, Mei-Mei. She’ll like ya fine when she do. You’re more’n a mite likable, dong ma?” Serra shrugs and begins to sniff the different soaps, her expressive face betraying how she feels about each scent. “She likes Abe ‘nough,” she continues. Her speech always becomes less refined around him, as if she can relax a little. Mal must admit that every thing she’s said so far is what he took from dinner as well. What little conversation Mrs. Serra involved herself in was mostly with Abram. It makes sense, though: Abe is handsome, charming, brilliant, well mannered. Put him in fancy clothes and give him a few days with his pretty uncle, and Mrs. Serra could pass him off as Core-born. Serra, on the other hand, was born in and for the Black. She prefers the stars of space to any world, Core or Rim, and has little patience from all things proper. “This one,” she says, holding a small bottle toward him. “Smells like Mama.” Mal smiles, thankful his baby girl seems unfazed by her grandmother’s lack of affection. He sets the dress on the counter and crosses to the tub. “I washin’ that mane o’ yours?” he grins as she hands him the bottle and turns her back to him, shaking the wet black curls in encouragement. “You’re best, ‘sides Mama. Ally and Lolly’re good too, but they get it in my eyes sometimes. Bubba never gets all the soap out, so my head itches.” “Awright, baby-mine. Let’s do this, then,” Mal sighs playfully, kneeling by the tub and rolling his sleeves up. If twenty years ago someone told him he would be so good and experienced at washing pretty dark curls, he would’ve punched him in the face. As he works the jasmine-scented suds into Serra’s hair, she says, “Mama’s not happy.” She’s being very observant tonight. He’s not surprised. “She was happy to see Umm Hafi. And your uncle.” “Fahmy. He’s nice. So’s Umm Hafi. But she isn’t happy to be here, or to see her mama.” “It’s complicated, Mei-Mei. Lots of old hurtin’.” “Like when Uncle Simon talks about Osiris?” “Sorta. Dunk.” She obeys, and he begins to work the soap out of her hair while worrying about her mother. She pops up sputtering. “That was fifteen seconds! My new record.” Mal laughs. “Well, I need ya to do it, again. Still got some in. Your hair’s too thick.” “Alright, Daddy. Let me catch my breath a sec.” “You got it, baby-mine. Wash off all your parts while we wait. Gotta get all of you clean or Mama’ll be on my case.” Serra giggles and does as she’s told before ducking under again. She splashes around for a few more minutes before standing and announcing she’s done. Her grin is impish, and he knows what that means. “Don’t you dare shake out that hair!” he orders, grabbing the towel off the counter and scooping her up before she can disobey. She squeals as he sets her down and dries her off quickly, laughing as she giggles. When he’s done, he wraps the towel around her shoulders snugly, placing wet kisses on each cheek. “Awright, daughter-mine. Your pjs’re on the fluffy bed. Put ‘em on and brush your teeth and then we’ll go say ‘night to Mama. Gonna go check on your brother.” “Okay Daddy,” she smiles, running to fetch her nightgown. Mal goes to the room next door, one of what must be dozens in the gigantic house of his wife’s family. He knocks on the bathroom door. “Ching jin,” is his son’s muffled response. Mal comes in to find Abe rinsing his mouth and spitting in the sink, wet brown hair combed into a pseudo-mohawk, his recent hairstyle of choice. He’s in his pjs already, Blue Sun tee and a pair of hand-me-down sleep pants. “Take that hair down ‘fore you kill your mama,” Mal sighs, passing the boy his comb. “Oh, right. Sorry, habit.” “Figured as much. How you feelin’ after today?” “Fine. Uncle Fahmy’s nice, and our grandma isn’t too bad. Mama’s really uncomfortable, though. I think she just wants to go back to Serenity.” “Yeah, well, I think we’re gonna try to stick it out all three days. We all just gotta help ‘er through this.” Abe nods. “What happened between her and her mom? She seems to like everyone else in this house a lot. I think she and Uncle Fahmy really missed each other. She thinks I look like him.” Mal laughs. “Heard all ‘bout that from Mei-Mei. ‘He’s got Bubba’s ears! And nose!’” Abe smiles. “Do you think I look like him?” “Bits an’ pieces. Also like to think ya look like me, so…” Mal shrugs and lays a hand on Abe’s shoulder. “I don’t rightly know what happened between your ma and grandma, Bubba, but I’m sure she’ll share it with us when it’s time.” “You boys coming?!” Serra cries from the doorway to Abe’s room. Abe rolls his eyes, looking like his mother for a moment. “Renci de Fozu, she’s loud. Comin’, Mei-Mei!” Mal scoops Serra into his arms. She’s too old now for how often he picks her up like that; by seven the other three kids on Serenity were held only when sleepy or hurting. But Serra is quite small for her age and weighs next to nothing, so as long as she’ll let him carry her so close, he’ll take advantage of it. “Didya brush those teeth?” She blows her breath in his face as proof before tucking her head on his shoulder. Serra has energy to spare all day, but when she’s ready to crash, she crashes fast. “And brushed my hair. You forgot.” “Sorry, Your Grace,” Mal teases, kissing the top of her head before walking with Abram to find Inara.

***

“So I’ll bring Sue Ling and Jiang Li over after lunch tomorrow,” Fahmy’s saying, beginning to take his leave for the night, as Mal and the kids appear in the doorway. Inara smiles at the picture they make framed in the archway, Serra’s head resting on Mal’s shoulder, her wet curls dark against her white cotton nightgown, Abram’s arms crossed across his chest in a very Mal-like pose. “Ready for bed, Mama. Came for kisses an’ the like,” Mal says, setting their sleepy daughter on the ground. Mei-Mei pads over to Inara on the low settee next to Fahmy. They were the only two in the room before her family’s arrival, and she looks more relaxed than at dinner. “Where’s your mama?” the little one ask, curling into Inara’s lap. “She already went to sleep, Mei-Mei. It’s late.” “Oh, okay. I wanted to tell her how shiny the bathtub is.” Inara smiles, idly playing with her daughter’s curls. “You can tell her in the morning. And tomorrow afternoon, Fahmy will bring over his daughter. She’s seven, as well.” “Shiny,” Serra yawns. Inara laughs lightly and kisses Serra’s head. “Yes, ‘shiny’. You are ready for bed, little one.” “Mmhmm,” Serra tilts her head up and plants a warm kiss on her mother’s lips. “’Night, Mama. Love you.” “Sweet dreams, Mei-Mei. I love you, too,” Inara hugs the little girl. Serra climbs out of her mama’s lap, stopping to place a brief kiss on a startled Fahmy’s cheek. “’Night, Uncle Fahmy.” Abe hugs and kisses his mother as well, whispering Mandarin endearments. He extends a hand to Fahmy. “Good night, Uncle Fahmy. It was nice to meet you.” “Good night, Abram, Serra.” Mal starts to herd them back to the bedrooms, but Serra stops him. “It’s okay, Daddy. Bubba’ll tuck me in. That he is good at.” “What about readin’ ta me?” Mal objects. “I forgot the book on Serenity. You’ll just have to go to bed without your bedtime story.” Fahmy thinks his sister might snort at this, but the sound is so incongruous with his image of her that he must be imagining it. “Awright. I’ll try.” Serra puckers up and stands on her tiptoes. Mal leans down and meets her lips. “Sleep tight, baby-mine. Only sweet dreams.” “Yes, sir!” She lets go of his neck and salutes. “Love you.” “Love ya, too, Mei-Mei.” Abe kisses his cheek and says goodnight, then hauls Serra onto his back and carries her to bed. Their voices follow them out as they bicker about something.

***

Serra wakes in a nightmare just after midnight. Heart thumping and coughing with sobs, she leans over the edge of her bed to wake Leila Lee and ask if she’ll cuddle. But there’s no bunk under hers, and she remembers where she is as her eyes adjust to the dark. Suddenly the big canopy bed and vast room she was so excited about having to herself seem lonely and terrifying. She slides out of bed, bare feet on the cold tile. She swings the tall door open with much effort, still sniffling, heart racing fear. In the hall, she realizes she can’t remember where Mama and Daddy’s room is. After a moment of the panic, she remembers Abram and runs into his room, jumping onto his bed and snuggling in next to him. He grunts. “Ser-ra…” “I had a nightmare, Bubba,” she sniffles, arms thrown about his middle, face buried in his shoulder. “Mei-Mei,” he sighs, kissing her head. “You’re safe here.” “Can I sleep with you?” Abram sighs again, full of preteen ‘tude. “Sure. What was your dream about?” “Reavers,” she eeps. “Well, you don’t have to worry. No Reavers in the Core.” “Promise?” “Would I lie to you?” She humphs. “About this?” “No,” she sniffs, pitifully. “Right. Go to sleep.” “Mmkay. Love you, Bubba.” “Love you, too, Mei-Mei,” Abe says, wraps his arms around his little sister, and drifts back to sleep.

***

Inara wakes first in the morning to Sihnon sun sneaking in through heavy curtains, the smell of steamed rice filling the room, and Mal snoring. Only one of those things is normal. Slowly opening her eyes, she takes in the bedroom she slept in for the first twelve years of her life. It looks like nothing like it did then. Shifting slightly in Mal’s arms, she tries to find the origin of the smell of the food she had for breakfast every morning until she was twelve. There’s a tray on the nightstand, breakfast for two and a note neatly arranged on it. She tries to wiggle out of her husband’s iron grip around her waist, to no avail. He just snores louder. In the little room he’s given her, she turns over to face him. She’s used to this and knows how to rectify it. After smiling a little at his relaxed expression (he looks more than a little like Abram like this), she pokes his ribs. Hard. “Ow,” he sleepily grumbles, pulling her tighter without opening his eyes. There’s a devilish smile on his face. “Let go. I’m hungry.” “Sorry. Can’t hear ya. I’m asleep.” “Go se, Mal. Let go.” “Nope,” he grins, opening his eyes, bright blue with sleep, and leaning down to press kisses onto her shoulder and neck. “Not without a good mornin’ kiss.” Inara rolls her eyes affectionately, accustomed to his morning clinginess, and kisses him gently. He removes his arms as promised, though slowly and reluctantly. She moves to the nightstand as he sighs and puts his hands behind his head on the pillow. “Umm Hafi’s brought us breakfast.” “Well, ain’t that shiny. How do ya know it was Umm Hafi?” “You’ve now met my mother. Do you think she serves breakfast in bed? And it’s my childhood favorite.” “Right. I like this Umm Hafi woman. I’ll have to thank her later. And hit ‘er up for embarrassin’ little Inara stories.” “Mal…” “Aw, c’mon. You got tons of little Mal stories from Aunt Laney on Shadow. ‘And then little Mal ran straight into the gorram fence and flipped into a ruttin’ pile of manure.’” “The story was a little cleaner when told the first time. And if I remember correctly, you were sixteen. Not so little.” “That mean yearling was chasin’ me! Nasty little hun dan.” Inara laughs and unfolds the note.

//Inara- Umm Hafi and I have taken the children to the park for the morning. They expressed an interest in seeing more of Sihnon. We will return for lunch.//

In a very different script at the bottom it reads: //Baby, Abe and Mei-Mei wanted to go. They’ll be fine.//

She reads both to Mal, obviously angry. “She can’t just take our children without asking! We’re their parents. They’re not hers to parade around the city!” “’Nara, calm down, bao bai. I’m sure they wanted to go, and Bubba knows how to take care of his sister. He’s even more protective than Simon.” “That’s not the point, Mal. She should’ve asked. This is your fault.” “Oh, hey now,” Mal huffs, sitting up straight. “How’s this get blamed on me?” “You’re the one who wanted me to return her wave, who said we should come visit.” “She’s your mama, Inara! And the kids deserve to see where their ma hails from.” “Mal, I left this house when I was Abe’s age. On purpose. I didn’t ever want to come back.” “Why not? You won’t tell me that. You’ve still got people you love here. You and your brother seem more’n a mite comfy with each other, but you didn’t even keep in touch with him. You never even told me you had a brother until he was comin’ dinner!” “I was a Companion, Mal,” Inara sighs. “’Ware of that,” Mal says almost petulantly. “Got nothin’ to do with not sendin’ your brother a wave every now and again. Look, ‘Nara, I know you’ve got lotsa old hurts with your ma, and you’ve told me a little about your pa, but this is good for the kids. All I’ve got to offer as kin is a passel of second and third cousins on Shadow. Here they’ve got a grandma, uncle, cousin. They never got to meet my mama, but here they’ve gotta chance to get to know yours.” He says this all as evenly as possible. As much as he loves riling his wife up, he knows now isn’t the time. She needs him close to get through these three days, just like she gets him through his rough times. He watches her take a deep breath and slip back under the covers, resting her head on his chest. He slips his fingers into her dark curls and drops a kiss on the top of her head. “They have an aunt, too. On Londinium. She’s older than Fahmy and me.” “Huh,” Mal says gently, one hand stroking her hip. “Haven’t mentioned that before.” “Noor hasn’t spoken to me since she found out I was going to be a Companion. My father’s sister was a Companion; she would tell the three of us all about it when she would visit. I loved her, loved her lifestyle, the glamour of it all. Noor hated the whole idea, thought it exploited women, reduced them to commodities.” Mal can’t say he disagrees with Inara’s sister, but he keeps his mouth shut. “When I was eleven, Aunt Kalah took me to House Madrassa to meet with a House Priestess. I came home telling my father that I wanted to be a Companion. A few days later, Kalah and the Priestess came for tea and told Father there was a place from me in House Madrassa as soon as I was of age. It’s a great honor for the family. Noor and Fahmy were gone already, at university, grown up. House Madrassa was so much more inviting that these empty halls. Father, like someone I know, was unable to deny his daughter anything.” Mal smiles at the tease in her voice. “Hey. I wouldn’t let her blow up the ship.” Inara returns, “No, Zoe and Kaylee wouldn’t let her blow up Serenity.” “Awright. Good point. Now, about that breakfast…”

***

Abram and Serra walk a little ahead of Zuri, hands firmly attached. Umm Hafi has returned to the house to start lunch, and the remaining trio is touring the pond side of the park. The little sister points out different flowers and birds, colorful and exotic, and chatters on about what they remind her of. She suddenly breaks off in a sprint, lavender sari fluttering behind her. “Mei-Mei!” Abe calls after her, running after her when she doesn’t respond. She doesn’t go far, scrambling to the top of a boulder next to the pond. “Queen of the hill!” Zuri hears her shout. Abe laughs lightly, “Alright, come on down, please, Mei-Mei.” He extends his arms to lift her down. She stays rooted to the spot “Mei-Mei, Bubba asked nicely,” a new, cultured voice scolds lightly. “Ally!” Serra squeals, leaping from the boulder into the newcomer’s arms. “Oof. Serra, that was a little too enthusiastic. I just saw you yesterday,” the light brown haired woman laughs, setting the girl on the ground. “Where are your parents?” “At the house,” Abram answers, since Serra’s too busy chattering away with the teenage boy and girl accompanying the woman. The woman notices the older woman and comes over to her. “Alistair Caramia, tutor-slash-nanny,” she introduces herself, bowing her head slightly in greeting. “Zuri Serra.” “The grandmother,” Alistair Caramia smiles, then turns on a dime and snaps, “Pon la hermanita abajo. Ahora, Kacey,” towards the four children behind her. The new teenage boy, coffee skin, easy smile, and blue eyes, sheepishly sets Serra back on the ground after holding her high and upside down. The language is vaguely familiar to Zuri, but it is not one often used since the exodus from Earth-That-Was. “Spanish. One of the old Romance languages from Earth-That-Was,” Ally explains to the questioning glance that meets her outburst. “Ally’s taught it to us so that we know who she’s talking to in a crowd of people. And no one knows our business,” the new girl says, stepping forward. She has red-brown hair and clear blue eyes, and she smiles widely and extends a hand, “I’m Leila Lee. That’s Killian getting in trouble back there.” Zuri takes the hand and shakes it briefly. “It is nice to meet all of you.” “Ally was showing Leila Lee and I around her old stomping grounds. Shiny that we ran into you guys.” By this point, Serra’s climbed up onto Killian Washburn’s shoulders. “Didya miss me, Kacey?” “Oh, just terribly, Mei-Mei. All the sunlight has gone out of my life. I’ve fallen into a terrible depression,” Killian mocks. “Bi zui,” Abram cracks back. “You’re probably enjoying the peace and quiet without the Reynolds family aboard.” “Well… Less shouting. Less things being thrown. Also, less amusement. Thankfully, we’re on the ground.” “You two behave,” Ally warns, coaxing Serra off of the boy’s shoulders. “We’ll leave you all to your walk. Sorry to interrupt, Mrs. Serra. Hermanita, dales sus padres nuestros saludos.” Serra hugs Ally once more before the other trio begins to head off. “Miss Caramia,” Mrs. Serra says before they are out of earshot. “Has Inara extended an invitation to your crew for lunch today?” “Yes, ma’am. The crew has duties for today, but if we could take a rain check for tomorrow, we would be honored to be your guests. There are nine of us besides the Reynolds family, though.” “That’s not a problem. Tomorrow then?” “Yes, ma’am. Xie xie. Vamanos, niños.” Alistair Caramia bows her head again, then puts an arm around each of the teens with her and leads them away. Her head is bent low as she says something, and the pair laughs in response. “Shiny,” Serra comments after the three have left. “So, speaking of lunch…” “Mei-Mei… We’ll go back when…” Abram is going to name his grandmother, but suddenly realizes he is unaware of what to call her. “When it’s time. I’ll race you to the top of the rock again?” “If you wish to return to the house, we can,” Zuri says diplomatically, trying ease the awkwardness of the situation. Her daughter is right: these children are not pirates. The girl is more than a little unrefined, yes, but good and sweet and playful. The boy is astounding to her, to be so cultured and intelligent while growing up on a spaceship. And their love for each other is more than evident in everything they do, in the protective flash of Abram’s eyes and the adoring twinkle in Serra’s. She finds herself loving them already. “And your mother called her grandmother ‘lao lao’. If that is of any interest to you.” “Can we do that?” Serra then asks, pointing to the boats on the pond. “Abe can row.” “Well thanks for volunteering, Mei-Mei,” Abram grumbles. Zuri looks to the rowboats for rent along the shore of the pond, then back to the hopeful eyes of her youngest grandchild, eyes so much like Inara’s, but without the disappointment reflecting in them as Zuri remembers in her daughter’s. Her husband used to take Inara out on those boats at least once a week. It seems natural her children are drawn to them as well. “We can do whatever you like. If Abram is up to the row, of course.” “’Course he is. He’s strong. And I’ll help.” “Mei-Mei, you’re probably lighter than the oar,” he grins. “But we’ll see what you can do. Ladies…” He gestures towards the boats. “Come on, lao lao,” Serra says over her shoulder. Zuri follows after her grandchildren, trying not to cry.