Title: Shadow Rating: pretty G for now Characters: the whole crew, plus toddlers Kacey and Lolly, Baby Abey Pairings: Heavy on the M/I, trying not to neglect the rest of canon (S/K, Z/W, J/Vera) Summary: Set 4 years post-BDM, Mal and the crew has a job on Shadow. Author's Note: As has been stated in earlier PC fics, I'm playing with Mal's and Inara's histories here. In this fic, this means that Mal still has family on Shadow and that Shadow isn't a dead rock, as I've heard tell. I'm working on two other PC stories at the moment, but this one is getting the most attention. I know people wanted more of the kids (and they'll get them eventually) but I wanted to try my hand at more of the series characters this time. It's an experiment. Please be constructively critical.

***

Laney Reynolds Stokes lives a simple life on Shadow. She and her husband run a cotton plantation on the river with their six children and ten grandchildren (and counting, liable to be eleven any moment now). She wasn’t raised to be a cotton planter, but after marrying Silas Stokes, heir to the largest plantation on the St. Mary’s River, she left the grassy ranch of her youth, taking her younger brothers, Jack and Emmerson, along. Her younger sister Margaret stayed on the ranch, raised a little boy of her own, and passed away shortly after the War of Unification. Despite the size of the plantation, the Reynolds-Stokes family live moderately, working their own fields alongside hired day laborers and making most of their own clothes. Life is just simpler that way, and Laney’s family has always been about simple. She doesn’t think about Maggie very much, doesn’t have time to between playing matriarch, seeing to the books, and stopping her grown brothers’ squabbling, but every time she does think of her baby sis, she wonders on the nephew she hasn’t seen since his mama’s funeral. The boy disappeared the moment the funeral was over, stoic lady friend in tow, and hasn’t been home since. From the few times she saw him growing up, she knew he was a sweet boy, loyal to his mama and hard-working. He broke Maggie’s heart when he joined up, but she believed as heartily in the Independent cause as her impetuous son and let him go. He only made it home once before she died right after the Battle of Serenity Valley. “Nana,” little Kenna Stokes pulls her out of daydreaming, tugging on her skirts. “Nana, somethin’s burnin’.” Laney stands suddenly, pushing away from the kitchen table and hurrying over to the stove. She sighs. She’s getting too easily distracted in her old age. “Alright, Kenna, you wanna help Nana make some more cookies? These are goners.”

***

It was a perfectly wonderful day until this moment. Abe is finally sleeping through most of the night, which means everyone is relatively well rested and happy in the morning, and today Mal started off with a leisurely breakfast with wife and son. Aside from an unfortunate, and highly amusing, projectile rice cereal incident that had him changing his shirt already, his morning was absolutely wonderful, culminating in a highly profitable job offer around eleven. The crew could use the safe, semi-legal cash since things have been a little tight since the arrival of Serenity’s third tiny mouth to feed. But at this moment, a gigantic wrench is being thrown in his splendid day. “I’m sorry… You want me to transport cotton from where?” “Shadow,” his contact, Chiang Paul, says, confusion tinting his voice. “Mal, this job is perfect for you. You’re a local boy: they’ll love that. And it’s safe. Maybe breaking a few tariff laws, but there’s so much cotton pouring out of the St. Mary’s region these days, no one’s lookin’ too closely. You can’t do better: the Stokes family owns the biggest cotton plot on the river.” Mal feels his blood rush to his head, pounding in his ears. “The Stokes place?” “Yeah. Ever heard of it? Nice big family runs it…” Has he heard of it? Hell, he’s seen it. He has memories of jumping off that old dock house into the cool river below, hollering all the way down with his cousins, laying on his back and letting the current carry him back to the ladder, studying the sun filtering through the Spanish moss-laden live oaks, his mama and Aunt Laney sitting on the bluff and gabbing like the sisters they were. They are some of the best memories of his early life, that handful of trips to his aunt’s home. “Mal, you okay?” “Fine,” Mal says, snapping up. “Sorry, Paul. I’m not sure I can take this job.” “Why not, Mal?” the part-Sino man objects, leaning closer into the screen. “This job is perfect. The Stokeses are mighty picky about their transporters, but you’re a sure bet to win ‘em over quick! You’re a family man now, Mal; you’re not gonna get another offer this safe that has this big of a take.” “How much?” Mal asks, swallowing, thinking of how quickly Kacey and Lolly are outgrowing their clothes, how many diapers his baby boy goes through in a day. Chiang Paul utters a figure that knocks Mal back into the pilot’s seat. “Aiya! For cotton?!” “Natural’s in on Londinium and Sihnon, so the textile mills on Harvest and Three Hills are ordering triple their usual in fine Shadow-raised cotton. Can’t find better quality in the ‘verse. And of all the cotton on Shadow, ain’t none better than St. Mary’s cotton.” Mal sighs, takes a deep breath. “Alright, Paul. I’ll let my crew know and get back to you with an ETA.” Chiang Paul is over the moon, telling Mal how much money they’re going to make on this and thanking him profusely. Mal manages to end the conversation quickly and retreat. He finds himself in the cargo bay, leaning against some piled crates while he thinks about Shadow and how much he really doesn’t want to go back there. But the take’s too good, and he’s got more mouths than ever to feed. He feels eyes on him and looks up. The sight that greets him momentarily takes his mind off of everything, his two angels on the catwalk above, Abe contentedly on Inara’s hip, a smile on his wife’s face but worry in her eyes, their son’s tiny hand tangled in her long curls. Inara whispers something in Abe’s ear and points to Mal. The ten-month-old gives a gap-toothed grin and chatters: “Da-da-da-da-da.” “Up already?” Mal questions, putting on his best “everything is fine” face. He knows it is pointless to try and fool a trained Companion, especially one who knows him so well, but he knows the effort will at least help convince her to hold off questioning for a while. He quickly climbs the steps, and Inara meets in the middle of the catwalk, Abe stretching out for him. “’Morning, Bubba. Good nap?” Abe lets for a string of baby babble, and Mal chuckles despite his worry, taking the infant from his wife and pausing to kiss her temple in the process, lost in the rightness of the three of them together. “You get a word of that?” Mal asks, brow quirked. “Excellent nap, thank you, Daddy. Loosely translated,” Inara says dryly. “You keep surprising me, woman. You speak baby, huh?” “Fluently.” She furrows her brow, studying him, then demands. “What is it?” Mal bounces Abe gently, focusing on the boy while he forms a response. “Got a call from Chiang Paul. He’s got a job for us. A good one.” Her eyes narrow as she studies him. “That’s wonderful. We’re getting a little behind… What’s the problem, Mal?” Mal sits down, Abe in his lap. Inara joins him, gracefully draping her legs over the side. “It’s haulin’ cotton. Off Shadow. Off my aunt’s plantation on Shadow, more specifically.” Inara pauses, caught off guard. Mal has dropped very few hints about his past in their years together. It is an understanding they have, that whatever their lives were like before is unimportant, that in order for them to work there can be no pressure to share their secrets. Each is more than willing to listen when the other is feeling truthsome, but questions are rare and innocent. She takes a breath. “I didn’t… I didn’t realize you still had family on Shadow. You told me about your mother, that she…” “Yeah, right after Serenity Valley.” Abe squirms, reaching for his mama, and Mal hands him off with a kiss on the top of his soft, dark hair. “My aunt, she married into one of the cotton families on the river, brought my two uncles with her when she moved. They all kinda reestablished themselves as river folk, but my ma stuck to the ranch, raised me. Got gobs of cousins. Only visited them a couple times growin’ up…” Inara lifts their antsy ten-month-old onto her shoulder, tickling his belly slightly, and chooses her next words as carefully as possible. “Mal… we don’t have to…” “Yes, we do,” Mal cuts back, avoiding her eyes. “There are other jobs…” “You said yourself that we’re comin’ up short, and you’d know best. We need this. It’s safe. Legal-ish.” “But we can make do, Mal.” “I don’t want y’all to ‘make do’,” Mal responds, voice louder, harsher than he likes. Abe gives a little start, turning wide dark eyes to his daddy. Mal adds softly, with a gentle pat on the boy’s rump: “Sorry, Bubba. Look, everyone on this boat works hard, an’ if we can get good work paying this kinda money, I can’t turn it down. An’ you and Abe deserve more than scraping by. When it’s unavoidable, that’s one thing, but if I can help it…” “Mal…” “Takin’ the job. No reason not to. Now if you two’ll excuse me for a few moments,” he says with a kiss for each, “I’m gonna go consult with my pilots and first mate. Lunch in an hour?” “Sure,” Inara says, hesitantly, still studying him as he rises and offers her a hand. “Think we can lay off the flinging of food this time, Bubba?” he asks their son, making a silly face. Abe giggles and babbles in response, grabbing for Mal’s nose. “I’m holdin’ you to that,” Mal says seriously to the infant. Then he looks to Inara and gives her a reassuring smile. “That was a yes, right? Loosely translated, o’ course.” “Roughly, yes. But he’s making no promises.” Mal chuckles and leaves them with a final smile that seems mostly genuine. He pauses at the stairs up to the bridge and turns to look at his wife. “We’ll, uh, talk more later.”

***

“Wash, have you seen Mal?” Inara asks, breezing into the kitchen in search of husband and son. Taking their attention away from the dinosaurs lined up on the long dining table, Wash and Kacey look up at her, twin smiles in place. Three-and-a-half-year-old Kacey looks to be fresh out of the bath, dino pjs on, tight curls still a little wet. “I think he’s on the bridge, Inara. Saw him take Abe up there a little while back.” “Thank you. What are you two up to?” “Dinos!” Kacey tells her with a giggle, blue eyes bright, grabbing a T-rex and waving him at her. “Oh, of course,” Inara smiles, brushing a hand over his curls and tugging on his ear gently. Kacey laughs and shakes his head. “Kacey, time for bed,” Zoe calls from the crew quarters. Kacey pouts momentarily, then calls back, “Yes, Mommy! Will ya tell me a story, Daddy?” “Of course,” Wash says, scooping the boy up and flying him around. “Say goodnight to your aunt first.” “’Night, Aun’ ‘Nara,” Kacey sings as Wash flies him up to her. He puckers up adorably, and Inara grants him a goodnight kiss before he soars off to bed, his distinct belly laugh echoing down the hall. Inara follows a few minutes after, climbing the stairs to the bridge. She finds Mal and Abe in the pilot’s chair, passed out cold. Mal is even snoring, Abe curled up on his chest. She’s surprised that Mal can relax enough to sleep, but pauses to enjoy the view. “You just gonna stare or you gonna join us?” Mal cracks his eyes just enough to see her smiling affectionately at them. He expertly shifts Abe over to the far right and extends his left arm for her to curl up with them. She shoots him a skeptical look, but he gestures again for her to join them, and she acquiesces, sliding into his lap. Head on Mal’s shoulder and hand on Abe’s back, she closes her eyes and enjoys the moment. This isn’t the life she was supposed to lead, the life prescribed for her. Even if she hadn’t entered a training house at twelve, her life would have been drastically different, a stuffy marriage to a social equal, children raised to be perfect little citizens of the Alliance, pawned off on nannies. And Companions usually don’t marry, don’t have children. She certainly hadn’t planned on it. But she wouldn’t trade her life now for all of the riches on Londinium, all the beauty and security of House Madrassa. “Be on Shadow in three days,” Mal says, voice rough and deep from sleep, his words heard as much through her bones as her ears. His left arm tightens around her waist. She opens her eyes and tilts her head to look at him, not pressing, knowing it will come. “My, uh, my aunt doesn’t know I’m the one comin’ yet. Debating whether or not to send her a wave. What’s your thinking on the matter?” His voice is soft, as not to wake Abram. “It’s your family, Mal, your decision.” “Your family, too, now. I seem to remember some vows we took to that effect.” She returns his playful grin with a soft smile and runs her fingers down his cheek, settling on his chest. Before she can respond, though, a lithe figure materializes beside them, as if out of nowhere. “I’ll take Abram,” River says quietly, gesturing to the infant with her unique brand of lucidity. Mal tenses a little: he still has some PDA issues, but to his credit, he doesn’t dump her or their son onto the ground. River sounds like she’s offering assistance, but Inara has been studying River with Abram over the past ten months and knows there are selfish motives as well, that River feels more relaxed with Abram, and to a lesser extent the other children, that they keep her relatively sane. “Uh, sure,” Mal says, handing the sleeping infant off. “Thanks, River. If he wakes up, there’s a…” “Bottle in the refrigeration unit. I know. Done this before.” Abe, still asleep, curls into River’s shoulder as he settles down. He fits well there. Inara gives her a warm smile. “We’ll find you, when you’re done,” the younger woman announces. And River disappears as silently and gracefully as she came. “Well, that’s always more’n a mite strange.” Inara laughs gently and settles her head back onto his shoulder. “So, you were about to say…” Mal leads, fingers running up and down her spine. “It’s your call, Mal. But she might like to hear from you. She’s going to know eventually; it’s just a question of when and how.” “An’ it may be less of a shock via cortex rather than when I step off the boat,” Mal finishes, seeing her logic. “But this is your choice, Mal.” “Best take advantage of it, then, seein’ as that’s a rare occurrence in this marriage,” he teases, earning a sharp poke in the ribs that he returns with a kiss.

***

“Hello, you’ve reached the Stokes’ residence. Please leave a recorded wave and we’ll get back to you as soon as possible.” “Um, hey Aunt Laney. This is Malcolm, your nephew…”

TBC