Title: Mischief

Rating: PG. For mischief and a little cursin'. Shh, don't repeat that in front of Mei-Mei.

Characters: the whole crew, plus the Pirate Children and Alistair Caramia (the latter are mine, the rest are Joss's)

Pairings: Canon pairings. I generally lean towards M/I, but this one is not as shippery as Shadow or any of the others. This is more about the kids.

Summary: Yet another Pirate Children story. Set thirteen years post-BDM, AU. A look into daily life for the children aboard Serenity. How do four children pass the time in the Black?

Author's Note: The silliness has taken on a life of its own. (Though there is a moment of seriousness which explores River and Abe, as Kaynara as so often requested. ;))

Part 3

A squeal and then running footsteps on the catwalks, one set light, one a little heavier. The shuttle door slides open. “Bubba!” There’s more giggling as Serra and Abram appear in the middle of the shuttle, Serra upside down in Abe’s arms. “Hi, Mama,” Serra grins, her twin braids hanging below her head, the purple teddy-bear on her belly smiling upside down as well. “He caught me.” “Abe, please put your sister down before you drop her,” Inara says with a light smile, seated at Mal’s desk going over the books. She has yet to change out of her nightclothes either, but wears a long robe to keep off the slight chill of Serenity. “Aw, Mama, you’re no fun,” Abe teases as he does as he’s told. Both children move to kiss her. “Good morning. We came to get you for breakfast.” “Daddy sent us to get your lazy butt out of bed,” Serra chimes in, obviously quoting. Then she giggles and sings mischievously: “But he didn’t say butt.” Abe grins as well, running a hand through his unruly hair, lighter and less curly than his sister’s. The ship rocks suddenly, pitching the children onto the floor in a pile of bones. “Ow! Bubba! That’s my hand.” “Your knee’s in my stomach, Mei-Mei.” “Sorry!” “Are you two okay?” Inara asks, watching the pair disentangle from each other. She moves to hit the comm switch to check on everything. Before she can, however, Wash’s voice crackles over the comm. “Attention shiny passengers: we have a slight problem. Please report to the cargo bay immediately. With clothes on, preferably, Jayne.” “Huh?” Serra asks. “Mama, what’s going on?” “I’m not sure,” Inara says, putting the barefoot girl on her hip with practiced ease. She ushers Abe onto the catwalk with her, seeing Jayne and Mal shoving their five crates of illegal cargo into the smuggling holds. She catches Zoe as the first mate brushes by. “What’s going on?” Feeding off the heightened tension in the room, Serra holds tight to Inara’s shoulder. “Feds. Random checkpoint,” Zoe says, sliding down the stairs to help stow the last of the cargo. Ally, Kacey, and Lolly come from the dining area, the two children still in their pajamas. Inara passes Serra off to Ally and hurries over to Mal. “Everything locked up tight, darlin’? Got the legal books ready to parade for the purplebellies?” “I’ll get them. Do you have an excuse for our suddenly empty cargo bay?” “I’m a poor cargo hauler, scraping by. No reason for the purplebellies to think otherwise.” “Are you going to talk to your daughter about using that term?” she asks, brow raised, remembering an unfortunate incident on Harvest six months ago. Mal sighs as Zoe and Jayne seal the compartment, looking to Inara and brushing his hands off. “Yeah. Yeah, I’ll talk to her.” Inara nods and goes for the legal version of their trade records, hiding the authentic ones in their secret hole in the floor of the shuttle. Meanwhile, Mal takes Serra from Ally, sitting on the step with her and giving her a quick but strong talking-to about the use of anti-Alliance slurs in the presence of armed soldiers. Inara gets back to the cargo hold as Zoe opens the airlock door and five Alliance marines enter the bay, checking for weapons and threats. Sensing that it’s clear, since the man apparently in charge is holding a very small child on his hip, the marines radio for their commanding officer to come aboard. He looks like every other Alliance commander Serenity’s ever encountered; they seem to have a type. He surveys the motley, half-dressed group, which includes four children, and wrinkles his brow. “Is this everyone, Captain?” “Yes, it is. Seems you caught us right before breakfast, so I can’t say we’re at our most alert. May I ask what the nature of this mornin’ visit is?” “A random search, Captain. We’re looking for smugglers about. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that now, would you, Captain Reynolds?” “Hmm, smuggling. You know anythin’ about smuggling on this boat, Mei-Mei?” Mal asks facetiously of the girl on his hip. He knows Inara disapproves of the little game he and Serra play with Alliance officers, but Serra’s wide, innocent eyes tend to throw the purplebellies off. Serra’s brow wrinkles, seriously considering her answer. “Nope, Daddy.” “Well, then, there’s your answer, Commander. If the Mei-Mei don’t know anything about smuggling on this ship, there ain’t any. She knows everything about this ship.” The commander smiles tightly. “Please don’t play games with me, Captain. I know who you are. I know what you did.” “Do you now? Then you’ll also know me and my crew here were given a full pardon for that, in an Alliance bid to calm the rising masses.” “Officially, yes,” the commander agrees with a slight nod as one of the marines takes the papers from Inara. The officer glances over the papers discreetly. “I also know what your occupation before and after the Miranda incident consists of: petty theft, armed robbery, smuggling. All enough to get this lovely floating heap of…” “Is that man bein’ mean about Serenity, Daddy?” Serra asks in a stage-whisper, cutting off the purplebelly’s expletive. “No, darlin’. Just expressin’ an opinion. Apparently we still got the right to free speech in this ‘verse.” The commander narrows his eyes at the pair, trying to be unaffected by the infectious little grin Serra wears across her sweet face. “Captain, I find it very hard to believe that you would not return to your old ways. Tell me, why is your cargo hold empty?” “It’s hard to make ends meet these days, Commander. ‘Specially with all these mouths to feed. Now this little thing may look tiny, but she can eat ‘bout as much as that beast of a man back there.” Serra sticks her tongue out at her father. “And we strictly stick to legal endeavors these days. Can’t get the children involved in somethin’ criminal, now can we, Commander? Makes work a mite harder to find, though.” “And there’s work on St. Albans waiting for you?” “Yes, sir,” Serra grins. “And snowballs.” One of the marines chuckles, earning a harsh look from the commander. “What kind of work, Captain?” “Not that it’s any o’ your concern, but reindeer meat.” “They kill reindeers?!” Serra exclaims, shock in her young voice. “Aw, hey now, Commander. Look what you made me do. Now I’m gonna have to answer to the little one ‘bout my cargo, and her Christmas is gonna be all ruined. Thank you very much.” “Mama! They kill reindeers!” “Not right now, Mei-Mei,” Inara says, a little of the tension draining away from her spine. The Alliance officer seems to be backing off, caught by the double-teamed charm of Mal and Serra. “They kill ‘em and cook ‘em and eat ‘em!” Kacey says wickedly, which makes Abe and Lolly break into laughter. “Straighten up, you three,” Ally says sternly, giving them what they call “the look”. They’re also getting glares from each of their mothers and quickly zip their lips. “Daddy, you can’t sell dead reindeers,” Serra pouts. “She does kinda have a point, Cap’n,” Kaylee chimes in. “Who’s gonna pull Santa’s sled if we kill all the reindeer?” “Santa’s sled defies all laws of physics. Scientifically impossible,” River adds. “Aiya! See, Commander?” Mal asks, “Now you’re sowing mutiny on my boat and I don’t appreciate that. I don’t waltz onto your boat and turn your crew against you.” “Daddy, you can’t waltz,” Abe offers. The children burst into laughter again, the adults barely withholding their own chuckles. “Bi zui. I waltz fine. Ask your mother.” “Right,” the commander says, noticing that he has lost control of the situation and not at all comfortable with that. He also knows that there is no visible reason to search the ship, aside from a snarky captain and his precocious children, and that the law does not have as firm a hold out here as it had two decades ago. “We will allow you to proceed then. Carry on, Captain.” Mal nods. “Much obliged, Commander.” Two marines file out before the officer, and as he turns with the final three, Serra calls: “Bye! Thanks for coming!” The officer gives her a fully disconcerted look before returning to his ship. Zoe closes the door behind him just in time for the cargo bay to erupt into laughter.

***

It’s their little secret. Just the three of them. They keep it between them, speak of it to no one save, occasionally, each other. Abram shares River’s nightmares. Has for about five years now. The first time it happened, Abe woke up gasping and sobbing. Kacey panicked, flung himself from his bunk and scurried up the ladder for an adult. Aunt River met him at the door. Now there's a system. Abe wakes up out of breath, and Kacey immediately comms Aunt River’s room before hopping from his bed to hold his “cousin” tight until River gets there. Kacey has never seen his aunt look so sad as when she slips down their ladder and lies beside them, her eyes wide and glassy with tears. Together, Kacey and River cradle Abe until his breathing evens and he falls back to sleep, the aunt murmuring a litany of trilingual apologies until his slumber is dreamless. Sometimes, Kacey is angry once Abe sleeps, blues eyes flashing accusingly at their eldest conspirator. “It’s not fair,” he whispers, young voice harsh and raw from withheld tears. "They're not his." Because sometimes Abe needs his own big brother, because he spends so much of his energy playing one. He needs someone to look out for him, protect and comfort him. But Aunt River doesn’t do it on purpose, does everything she can to save him from them. Her subconscious has latched on to his empathy, knows the curves of his brain as well as her own, purges itself in REM sleep and projects the excess onto Abe when the dreams are particularly strong. A lesser mind would’ve been destroyed by them. So River just stares at Kacey during the attacks, looking so very young and tearful, and says she’s sorry, she doesn’t want him to see. And that’s enough, because these quiet moments once Abe’s asleep again are Kacey and River’s bond, looking out from Brother because he won’t or can’t look out for himself. He keeps them together. He has seen so much in ten years, River always reflects sadly, and will see so much more. This bond with all of the children translates into everyday life, not just the rare nights of Abe and River’s nightmares. She’s on their side, shares little secrets with them, collectively or in turn. This is just the biggest. They don’t tell the captain, because he would be angry but helpless. They don’t tell Inara because she would worry and fret, take his pain onto her heart. Abe and River don’t think anyone else should have to carry this burden.

***

“You look tired, Bubba. Are you sleeping okay?” Inara asks gently, disturbing the soft silence of the shuttle. It’s late Sunday morning on Serenity, just a day out from St. Albans. It’s Ally’s day off, and therefore the children have no lessons to be attending. Kacey and Lolly take this opportunity to sleep in, as usual. Serra yanks her father out of bed bright and early, off to Captain the ship. Inara still isn’t sure what that entails, but leaves them to their Sunday ritual. She and Abram have their own Sunday ritual, retreating into the quiet shuttle after breakfast for undisturbed reading time. They even lock the door to keep their favorite “captains” from bursting in unannounced. Abe’s on his stomach across the end of the bed, Inara propped against the pillows at the headboard. The son’s hair is as unruly as ever and he hasn’t even bothered to change out of his pajama pants and sweatshirt. Dark circles rim his brown eyes. He lets out a monstrous yawn before answering her with an innocent: “Fine.” Inara raises an eyebrow. She can always tell when her children are lying to her, which is probably why they don’t do it very often. “Are you sure?” “Just had a nightmare last night,” Abe shrugs, rolling onto his back. He’s not lying to her this time, but he’s not telling the whole truth. She lets it go for now. There’s a pounding on the door. “Hey! Let us in!” the Mei-Mei cries, her voice muffled by the thick door. “Yeah! Let us in!” “No!” Abe calls back, flipping a page, playful grin on his face. “Go away!” “We still have two hours left this morning,” Inara informs the pair, their faces pressed against the round window humorously. “But we’re bored! We Captained all morning and there's nothing left to do,” Serra whines. “I’m sure you can think of something,” Inara calls. Both she and Abe blow kisses at the door. “Meanies. C’mon, Daddy. Let’s make our own fun,” Serra harumphs, and their heads disappear from view, two sets of footsteps on the catwalk, one heavy, the other heavier than usual. “They’ll get over it,” Inara assures Abe, who looks just a mite guilty. “With their attention spans?” Abe laughs lightly. “Good point.” He stands and goes to the door, standing on tiptoes to see out of the window. “They’re already hauling the hoop down,” he reports, collapsing back onto the bed. “What did I say?” Abe grins, reopening his book to the marked page. “I do like the peace and quiet.”

TBC