“Did you speak to her?” Freya asked as Mal climbed down into their bunk.

“That I did.”

“And?”

“She wasn't any more forthcoming than I expected.”

Freya leaned back against the bulkhead where she was sitting in bed, the blanket pooled around her waist. She watched as Mal began to undress, pushing his braces from his shoulders. “So she really doesn’t know why she wants Jethro here?”

“Nope.” Mal sat down on the edge of the bunk and pulled off his boots, tossing them into the corner. He turned a little to look at her, the light catching the planes of her face. “Seems to be womenfolk can’t make up their minds sometimes over men.”

She smiled. “Are you being personal here?”

“Well, look at Zoe. Takes her forever to decide Hank might be the man for her. Then there’s Kaylee …”

“No,” Freya interrupted. “You can’t say that. She was the one who waited for Simon all that time. And I waited for you.”

“Yeah, but you ain’t womenfolk.” He leaned forward a little. “You’re my wife.” He touched her breast gently, cupping it and running his thumb across her nipple.

“Besides, I think it’s exactly the opposite for River,” Freya said, her breath catching just a little. “It’s been a long time since we were at Bathgate, and she’d been waiting for him.”

“Yeah, but she spent the time tormenting Jayne. Not sure that can be classed as waiting.” Mal looked down, watched her skin begin to tighten. Then he let go. “Sorry,” he said, looking up into her hazel eyes, dark in this light.

“What for?” she asked, her breast feeling bereft of his touch.

“Makin’ you all unnecessary when I can’t do anything to finish it.”

Her lips twitched. “I saw Simon today.”

“Well, I see him every day, only I don’t make a note of it in …” He paused. “Wait a minute. You mean you saw Simon?”

“Mmn.”

“About …” He nodded towards her belly.

“I told him if he didn’t say yes I was going to do something very nasty and very painful to him. In fact, I told him in explicit detail exactly what I’d do to him.”

Mal felt his heart start to beat faster. “And what did he say to that threat?”

“He hummed. Then he hawed.” She lifted her hand to stroke his cheek, feeling the bristles on his chin. “Then he did some more of those tests.” She laughed. “I tell you, I’m beginning to feel like a lab specimen.”

“Frey …” His voice turned to begging. “What did the man say? Or do I have to go and interrupt his shenanigans with Kaylee to find out from the horse’s mouth?”

“You could try.”

“Frey…” Now he was warning her he’d had enough. Couldn’t take any more. Needed to know –

“He said it’s all right.” Her voice was soft, low, just a hint of throatiness.

“All right?”

“I'm healed. Perfectly fine. No need to worry. Or wait. Any longer.” She leaned over and kissed him, her tongue pressing between his lips.

He growled deep in his chest and moved forward, taking her in his arms and crushing her to him. Then he let her go enough so he could see into her eyes. “You telling the truth? Not just making this up so you can have your wicked way with me?”

“Oh, I'm telling the truth.” She grinned. “In fact, I can prove it.” She disentangled one arm enough to reach behind her to the shelf and picked up a small recorder. “Here.”

Mal took it, pressed play. A slightly distorted but very familiar voice filled the cabin.

“I, Simon Tam, do solemnly swear that Freya Reynolds, wife of Captain Malcolm Reynolds, is fully healed, and can go back to doing … whatever it is they do at night. Okay, is that enough? Can I get back to being a doctor and not some kind of sex therapist? Honestly, you’re worse than –“ The recording cut off.

“Worse than who?” Mal asked. “And how can I be sure that’s Simon’s voice?”

“You think anyone else talks like that?” She stroked his back, pulling his shirt from inside his pants.

“Well, no. Mind, I think Hank does a pretty good impression.” He looked into her eyes. “You get him to do this?”

“No.” She had managed to get to bare skin, and was running her fingertips down his spine.

“You made him record this?” He shook his head, his lips twitching. “Wish I’d been there.”

“If you had I wouldn’t have needed it.” She pushed down inside his pants, pressing into the soft warm skin of his buttocks with her nails.

He trembled, just a little. “So you’re really okay now?”

Her hand stopped. “Don’t you want to make love to me?” she asked, laying back on the bed, her skin soft and glowing.

He looked down at her, at her body still bearing evidence of his child. “Ethan asleep?” he asked, not touching, not yet.

“Like a baby.” She smiled, inviting him.

“Not likely to wake up?” Now he leaned forward just a little, blowing on her nipples, watching as they hardened into little peaks.

She sighed with pleasure. “He’s a good boy. Won’t wake until morning.”

“If you’re sure …” He could feel a certain tightness, a heaviness in his groin. “Don’t want to be disturbing him at all.” He ran a finger down her hip, pushing the blanket lower.

“That’s a nice thought,” she said, her eyes closing.

“Only we’re going to be on Persephone by 10 tomorrow, local time,” Mal said softly. “Get the details from Badger, do the job.” He kissed the skin of her belly. “You know, might be embarrassing if we oversleep and all …”

She opened her eyes and gazed into his face. “You make love to me right now, Malcolm Reynolds,” she said, her voice a mere whisper. “Before I make a scene.”

He grinned and slid onto the bed beside her, his hand moving down between her thighs, feeling her ready for him. “You know I'm captain on board this boat, don’t you?” he murmured, seeing her eyes widen as he pushed a little further.

“So it’s not me taking advantage of you then?” she asked, her voice breaking, finding the sensation of his still-clothed body against her naked flesh very arousing. “More like the other way around?”

“And just you remember that,” he agreed, pressing his lips to hers as her arms came up to encircle him.

-