Truth is, what happened was this ...

It was real easy. She was going back to the Training House, and we were gonna just go. Out into the Black. Flyin’ like we were supposed to, free and clear. Not sure how it came to be so complicated, but ... maybe albatross could explain it, but I sure as diyu can’t.

And I never meant it to happen. Honest.

Kaylee swore it wasn’t her fault, just that the men came with the tanker to refill our water reservoirs an hour before they were supposed to, and she didn’t realise anyone was working in the shower. Nor that the head wasn’t working to its best capacity, which I’d taken upon myself to fix.

And it wasn’t my fault that we had cattle as cargo again. Personally I figure that was Badger, telling Sir Warwick that of course we were happy to carry ‘em again, and only at double the last rate. And Jayne’d used all the water we had left in cleaning out the bay, and the very last cupful sluicing down his boots. So I’d figured it wasn’t worth turning off the stopcock.

She came up, all prettified, asking if there’s anything she can do, since she felt responsible for mentioning the fault as we, her and me, that is, cleared up the last of breakfast. So I’m asking her to pass me the wrench, ‘cause I’ve got my hands all twisted round backwards up above myself, and she steps inside the stall with me so I can get hold of it, and that’s the moment, the exact moment, the tanker starts its engines.

Just a second until I could manage to turn it off, but with the shower head dangling like it was, that’s all it took. We were soaked. And it was so rutting cold. As I turned to look at her, my mouth open, water dripping from my nose, I could see it was. Very clearly through the thin fabric of her dress, clinging to her like it wasn’t hardly there, two little peaks drawing my gaze and giving me absolute proof that it was, honestly, cold. I was about to make a joke, something tasteless I wouldn’t be surprised, something with more than a hint of snark. Until I looked into her face.

And it wasn’t my fault. Her eyes were so shocked, those eyes that could flash when she was angry at me now wide, her makeup running ... I couldn’t help it. Until my dying day I will swear on a whole stack of Bibles that I don't know what came over me, but suddenly she was in my arms and I’m kissing her like I wanna take away all the troubles she's ever had, and I can feel her soften against me like I’ve always wanted, and she’s kissing me back.

Then she ain’t. She’s out of my arms and walking away, some words about it being a mistake, and it wasn’t going to happen again, and suddenly I’m seeing RED.

I don’t know if I pushed past anyone, or if someone was in the bay watching us, because I ran after her, caught her by the door to her shuttle, turned her around to see me. I think maybe someone was, ‘cause I heard a gasp or some such, but all I could see was her, about to walk away from me, like she did before, after Nandi and the Heart of Gold.

And I wasn't sure I was gonna be able to live through it this time.

So I kissed her again. Felt her lips on mine and drank it all in because if she was gonna kill me I wanted it to be the last thing I ever felt. Lost too much, too many, to lose this chance.

Said something. Not sure of the exact words, but I think it was “I love you, ‘Nara.” There were others, telling her not to go, not to leave, to stay with me because I needed her, because I wanted her to be with no-one but me, and every word touched with a kiss from my lips to hers, and her hands coming up and holding my face, reading every line and scar like Braille, and pulling me into the shuttle.

We tried to take a breath, as she got us towels, and I stood in the middle of the room trying not to drip on her stuff, and she asked me to dry her hair. Run-tse duh fuo-tsoo but I never knew it could be so sexy. Only truth is everything she ever did was sexy. More. Erotic. Even when she was waving that sword at me, telling me off when I was about to defend her honour. When she was crying because of Miranda. Every single minute of every gorram day, she made me want to protect her, hold her close, tell her I needed her ... No. Tell her she needed me to look after her. Only I was right the first time. And when I saw her for the first time without her makeup, barefaced, looking so young, so vulnerable ... I nearly told her there and then, weeks before, but I ran away, ashamed I could even be thinking something like that of someone so perfect.

Yet now here I was actually telling her, every word I’d held back for so long, peeling the wet dress from her shoulders as she struggled to undo the buttons on my tan shirt, all thumbs and no sign of Companion wiles. And when I pressed into her, I knew I was finally home.

And after, when she was lying next to me, her eyes closed as she dreamed, her skin so near I could touch it, I thought I’d touched heaven instead. And I wanted to do it again, to make her sing and cry my name in ecstasy, and then to take a real shower with her and watch her face as I brought her to the edge of forever ...

It wasn’t easy. Never thought it would be, but experience has always shown me that if it’s easy, it probably ain’t worth the keeping. Always fought for what I wanted, whether it was against the weather and disease back on Shadow, the Alliance or the gorram Reavers, and we fought too. Over who she was, who I wanted her to be, and every damn thing in between.

I was a hwoon dahn on occasion – actually more than one, if you can believe it – and she was a puo foo. Oh, and she was good at it too, sneaking up on me during conversations and arguments and making some comment that struck so deep I didn’t think I was gonna survive.

But survive I did. And we came to an understanding on who we were and where we were going.

And now she’s holding onto me hard enough I know there’s gonna be bruises, and her hair’s cut short to make looking after it easier, and she ain’t worn makeup in near on a month, and I can feel the last of the contraction pulse through her swollen belly ... Truth is, she’s never been more beautiful, and I ain’t sorry to take the blame. My son’s gonna make an appearance soon, and that’s surely my fault. And if I could take the pain for her, I’d be doing it in a heartbeat, and from the look on her face she knows that.

She’s sagging back against me, and I’m holding her up, reaching over and turning off the water, the last drops drip-dripping into the tray under our feet.

Time to dry. Time to call Simon, no matter she’s insisting just a few more minutes in the steam and the spray. Truth is, time to make our family just that little bit bigger.