Written in late December last year, while we were all aglow following the release of DVDs, and after getting inspiration from the original version of a certain Christmas song. I was trying to express what I was feeling at that time, and I still don't know if I pulled it off. It's a strange little story, a bit sappy maybe, and far from whatever canon we may yet see.

******

"If The Fates Allow" by HawkMoth (c) 12/22/2003

******

What's the good in being a thief if you can't steal time?

***

The years weren't completely unkind, despite being many and hard. There were just enough moments snatched, days swiped in carefully planned and daringly executed heists. Coded messages, non-traceable waves; a meet here, a rendezvous there. Never enough payoff, though. Rich beyond anyone's dreams, for damn certain, but always spread too thin to make it last till the next time.

Five to nine. It worked for a while. Glorious hardship. Looking out for each other, making a life, surviving the black. Inevitable that it didn't last.

Nine to five. It was the only solution. Better to live apart than die together. Safer to say good-bye. Wasn't easy but it had to be done. Way too hard to admit that part of your crew--part of your family--was a liability.

But without the added danger it was easier to make a dishonest living. And a promise that would take years to keep.

***

A good thief, a clever one, should be able to steal just about anything. The trick to stealing time was to never take it the same way twice. You had to pick different months each year, stagger the dates. Choose a complicated course for everyone to a different world or moon. Review and rehearse every caper. It always paid off. There may have been a few close calls, revised plans, postponed meets, but in six long years, never did a plan go wrong.

Shiniest of all would be the big payoff, when all the pain and patience was at last rewarded, and that desperate, long-ago promise fulfilled. There would be money enough for a piece of land on a carefully chosen, sparsely settled moon. It would be a den for honorable thieves and their wayward babes, a safe dock for a good old boat that still had good years left in her. A home.

The timing was a pure accident, but didn't make any less joyful. Took a while to settle all the arrangements and make the place livable. The others just couldn't up and leave the lives they'd been living, leastways without mucking up all the caution and care that led to the big win. It wouldn't do, either, for Serenity to travel far and wide to fetch all her crew.

Fittingly, Simon, with a ship at his disposal, masterminded the final arrangements.

***

He'd had the worst of it, separated from Kaylee, from his sister, starting a whole new life a second time around. Always on the move, medic on a freighter captained by an old and trustworthy friend of Wash's, who'd taken to the young doctor like a long-lost son. It was a slightly less harrowing life than on Serenity, but Simon grew lean and little bit hard.

River had departed Serenity in Book's care, headed for sanctuary in a tiny abbey far out on the Fringe. The years of peaceful routine and good works healed some of the fractures in her soul, though not as much as might have been realized in her brother's company. The Shepherd found a measure of redemption, always tempered by the regret of leaving those who needed him as much as River did.

A safe, secure life had always been within Inara's reach. Although she could distance herself from love, she couldn't renounce it. Her former status coupled with dubiously acquired knowledge bought her a place in a trading house on Beaumonde, a world that lay between the Core and the Rim. From there she was able to aid and abet the schemes that brought Serenity's family together for brief, bittersweet reunions.

***

No need to steal time any more. Time was theirs to spend at last. It all could have turned out different, ended badly in so many ways. There yet could be a terrible outcome down the long path of the future.

The maybes didn't matter. Years had passed, the numbers had changed, and this was now. Not tied to the land, still free to fly. It was enough.

Malcolm Reynolds waited, standing slightly apart from the others. Kaylee was up on the fence, practically vibrating with excitement, straining her eyes for the first glimpse of the Lodestone on the horizon. Jayne stood beside her, silent and stolid, arms resting on the top rail. Only the slight rocking of one leg gave away his own state of anticipation. He already had himself a girl in town, and was even making noise about "settlin'" now that the preacher would be back to officialize.

Little Dacey was leading her daddy on a goose run about the yard. Wash huffed and puffed and growled like one of his dinosaurs, making her squeal in mock terror. Zoe, with their boy Drew perched on one hip as easily as her gun rode on the other watched fondly from the porch, not too far from her captain's side.

Mal smiled to himself. Five becoming six, and then seven, hadn't been so much of a burden as he'd expected, although it had certainly made for some interesting times. Just as well that Simon had been able to convince Kaylee he didn't want her to be raising a child without him. Two little critters were a handful enough, especially at this time of year.

"They're coming!"

The faint roar of landing jets underscored Kaylee's happy shout. Wash scooped Dacey up in his arms as the Lodestone appeared over the hills. She touched down a safe distance from the house on her foursquare struts, the central lift already descending even before she was powered down.

Serenity's original crew members were already halfway there as the platform settled on the ground. Hand in hand, Simon and River ran forward to sweep Kaylee up in a gleeful, tearful hug, which quickly grew into a melee of welcome with the addition of Wash, Zoe and the little ones.

Jayne strode up to greet Book, a little grayer but mostly unchanged. Both men grinned warmly as they exchanged handshakes and backslaps before joining the others.

Mal sensed more than saw it all has he kept on walking, his gaze fixed on one sight only.

The years could have been kinder. Had he dared, he might have managed to steal more time. But that was air through the engine. The past couldn't be unmade. There was a future to be forged.

Inara stepped carefully off the lift and into his waiting arms, mindful of what she held in her own. "Merry Christmas, Mal," she said softly, as he kissed her, then stared down at the child he had never yet seen.

"Welcome home," he said to her and their son, holding them close, everything paid in full as he led them to the rest of the family.

******