Author’s Note: Inspired by TaraLJC’s genius LiveJournal ff_friday (that's the name you enter in on the site) challenge, this ficlet (clocking in at 553 words, not including author’s note) addresses the subject of childhood. I personally think the idea’s a bit clichéd, but I haven’t seen it written yet, so here goes. Set sometime in the near future, maybe a few months after "Objects in Space."

For once, trouble came before the crew of Serenity, as they found when they landed on Hestia. Unfortunately, that didn’t make things go any less smooth. Some mercenaries, who had landed a week before them, were terrorizing the capital town, and the distressed mayor would pay anybody, regardless of their own occupation similar to that of the ruffians tearing up his town, a healthy sum to get the mercenaries out of there.

The skirmish was a dirty one, not just because of the style of fighting. Somehow, as they moved out of the saloon, it shifted from a bar brawl into a full-on wrestling match in the mud. No one had escaped clean, but at least in the end Mal was the one standing over his opponent, who lay face-down in the muck, his gun in Mal’s hand. Zoe had also successfully disarmed her man; and Mal could guess that Jayne was finishing up his business, as the big man pummeled his smaller attacker until the man dropped to the ground, out cold.

Already a crowd of spectators had assembled and was watching the fight, wide-eyed, not taking a step toward the fray. When all of the offenders lay unconscious in the mud, a dirty-faced woman clutching a small bundle to her cautiously took a step forward, her eyes darting from the fallen men to Mal and his filthy crew.

"Th – thank you so much," the words tumbled out of her, as she pressed the bundle – which turned out to be a little baby – closer to her chest. "Your crew – they’re amazing."

Mal couldn’t help but grin. "Thanks –" he started, but the woman edged past