Malcolm Reynolds, hero of Serenity Valley and captain of this particular Firefly’s crew, watched his wife sleeping. She was lying on her side a little, turned towards the crib that Kaylee had insisted they use until Simon said it was okay for her to go back to their bunk and the nursery that Jayne had finally finished. Ethan was spark out, his little fist jammed into his mouth … well, it had been a busy day for him too.

Mal couldn’t help but smile. Seemed like things never went smooth, but at least they’d got a beautiful, healthy baby boy out of it. And he was grateful to Jayne for what he’d done, even if he was going to have problems getting the images of the big mercenary seeing Freya … like that … out of his brain for a few months. Or years. Or more likely never.

He glanced over his shoulder towards Book’s old room, and wished with all his heart that he and Wash were here to see. Just to be able to prove that he wasn’t the empty old man he’d been afraid he’d become. Before Freya moved in. Just to be able to say to them, with more than a hint of pride in his voice, ‘ this is my son ’.

“He’s a beautiful baby,” said Book, standing behind him.

“Is my boat haunted?” Mal asked, not moving, and somehow not exactly surprised.

“Not quite. But, you know … there are more things in heaven and earth than are dreamt of in your philosophy.”

“You can stop quoting Shakespeare at me, Shepherd,” Mal said, finally turning to face his old friend. “I ain’t as badly read to assume you made that up your own self.”

“You continue to surprise me, captain. And perhaps I shouldn‘t be.” The older man smiled, steepling his hands together in just the way Mal remembered. “Besides, you looked like you needed some advice.”

“Did I? Don’t recall that being the case.”

Book just looked at him, in the serene manner he had, his thick grey hair caught back in its leather tie, like he used to have it before he took to the corn rows and the beard. “Really?” he asked softly.

“Been a long time since I as