Matthew Mitchell Reynolds
This story and all themes and ideas contained in said story are the sole
ownership of J.L. Scott. Any copyright infringements can be prosecuted in a
court of law.
To borrow a phrase: Firefly no mine......no money, no sue, please?
Mal pushed the door to his bunk closed and turned around. Morgan had a interesting look on her face, one that he recognized. His heart beat a little faster as she reached out and pulled him by the shirt front tight against her. Her belly against his groin, one hand massaging his chest, the other creeping up around his neck, he had to swallow keep from erupting. She always had this effect on him. His own fingers curled around her back, yearning for the feel of her flesh against his. For half a second he worried about her head, but then she started unbuttoning his shirt with one hand, and slipped the strap of his suspenders off with the other.
"So, Captain Renyolds" she purred in a low voice, but there was no room for either to say anything else. Love took hold of their bodies, and there was no controlling themselves.
Much later, neither having got a wink, the ship slept around them. Morgan lay, exhausted, in Malcolm's arms, tracing little circles across his chest. For a long time they had lain there, silently enjoying each other's mere presence, as they'd never had the chance before. Eight years apart, but there was nothing alien between them. Their love had settled from the raw passion of two young soldiers to that of a seasoned married couple with a child to raise and a ship of their own. For the first time since the end of the war, Mal felt everything was perfect. Or, when they got Matthew back, it would be perfect. For now he could settle for divine.
"Tell me about him" he asked, a sudden strong urge to know everything about his son.
"Mmmm" Morgan rearranged herself so she could look down at him, "Matthew Mitchell Renyolds"
"You gave him my name" Morgan smiled tenderly, still tracing her finger around his chest.
"Had to. Every time I look in his brown eyes, I see you. He looks just like you, Mal. He got your stubbornness too, and your sense of morality" Mal played with her hair while she told him, an image building in his head. She told him about his first step, his first word, the first time he rode a horse. Mal was reminded of his own childhood, and wondered what Morgan thought of the correlations. She talked for a long time, telling him about taking him camping, teaching him to sing, what it was like just to watch him sleep, how he loved to climb trees and listen to stories about his Dad and Aunt Zoë, all of his little habits and hobbies. Mal couldn't help but absorb all of her pride and love for the boy, suddenly wishing he could know Matt was only down the hall and he could go and see him if he wanted. He was angry at himself for letting the Alliance take him from them, even though there was nothing he could've done, and he was doing all he could now. He couldn't wait to see Zoe's face when this brown eyed eight year old looked up and called her "Aunt"
"He's so smart, Mal" Morgan paused for the first time in hours, "The first day he went to school, he was five. Morris, my bar keep, took him in to town and brought him home. I almost cried, watching them walk away. He was so happy to go, though. All day I worried about him, and even sent my raven to look in on him. Then when he got home he said 'Mommy, I don't want to go back school.' And I asked him why, thinking some older kid had picked on him or something. And he said 'The teacher doesn't know what she's talking about, and half the books are wrong. And they have me doing baby stuff, I know how to multiply and divide!'" She stopped for a moment, the memory playing front of her eyes. She might've broken down right then, if Malcolm hadn't been brushing a thumb across her cheek and reminding her with a look of all the good things in life. She still sucked in a breath and closed her eyes.
"He was five. Just five. I think that was when I knew he was special. I decided to teach him myself. In a year and a half I exhausted everything I knew. Physics, history, literature, art. He just soaked it up, like....like sun light. There was just nothing else I could teach him and I just...I just wanted more for him. So, I took him to Ariel. And now he's gone" Mal understood now.
"Can't blame yourself, Morgan" he told her, "You were just tryin' to do best by him. Just like you always try to do best by everyone" Morgan snuggled into him and he pulled the covers up to her shoulders, thinking they'd have to get up in a couple hours.
"And anyway" he assured her, "On this ship, we get the best of everything"
She was smiling as she drifted off...
One of the women had found a patch of flowers. They were little white things, barely more than weeds, but Malcolm had seen her eyes light up when the other woman had handed them to her.
It was going to be an odd wedding. The only thing still standing within sight was a tree, bent and knurled. Morgan had decided it had character. It just happened that the town's preacher was one of the one's that hadn't been killed in the Alliance bombings.
"Who knows how long this war is going to go on" Malcolm had said, "We got ourselves a preacher. Won't be much, but at least..."
"Yes" she said and it was decided. The Shepard was told their first names only, and the need for haste. They'd only been passing through, on the search for another missing team.
Both the Bride and the Groom wore muddy uniforms, their guns slung at their sides. Zoë was the only person they knew there, and she would be the only witness. The survivors had all turned up, needing some sort of goodness to keep on with their lives. They were in two groups, forming a makeshift aisle that Mal and Morgan were making their way down.
They never knew what set the landmine off. It blew up far enough away that the townspeople got away with some minor burns, but a piece of shrapnel had been thrown hard enough to imbed itself in the Shepard. He would be fine, but they didn't have time to wait for him.
The three Brown Coat soldiers moved on, ultimately finding their missing mem, but never another preacher.
Jayne was already in a bad mood. He'd spent the better part of the night cleaning his guns and thinking about how they were on their way to nowhere to save some brat instead of out selling their cargo and getting paid. Of course, recent events had taught him that some things weren't worth the money. There hadn't been anything, yet, though, to teach him that some things were worth more than money, mo matter the risk. He was human enough to know a person's kith and kin were more important than money, but he was still grumpy about it.
He was itching for a fight when he ran into Morgan beating at an invisible foe in the cargo hold.
"Air do somethin' to offend ya?" he joshed her wit a small sneer. Morgan stopped her exercise and swiped the sweat from her brow. In a sweaty tank with her chest heaving, Jayne could at least see what the Cap'n saw in the young woman.
"Lack of anyone able to take me on" she replied.
"Little thing like you?" Jayne scoffed. He didn't know it, but Morgan got a mischievous gleam in her eye.
"Care for a row?" she asked. Jayne smiled. She'd asked for it, after all. He nodded and put up his fists. She had him on the deck in three moves. She moved back, he got up, his pride wounded and his guard up. They danced around, taking swings at each other. She landed a few. He didn't.
"What kind of man are you, Jayne?" she asked as he ducked another punch.
"Huh?" he asked, because he was paying more attention to her feet, which he knew would trip him if he wasn't careful.
"Do you have morals, standards? Do you draw lines?" Morgan explained.
"Long as I get my cut" Jayne replied. Sure there were things he wouldn't do, but not because of no stupid sense of morality.
"I see" Morgan said. Her feet flew out like he'd known they were going to, and he dropped. She was on top of him with her arm against his windpipe before he could even think about getting up.
"In that case, I feel it's my duty to warn you" Ah. This was why she'd been a General. She was scary.
"If you ever do anything that may in anyway put my son or his father in any sort of danger: I'll kill you" Jayne recognized a threat that didn't require a response when he saw one. She got off of him, and he got out of there.
"Well. What was all that about?" Morgan turned.
"None of your concern, Preacher man" she told him. She grabbed the towel Mal had given her and wiped herself down. Water conservation on any space farring vehicle was of concern. Added to the years of living on fairly arid planets and war, Morgan believed in only using as much as possible.
"Jayne is not an easy man to fell" Book observed, hopeful of a friendly conversation. Captain Renyolds was certainly uninterested in his guidance, but his wife may be a different matter. It was his duty to offer, anyway. And besides, this young woman was a very interesting character.
"Yeah. He's a real brick wall" she laughed. Book had been watching from the shadows and he'd seen how easily she'd brought the man (who was twice as tall as her, at least) down. She leaned up against some crates, open to conversation.
"Captain Renyolds says that you're well educated" the Shepard said, taking the opportunity. If he was to help anyone, they first must trust him.
"Yeah. I was born on Ariel. My parents were among the wealthy elite. I got the best education to be had until I was 13" she replied, "But for some strange reason my parents objected to the Alliance, despite who they were. So we moved to a little planet and started a cattle ranch" She spared him the further details.
"I must admit I'm surprised" Book told her. She shrugged.
"Social graces don't get you far on a backwater planet, or on the battle front"
"I imagine not" Book agreed. He had long since learned not to underestimate the young. Her age was therefore not as surprising to him as it had been to the others.
"I was surprised to learn Mal was traveling with a Preacher man" Morgan said, "He used to go in for God, but I would've thought...well, after everything, he would've cared for Him less"
"Well, I was surprised to learn the Captain had a wife" the Shepard replied, "Especially one as renowned as Morgan Mitchell" He did not feel it was his place to discuss the Captain's relationship with God, even with his wife. Morgan looked put off by his admission.
"Ah, well, we aren't exactly married, Shepard" she told him. Book was further surprised.
"Oh. I merely assumed..."
"Not like we didn't try for it" she amended quickly, "Shepherds were hard to come by during the war. The one we did find had an unfortunate accident before he could get us married" Book understood this, at least. War was full of all sorts of troubles.
"Sir!" Zoë called, coming down the stairs, a smile on her face, "Jayne said you were in need of a sparring partner"
"No. Actually, I've just had a change in plans" Morgan answered, giving her old friend an assesive look, "Shepherd Book here has just given me an idea"
To borrow a phrase: Firefly no mine......no money, no sue, please?
Mal pushed the door to his bunk closed and turned around. Morgan had a interesting look on her face, one that he recognized. His heart beat a little faster as she reached out and pulled him by the shirt front tight against her. Her belly against his groin, one hand massaging his chest, the other creeping up around his neck, he had to swallow keep from erupting. She always had this effect on him. His own fingers curled around her back, yearning for the feel of her flesh against his. For half a second he worried about her head, but then she started unbuttoning his shirt with one hand, and slipped the strap of his suspenders off with the other.
"So, Captain Renyolds" she purred in a low voice, but there was no room for either to say anything else. Love took hold of their bodies, and there was no controlling themselves.
Much later, neither having got a wink, the ship slept around them. Morgan lay, exhausted, in Malcolm's arms, tracing little circles across his chest. For a long time they had lain there, silently enjoying each other's mere presence, as they'd never had the chance before. Eight years apart, but there was nothing alien between them. Their love had settled from the raw passion of two young soldiers to that of a seasoned married couple with a child to raise and a ship of their own. For the first time since the end of the war, Mal felt everything was perfect. Or, when they got Matthew back, it would be perfect. For now he could settle for divine.
"Tell me about him" he asked, a sudden strong urge to know everything about his son.
"Mmmm" Morgan rearranged herself so she could look down at him, "Matthew Mitchell Renyolds"
"You gave him my name" Morgan smiled tenderly, still tracing her finger around his chest.
"Had to. Every time I look in his brown eyes, I see you. He looks just like you, Mal. He got your stubbornness too, and your sense of morality" Mal played with her hair while she told him, an image building in his head. She told him about his first step, his first word, the first time he rode a horse. Mal was reminded of his own childhood, and wondered what Morgan thought of the correlations. She talked for a long time, telling him about taking him camping, teaching him to sing, what it was like just to watch him sleep, how he loved to climb trees and listen to stories about his Dad and Aunt Zoë, all of his little habits and hobbies. Mal couldn't help but absorb all of her pride and love for the boy, suddenly wishing he could know Matt was only down the hall and he could go and see him if he wanted. He was angry at himself for letting the Alliance take him from them, even though there was nothing he could've done, and he was doing all he could now. He couldn't wait to see Zoe's face when this brown eyed eight year old looked up and called her "Aunt"
"He's so smart, Mal" Morgan paused for the first time in hours, "The first day he went to school, he was five. Morris, my bar keep, took him in to town and brought him home. I almost cried, watching them walk away. He was so happy to go, though. All day I worried about him, and even sent my raven to look in on him. Then when he got home he said 'Mommy, I don't want to go back school.' And I asked him why, thinking some older kid had picked on him or something. And he said 'The teacher doesn't know what she's talking about, and half the books are wrong. And they have me doing baby stuff, I know how to multiply and divide!'" She stopped for a moment, the memory playing front of her eyes. She might've broken down right then, if Malcolm hadn't been brushing a thumb across her cheek and reminding her with a look of all the good things in life. She still sucked in a breath and closed her eyes.
"He was five. Just five. I think that was when I knew he was special. I decided to teach him myself. In a year and a half I exhausted everything I knew. Physics, history, literature, art. He just soaked it up, like....like sun light. There was just nothing else I could teach him and I just...I just wanted more for him. So, I took him to Ariel. And now he's gone" Mal understood now.
"Can't blame yourself, Morgan" he told her, "You were just tryin' to do best by him. Just like you always try to do best by everyone" Morgan snuggled into him and he pulled the covers up to her shoulders, thinking they'd have to get up in a couple hours.
"And anyway" he assured her, "On this ship, we get the best of everything"
She was smiling as she drifted off...
One of the women had found a patch of flowers. They were little white things, barely more than weeds, but Malcolm had seen her eyes light up when the other woman had handed them to her.
It was going to be an odd wedding. The only thing still standing within sight was a tree, bent and knurled. Morgan had decided it had character. It just happened that the town's preacher was one of the one's that hadn't been killed in the Alliance bombings.
"Who knows how long this war is going to go on" Malcolm had said, "We got ourselves a preacher. Won't be much, but at least..."
"Yes" she said and it was decided. The Shepard was told their first names only, and the need for haste. They'd only been passing through, on the search for another missing team.
Both the Bride and the Groom wore muddy uniforms, their guns slung at their sides. Zoë was the only person they knew there, and she would be the only witness. The survivors had all turned up, needing some sort of goodness to keep on with their lives. They were in two groups, forming a makeshift aisle that Mal and Morgan were making their way down.
They never knew what set the landmine off. It blew up far enough away that the townspeople got away with some minor burns, but a piece of shrapnel had been thrown hard enough to imbed itself in the Shepard. He would be fine, but they didn't have time to wait for him.
The three Brown Coat soldiers moved on, ultimately finding their missing mem, but never another preacher.
Jayne was already in a bad mood. He'd spent the better part of the night cleaning his guns and thinking about how they were on their way to nowhere to save some brat instead of out selling their cargo and getting paid. Of course, recent events had taught him that some things weren't worth the money. There hadn't been anything, yet, though, to teach him that some things were worth more than money, mo matter the risk. He was human enough to know a person's kith and kin were more important than money, but he was still grumpy about it.
He was itching for a fight when he ran into Morgan beating at an invisible foe in the cargo hold.
"Air do somethin' to offend ya?" he joshed her wit a small sneer. Morgan stopped her exercise and swiped the sweat from her brow. In a sweaty tank with her chest heaving, Jayne could at least see what the Cap'n saw in the young woman.
"Lack of anyone able to take me on" she replied.
"Little thing like you?" Jayne scoffed. He didn't know it, but Morgan got a mischievous gleam in her eye.
"Care for a row?" she asked. Jayne smiled. She'd asked for it, after all. He nodded and put up his fists. She had him on the deck in three moves. She moved back, he got up, his pride wounded and his guard up. They danced around, taking swings at each other. She landed a few. He didn't.
"What kind of man are you, Jayne?" she asked as he ducked another punch.
"Huh?" he asked, because he was paying more attention to her feet, which he knew would trip him if he wasn't careful.
"Do you have morals, standards? Do you draw lines?" Morgan explained.
"Long as I get my cut" Jayne replied. Sure there were things he wouldn't do, but not because of no stupid sense of morality.
"I see" Morgan said. Her feet flew out like he'd known they were going to, and he dropped. She was on top of him with her arm against his windpipe before he could even think about getting up.
"In that case, I feel it's my duty to warn you" Ah. This was why she'd been a General. She was scary.
"If you ever do anything that may in anyway put my son or his father in any sort of danger: I'll kill you" Jayne recognized a threat that didn't require a response when he saw one. She got off of him, and he got out of there.
"Well. What was all that about?" Morgan turned.
"None of your concern, Preacher man" she told him. She grabbed the towel Mal had given her and wiped herself down. Water conservation on any space farring vehicle was of concern. Added to the years of living on fairly arid planets and war, Morgan believed in only using as much as possible.
"Jayne is not an easy man to fell" Book observed, hopeful of a friendly conversation. Captain Renyolds was certainly uninterested in his guidance, but his wife may be a different matter. It was his duty to offer, anyway. And besides, this young woman was a very interesting character.
"Yeah. He's a real brick wall" she laughed. Book had been watching from the shadows and he'd seen how easily she'd brought the man (who was twice as tall as her, at least) down. She leaned up against some crates, open to conversation.
"Captain Renyolds says that you're well educated" the Shepard said, taking the opportunity. If he was to help anyone, they first must trust him.
"Yeah. I was born on Ariel. My parents were among the wealthy elite. I got the best education to be had until I was 13" she replied, "But for some strange reason my parents objected to the Alliance, despite who they were. So we moved to a little planet and started a cattle ranch" She spared him the further details.
"I must admit I'm surprised" Book told her. She shrugged.
"Social graces don't get you far on a backwater planet, or on the battle front"
"I imagine not" Book agreed. He had long since learned not to underestimate the young. Her age was therefore not as surprising to him as it had been to the others.
"I was surprised to learn Mal was traveling with a Preacher man" Morgan said, "He used to go in for God, but I would've thought...well, after everything, he would've cared for Him less"
"Well, I was surprised to learn the Captain had a wife" the Shepard replied, "Especially one as renowned as Morgan Mitchell" He did not feel it was his place to discuss the Captain's relationship with God, even with his wife. Morgan looked put off by his admission.
"Ah, well, we aren't exactly married, Shepard" she told him. Book was further surprised.
"Oh. I merely assumed..."
"Not like we didn't try for it" she amended quickly, "Shepherds were hard to come by during the war. The one we did find had an unfortunate accident before he could get us married" Book understood this, at least. War was full of all sorts of troubles.
"Sir!" Zoë called, coming down the stairs, a smile on her face, "Jayne said you were in need of a sparring partner"
"No. Actually, I've just had a change in plans" Morgan answered, giving her old friend an assesive look, "Shepherd Book here has just given me an idea"