At 5:47 am, local time, Zoe gave one last almighty push, squeezed Hank's hand so hard that he knew if he hadn't been wearing Freya's glove he wouldn't be flying Serenity for weeks, and a new life entered the 'verse.

"Is he okay?" Hank asked, cutting the umbilical cord where Simon told him.

"He's fine." The young doctor laid the boy on his knee and wiped away the worst of mucus, before wrapping him in a clean blanket that Inara handed to him, crying openly.

"Only he ain't making a sound."

Simon looked up at the pair. "Some babies don't. But he's breathing fine. I'd say he's just a good baby."

"Can I …" Zoe began, almost diffidently, nothing like the warrior woman they all knew.

Laughing slightly, Simon nodded. "Of course," he said, standing up and walking around the bed. "Here." He handed Zoe her first-born son, and Hank let his tears of joy fall.

Moving the corner of the blanket to one side, she gazed down at her little child. "Hi there," she whispered, and felt the ghosts gathering.

Her parents, Tom and Meg Alleyne, smiled at their grandson. Book was saying a prayer of thanks, his calm face open with happiness for them. And Wash, approaching the bed and leaning over them, his loud Hawaiian shirt almost overcoming the noise in the room.

"He's cute," she almost heard him say. "Sorry, Zoe. Should've been mine."

"He's beautiful," she whispered, holding him close.

"That he is. My lambie-toes did good." There was a suggestion of bright fabric moving closer. "Hey, there, kiddo. I'm your Uncle Wash. Might see me around, might not."

The baby lifted both hands.

"Looks like he's got a whole lotta you in there, sweetcake. And the flyboy." Wash grinned. "Be good for your momma." A movement through the air might have been a hand patting the baby's head, then the room was empty save for the live members of Serenity's crew.

---

He'd left Zoe in the bedroom, sleeping. The cot was pulled close to the bed with his brand new son in, and he'd spent a good hour just staring. Watching. Not able to believe his good luck. He wondered if this was how Mal felt when Ethan was born, how Simon felt …

A little boy. His child. A son to carry on the family name. That is, if Zoe wanted him to. They hadn't actually talked about that, he realised now, whether their baby would be a Mills or a Washburne. Or an Alleyne, for that matter. He didn't care. He was so over-awed with the experience that she could have said his name was going to be Cobb and Hank wouldn't have minded. Well, maybe a little.

In fact, it had got just a little too much for him, and he needed some fresh air before he actually fell down. He stepped out onto the balcony, heading down the steps and into the orchard. He remembered the first time they'd visited, and the party they'd had out under the trees. The second time they'd left Inara behind, and now … now when they left, they'd be taking a new member of the crew. His son.

He looked up towards the rising sun, just appearing above the smudge of hills on the horizon. There was a heavy frost in the air, and maybe even just a hint of snow coming down from the north, but right now this was where he needed to be.

"All too much for you?" came a familiar voice from out of the semi-darkness.

He peered under the trees, his eyes adjusting enough to see Mal sitting on a log by the remains of the bonfire. "Oh, hi. Yeah, maybe a little." He shrugged. "Kinda feel guilty, though. Not wanting to be with my … my son."

"That don't wear off for a while, you know," Mal smiled. "That kick to the old heart every time you say those words."

"I doubt it ever will."

"And there ain't nothing to feel guilty about." Mal looked back out into the dawn. "It's been something of a roller-coaster, and … well … a man needs some space."

"Yeah." The he realised Mal was smiling. "Course, it can be good to talk to someone too," he added quickly. "And I owe you an apology. For what I did earlier."

"Hey, pregnancy causes all sorts of odd hormonal mood swings. So I'm told."

"Yeah, but ain't that generally for the woman?"

"I think it applies to the father too."

"I just … it kinda overwhelmed me."

"It happens." Mal nodded. "You really wanted kids, didn't you?"

"Always," Hank admitted, joining him on the log. "Me and Risa, we never got the chance, and I never thought Zoe'd …" He shook his head. "Kinda glad, though."

"Glad?"

"Okay. Delighted. Ecstatic. On cloud nine. And a half."

"Better."

"How do you feel?"

"Me? Nothing to do with me."

"That's not true. Zoe's been your best friend for years. Saw you through the war, and after. Now she's a mother. How do you feel about that?"

Mal thought for a moment. "Kinda odd, if truth be told. Although I've got me this mental picture of her holding a kid on her hip with one hand, and firing a gun at the bad guys with the other."

"Unfortunately, I've got the same picture." Hank shuddered.

"Bit like Freya, I guess. It won't change her, you know."

"No." He sighed. "I guess it won't."

Mal half-turned. "You want it to?"

"No, no," Hank protested, maybe just a little too vehemently. "It's just … she puts her life on the line so often, and sometimes I wonder if …" He stopped, aware he was about to commit something of a gross error in judgement with his captain.

Mal patted him on the leg. "Hank, you try and stop her, and you'll see if she's become warm and fuzzy. Not that she isn't."

"Of course not." Hank looked up into the sky, to the stars just beginning to fade. "I feel like I should be giving out cigars," he said.

"Could. Only I think you'd have to get 'em off Jayne first."

"Maybe not, then."

"Although I've got those ones Kilbrook sent. Remind me later and I'll get 'em out."

"Thanks."

"Anyways, people don't need bribing to be happy for you and Zoe."

"No, not for that. Just to … celebrate."

"Oh, well, if it's celebration you want …" Mal reached down beside him and lifted up a bottle of something that moved slowly in the low light.

"That what I think it is?"

"Kaylee's finest, matured for all of six months." He didn't explain it was his own little celebration too. That would come later.

"Wow. That old. And should we be drinking this time of the morning?"

"Just consider it's actually really, really late. Think you can handle it?"

"Hey, I'm a father. I can handle anything."

"Okay." Mal flicked the stopper off with his thumb and handed it over.

Hank sniffed experimentally. Smelled okay. Then, with a feeling that maybe this wasn't the best idea in the world, tipped the bottle up. The liquid filled his mouth and he swallowed. "Gah!" he managed to say.

"Yep," Mal said happily. "Well up to her usual standards." He took it back and swigged a mouthful himself, keeping the tremble that ran through his body to a minimum.

"Six months?" Hank managed to say, blinking hard.

"Uh huh."

"I think she over did it." He opened his mouth wide, just to see if his jaw still worked.

"I'll let you off as you're still in shock, otherwise I'd tell Kaylee what you just said."

"Please don't. I'd really rather like to see my first born again."

Mal laughed. "Okay." He held out the bottle. "Better take another. It makes the taste go away."

"How?"

"Not sure. Seems to cancel it out somehow."

Hank warily did as he was bid, letting the alcohol slip down his throat. "You know," he croaked, "I think you're right."

They sat there companionably for a while, as the horizon became clearer and the sun rose, passing the bottle back and forth, just being two fathers together. Then Hank laughed.

"What?" Mal asked. "That stuff finally fried the last of your brain cells?"

"No. Just thinking to the first time we all sat out here."

"You mean before Inara took it into her head to buy this place?"

"Yeah. And the wonderful concoction Simon called Mal's Cocktail."

Mal smiled. "Yeah, that was kinda hard to forget."

"And I've tried." Hank waved the bottle. "Made the events after seem almost … tame."

"You mean losing my boat and you having to play cards to win the money to get her back?"

"Yeah, that."

"Not sure if tame is the word I'd use," Mal pointed out.

"Oh, I don't know. I knew what I was doing."

"You could've lost everything."

"Nah. I'm too rutting good for that. 'Sides, won me enough money to buy back my boat."

"Your boat?"

Hank blushed, luckily unnoticed in the early light. "Slip of the tongue."

"Not sure I believe that." Mal grabbed for the bottle. "You've been a mite too proprietorial about my boat ever since you got back from Magdalene."

"Ain't nothing, Mal." He wanted to stop there, but his alcohol-loosened lips wouldn't obey. "I just kinda felt that I won the money that paid off Rankin, through the sweat of my brow, and I could've just kept it, only I know Zoe would never have spoken to me again, but it was mine, and I bought her back." The words stopped falling out of his mouth and he looked guilty.

"Really." Mal nodded slowly. "The fact that if you hadn't all gone off with her in the first place to make a little extra coin you wouldn't have been in that position, is entirely beside the point?"

Hank peered at him. "It wasn't my idea." He poked Mal. "And we got her back."

Mal idly wondered whether to kill him now or later, and instead consoled himself with another pull at the bottle, which seemed to be a lot lighter than before. "She ain't yours, Hank. Serenity's mine, bought and paid for."

"Not saying she ain't," Hank said quickly. "Just feels like she's … almost mine."

"Almost." Mal pondered. "Okay. Almost I can live with."

"'Kay." This time as Hank reached for the bottle he slid off the log with a thump, sitting on the grass that cracked with frost. "Ow."

"You okay?" Mal lifted an eyebrow. "You want I should call the doc?"

"I don't think I've done more'n bruised my dignity."

Mal winced. "Hey, that can be nasty. Should get Zoe to look at that for you."

"You know," Hank said, climbing to his feet, "I think I will. Be about time to go take another look at my off-spring."

"Just don't breathe on him," Mal advised.

Hank held his hand in front of his mouth and huffed, sniffing quickly. He recoiled. "Yeah, maybe you're right. I'll just admire him from a distance." He pulled his jacket straighter and headed off towards the house.

Mal grinned and took another mouthful of liquor. Funny, but he seemed to have got used to it.

A hand came out of the shadows and took the bottle from him.

"Wha …" He looked up to see Freya moving to sit down next to him. "Hey, you can't drink that. Not in your condition," he said, reaching for the booze.

"And you've had enough." She smiled at him. "You and Hank have a nice chat?"

Mal nodded. "Man to man. Captain to pilot."

"Father to father?"

He smiled. "That too." He felt Freya shiver a little. "You cold?" he asked, surprised.

"Mal, it's gorram freezing out here."

"Really?" He looked around, seeing the sun rising over the mountains in the distance. "Can't feel a thing."

"Not surprised." She carefully put the stopper back on the bottle. "You've got internal fuel working right now."

"It's good stuff. Gotta remember to tell Kaylee."

"Well, you can do that in a minute or two. I came out to let you know that it's time for breakfast."

"Food?" He winced. "Not sure I can face that on an empty stomach."

"It isn't empty, Mal. It's full of Kaylee's finest, and if you don't get something to eat you're gonna be sick as a dog later."

"I never get sick."

"No?" She looked at him, the sunlight just beginning to catch the planes of her face, and he could see she was smiling a little.

"Okay. Maybe once in a while," he admitted. "But never on Kaylee's stuff."

She grinned. "Well, I don't know about you, but I'm hungry. It's been a long couple of days, and I need food." She stood up and he followed, a little unsteady.

"Gotta keep your strength up," he agreed. "Eating for two 'n' all."

"You know that's a myth, don't you?"

He put his arm around her waist. "You got my kid in there. Ain't no way he ain't gonna get exactly what he needs."

"He?"

"Or she. Either'd be fine." His face softened. "Although, if you got any say in the matter, make it a girl."

"Someone for you to spoil?"

"Yeah." He leaned down and kissed her gently, then reared back. "Sorry, I must stink."

She grabbed his face. "Not enough that I don't want you to." She pressed her mouth to his.

When she let him go, his heart was racing and his blood pumping. "You do realise you keep doing that, we're never going to get to this meal."

She laughed and took his hand. "Then let's go eat. Plenty of time for that after."

"I've got Hank thinking Serenity's his, and now you're ordering me around again." He shook his head wonderingly. "Not sure what the 'verse is coming to."

"Then you'd better do what you're told," Freya said gently.

He laughed and saluted sloppily. "Yes, ma'am, Captain Reynolds."

They strolled, arm in arm, back towards the warmly-lit house, and the sounds of laughter rolling out from within.