Watching with narrowed eyes from the kitchen, Mal considered the bundles of twigs sat at his tiny dining table. Both children (Kinder read his translation book) were picking at their meal of eggs, toast and bacon. He hadn't really looked at the information pack given to him by Inara the previous evening. Both children had spoken barley a word, weather from lack of understanding or nerves, Mal didn't know. What he did know was that he was not fit to look after the children sat in the room next to him. Neither seemed to realise he was there and he reckoned he could just sneak out now and go see Zoe, the co-owner of the general shop next door. He was in desperate need of more milk and butter to accommodate for his new guests (because, despite his dislike, he wasn't going to abuse them) and the pack contained two more ration cards, one for each child. Moving into the small dining room, he frowned as both children jumped at his entrance, snapping up to attention and stopping their picking.
"I'm just heading out. Won't be long. Don't go anywhere, okay?" Inara had suggested speaking in simple terms so as to reduce any confusion, even if it did make him sound like an idiot. The eldest one (Simon, his brain recalled), spoke up in an almost emotionless tone, replying to his rhetorical question with a simple "Yes, sir, Mr Reynolds." Again, Mal frowned at the formal words but shrugged, figuring it was common practice in Germany. Moving through the room and into the entrance corridor, he took his jacket off the hook, gave one last look behind him, and walked out.
Within a minute he was stood inside the shop, feeling uncommonly awkward as Zoe weighed out the necessary amounts. Everyone had seen him ride into the town on Mr Frye's wagon with the children and he was expecting for all the gossipers of the village to pounce on him at once in a coordinated military operation. Zoe, upon seeing his nervous expression, smirked and let out a slight laugh at seeing her friend completely out of his depth. Mal's head snapped to her and he glared (though without any heat) at her. Struggling to calm herself, she handed over his wares and gave up the pretence as she snipped away at the ration book. Being that they were a rural village with many successful farms around them, they did not have to rely on the book as much as those in the city – they just gave the farmers a little extra for their goods and nobody said anything to nobody – so Zoe only took one small square from one of the rations books. As Mal turned to leave, Wash sauntered in and gave a toothy grin at the sight of him.
"Hey Mal! Heard you turned father this week."
Mal grumbled and pushed away the arm that had crept around his shoulders. Wash, being a fundamentally cheery individual, was not deterred and caught the fleeing man by the shoulders, spinning him round and leading him to a chair at the other end of the shop, chatting all the while with his hands flapping in half-finished gestures.
"I think it's wonderful, don't you darling? I mean Mal, we had you pegged for a staunch bachelor of pride so it's nice to see you interact with your domestic side, y'know"
Mal muttered threats under his breath whilst Zoe just hummed in amusement and dragged her husband away, telling him in a mock-firm voice: "You can't bother him honey, he has to get back to the kids. Can't leave them city critters alone too long." She waved him off but he didn't notice, his scowl was so big. He hurried out of the shop and breathed heavily. Nobody other than him or Inara knew where the children actually came from and he found he was rather nervous at the thought of telling anyone – what if they thought he was working with the enemy or something? Shaking his head, he made his way back to his house.
It was with a small degree of shock that he found both children exactly where he left them. They had been communicating quietly but, at his appearance, they both quietened and sat up straight once again. The plates in front of them were empty apart from the bacon. Surely all children liked bacon? Putting his purchases on the counter in the kitchen, he re-entered the room and stood beside the table, looking down at them. Neither would meet his eye.
"What's the matter, don't you like bacon?"
Both children glanced at each other and were silent for a moment before Simon tried to reply in a soft, shaky tone.
"We do not know, sir. We have never, ahm, tried it?" The end, gently pushed out of his mouth, sounded like a question and Mal became confused at the answer. If they had never tried it, then why didn't they now? He asked them in a minutely bewildered tone.
"We cannot sir. We are, ahm, Juden." Mal stared at them, uncomprehending. His face must have signalled something because they both started squirming in the chairs, looking away from him and onto he wooden table in front of them.
"What is it now?"
"Would you please pass my bag to me, please, sir?"
Slightly confused at the worried tone, he turned and located the small cloth bag and handed it to him. The boy, with a nervous glance at him first, dug through its meagre contents and found a tattered book which he held aloft as though it were Excalibur. The title was in German and the boy flicked through it furiously before his face alighted in a 'Eureka!' expression. Coughing to clear his throat, he tried again.
"I am sorry sir, we cannot eat the bacon. We are Jewish."
Both River and Simon wilted under Mal's gaze, fearful that once again they would be hurt for something they believed in; it had happened too many times before.
River fumbled under the table until she managed to catch her brother's hand. Mr Reynolds had gone into the front room without saying a word; surely that meant he now hated them? He would be just like the men back in Germany who hated them for no real reason, beating and starving them just to make a point. Too many times she had been curled up and moaning from hunger pains because some horrid man couldn't understand that they were people too. Even in the ghetto they had been forced to live in, the police would happily come and take their last morsel of food just for fun.
She felt her brother's fear through his slightly trembling fingers. He hadn't slept, she knew, and this sudden twist must be wreaking havoc on his nerves. Gazing at him fearfully, she was grateful for his attempt to put on a brave face in their unfortunate circumstances. Simon had always done his best to protect her and she loved him more than ever for it. He had always jumped to take her beatings whilst happily giving her his last bit of bread (if it could even be called that); at nights he would lie awake and tell her fantastical stories of a world where they travelled through space in a strange metal box that could fly like a firefly. Unlikely, but it helped her to sleep anyway.
Hearing a noise from the living room door, they both turned, eyes widening in fear at the sight of their 'caretaker' holding a white-hot fire poker, pointed right at them. They both shot to their feet. He opened his mouth to no doubt shout at them about how they were abominations but Simon, being the child martyr that he was, jumped in front of her, crying out for Mr Reynolds to hurt him, not River. River, too overwhelmed by it all (she was only 9 afterall), crouched to the floor, hugging her brother's legs and let out quiet sobs. Through her tears, she watched, surprised, as Mr Reynolds stumbled from the room. Simon, not wanting to waste a moment, turned around and stood River up, moving her into the corner of the room. The door to the outside was shut and neither Simon nor River could reach the latch in order to escape. Anxious about his return, Simon dragged a chair over too her and placed it in front of her like a guard. He stood in front of it, too frightened to grab a weapon for fear of a worse punishment.
"Don't worry River, I'll protect you. I won't let him hurt you."
Her brother reached a shaky hand through the open back of the chair, similar to the way a soldier gives his hand out of a train window or a prisoner reaching for the loved one he is being forced to leave. She grabbed and squeezed hard, utterly convinced that Mr Reynolds would beat her brother, possibly to death. She let out a small sob and he immediately hushed her, uttering nonsensical words to calm her down.
Mal, after being sick through the living room window, slowly approached the dining room door, careful to keep his hands visibly empty at his sides. Stepping into the room, his heart dropped at the sight of Simon guarding his sister, whom crouched in the corner of the room behind a chair, tears rolling down both their cheeks. How could they even think that he would…..
Internally shaking his head, Mal pieced it together slowly. He, of course, was aware of the treatment of Jews in Germany and it should have clicked earlier that these two had been sent here to escape that. Why else would there be German children allowed to hide out in the English countryside? Sighing quietly, he moved forward a step, immediately stopping as both children tensed up even further – if such a thing were possible. The boy clenched his fists and gulped audibly, shifting himself so that he blocked out Mal's view of his sister. It was painfully evident what the boy was expecting from him; looking at the bruises and cuts on his pale face, it should never have been a shock.
Slowly, Mal dropped to his knees. Making sure he used cautious movements, he put his hand in his pocket, feeling the fear from their gazes like heat from the sun. He gingerly removed his hand from his pocket, withdrawing with it a tiny chocolate bar that he had gotten from the Sunday market over in Whitefall, their neighbouring village. To his surprise, only Simon seemed to recognise the food, even if the packaging was unfamiliar to him. Putting on his most reassuring smile (which he had been informed looked like a man in a serious amount of pain), he gestured with the bar, doing his best to ignore the small flinches he generated.
"Come on. I ain't gonna hurt you. I promise."
Even if they didn't fully understand, something in his voice must have confirmed his sincerity for them because Simon, never taking his eyes off Mal, moved the chair out of the way and drew his sister up slowly be the hand. Leading her towards him, though with his rail thin body still in front, Simon motioned for her to take the chocolate. She did so with great reluctance. When her nervous hands did not permit her to open it, he watched as Simon took it from her and opened it easily, handing it back quickly as though he anticipation of her eating it outweighed his fear in Mal. Saying that, they stood stock still, as though they feared their limbs would not support them if they tried to move.
River took a bite and Mal watched in surprised amazement as her little body seemed to convulse in enjoyment. She hurriedly took another bite before offering it to Simon; the boy refused and, after a quick glance at Mal, seemed to tell her in their own language to sit at the table and eat it all. She hesitated for a moment, clearly uncomfortable with the idea of him not having any, but at his further urging she went and sat, legs swinging – she appeared to have forgotten all about him.
Simon hadn't though, and he watched suspiciously as Mal stood up, wiping the dirt of his trousers. The boy was practically vibrating with tension and neither spoke; Simon watched his sister slowly savour the rest of the chocolate and Mal looked everywhere else. After a moments awkwardness, Simon coughed almost inaudibly and spun to speak to him.
"Thank you, Mr Reynolds. That was very generous of you. I will find some way to, ahm, was ist das Wort? Ah, yes." This part was whispered. "return it to you."
Mal's brow furrowed at this and he looked at the boy strangely. Why would he feel the need to 'return' it? However, considering what sort of life they must have had back in their home country, he realised they probably weren't used to kindness from strangers.
"Don't worry about it. The ways she's devouring that thing you'd think she'd never had chocolate before." He chuckled awkwardly but stopped when he caught Simon mouthing the word 'devouring' to himself. Slapping himself mentally for his lapse, he amended his sentence.
"I mean, eating quickly."
"Oh. That is because she has not, sir."
Mal could only gape at him.
Simon and River gazed in surprise at the bed in front of them; neither of them had slept in one for months so it was a shock to be told they had been given one and that, tomorrow, Mr Reynolds would be bringing another up so they could both have one. The room, whilst small, was cosy and the attic window provided a nice view of the village – when it wasn't covered in something called 'blackout curtains'.
Simon was still unsure of Mr Reynolds and a large part of him told him that this was all a ploy to hurt them even more later on. Still, it would be wrong of him to deny his sister this; she had never experienced a world without hate or fear. He only had a few hazy memories about a time before the world turned against them. Mr Reynolds had brought their bags up for them – thankfully untouched- and so Simon helped River change into her nightdress, being careful not to touch any of the sore spots on her still healing body.
The bed was only small so he allowed her to have it. She was too tired to argue and, as soon as her head touched the pillow, she was fast asleep, occasionally letting out small whimpers. Simon smoothed out his bag and rested his head atop it. Sleep did not come easy to him that night. Unbeknownst to him, it did not come easy to Mal either.
