Translations: Are below

Guan ni zi-ji de shi—None of your business

Hun dan—Bastard

Ta ma de—Damn it

December 24th

Mal walked into the kitchen the next morning and got a face full of tinsel. He sneezed twice and batted it away. "Kaylee..."

"Ain't it pretty, Captain?" His mechanic was up on a chair, hammering a nail into the wall to hang a paper chain on. Mal was about to yell at her for making holes in his ship when he noticed the scent. Cinnamon, cloves—oranges.

"What's that smell?"

"It's potpourri," Inara said from beside the stove. "We made it out of the extra spices and some oranges Simon bought the other day. I was going to bring out some incense, but we thought this was more holiday-appropriate."

"Smells better than those weird-ass sticks at least," Jayne remarked, which from him was a compliment. He gulped down the last of his protein mix and chucked the bowl in the sink.

"Jayne." The Shepherd stood in the door. "I believe you are on dish duty."

"Guan ni zi-ji de shi."

Book was unperturbed. "That's hardly in the spirit of Christmas."

"Don't you have no more paper chains, River?" Kaylee jumped off the chair. "I thought we done made enough for the whole kitchen."

River, who'd been holding the box of nails, put it down and pulled three pine boughs out from under the table. "Variation in decoration is key in the establishment of a personal aesthetic. Besides, Simon wanted us to use these too."

"Gorram waste of space," Jayne grumbled, as Mal tried unsuccessfully not to think about the fact that the doctor had apparently bought evergreens and oranges after talking with him about 'em.

"Oh, but he was a tight-fisted hand at the grindstone, was Scrooge!" River smiled brightly at Jayne and whacked him with a pine bough. "A squeezing, wrenching, grasping, scraping, clutching, covetous old sinner!"

Jayne glared. "What're you sayin' about me?"

River stuck out her tongue. "I know your Tiny Tim. His name is Mattie."

"Mattie? How the hell did you know—"

Wash came in, Zoe and Simon with him. "What's this about someone named Mattie? Because I've just gotten everyone's Christmas cards off the Cortex, and you have one signed by him, Jayne. And one from your mother."

"Gimme those!" Jayne grabbed 'em eagerly.

"And Kaylee, you've got about ten from your family." Wash juggled a handful of brightly decorated cards.

"Shiny!" Kaylee jumped off the chair and ran over. "I hope they got the gifts I sent! Weren't much, 'course, but I know what they like."

"Anything for us, husband?" Zoe inquired.

Wash handed her a letter. "This is from your brother and his wife. I've got one from my parents too. They asked about you. I'll tell them I'm attempting to treat you like a queen, and that you keep not letting me."

Zoe grinned. "Gotta make sure we don't starve. It's the thought that counts anyway."

"Ma got the credits I sent," Jayne proclaimed. "And Mattie's all better from the damp-lung."

Wash gave Inara two cards covered in neat calligraphy. "One's from your Companion House. The other's from someone whose name I can't pronounce."

Inara rolled her eyes. "I know who you mean. He's been trying to persuade me to take him on as a client for the past six months. I am glad to get news from my House, though."

Kaylee held up something that, to Mal's unpracticed eye, looked like a patch of colorful mold. "Look! My little cousin Eliza drew this picture for me all herself!"

"Book, you've got a letter from—" Wash squinted. "Your fellow Shepherds."

"My thanks." Book accepted it. "Ah, the winter vegetables are thriving, I'm glad to hear."

Mal glanced at Simon, which he was doing altogether too much these days and really should stop. The doctor's face was carefully arranged into a blank expression and his hands were tightly clasped in front of him. Of course he'd hardly be happy. Christmas cards wouldn't be forthcoming when you were on the run and your folks didn't know where to send 'em.

"I've got some new pictures of my brothers!" Kaylee waved them in the air. "I'll have to hang 'em in my bunk."

Inara laughed. "The things those apprentice Companions get up to. I remember from when I was a girl. My friends and I were just as bad."

"Looks like we're going to have a nephew or niece." Zoe handed her letter to Wash. "Have a look."

"Ma says a scarf is comin' for me in the post." Jayne tucked the cards in his pocket.

"'Wishing you a blessed Christmas,'" Book read aloud. "'We hope the peace of the Christ child will touch you in this season.'"

"Speaking of keeping in touch, Mal, our clients are bothering us again." Wash went over to get out a packet of protein. "It seems something's gone wrong with our proposed meeting place."

"Ain't signed up to baby-sit 'em," Mal grumbled. "Suppose I might as well go deal with it now."

Leaving the overly-festive kitchen, he climbed the stairs to the bridge and entered the wave code he was beginning to know by heart. This time, he had to reassure three people in a row that yes, he actually wanted to talk to Adrianna or Tengfei, and if they didn't fetch 'em, they could gorram well let 'em know why their cargo weren't in the right place. Finally, Adrianna's face appeared on the screen.

"Excellent, you managed to get back to us. We need to change the pickup point."

"Why? Something I should know about?"

"I doubt you'll care. We've got rivals who are trying to cut us out of the crop seed business. We've tried to evade them by trading in winter, but somehow they've gotten wind of where we were supposed to meet. I propose we move the coordinates we've got about five miles east. That'll give us the added benefit of being far away from the city. It's still not calmed down out there."

"Alright. Here's to hoping nothing else will go wrong."

"Here's to hoping." Adrianna ended the wave.

After breakfast, Kaylee and River announced they would decorate the railings up to the bridge. Simon supervised, obviously aware of the danger of leaving River with the rusty scissors again. Zoe cleaned her guns in the kitchen, Jayne and Book lifted weights in the cargo bay, Wash uttered a random string of words that seemed to follow a general gift-wrapping theme and disappeared into his bunk. When Kaylee struck up a round of carols and Book joined in, Mal fled to the closest hiding place, which turned out to be Inara's shuttle.

"Is the great captain scared of holiday melodies?" Inara looked up from her half-arranged tea set, raising a delicate eyebrow. "I would never have thought it."

"I ain't scared. They bother me, is all. Like getting in bed with a cactus. Ever done that?"

"No, I can't say I have."

"Only thing in the 'verse you ain't slept with, then. Hope you've hidden your section of the god Osiris out of River's prying eyes. Think her brother wouldn't take too kindly to her 'starting early,' as Jayne puts it."

Inara rolled her eyes, pouring herself a cup of tea. "I believe the implements of my profession are generally less dangerous than yours."

"Depends whose perspective you're looking at it from." Curiosity got the better of Mal's interest in irritating Inara. "What were you and Kaylee on about yesterday? About something I ought to know about but don't?"

"That isn't my secret to tell. But I think we should talk in any case."

"About what?"

"The fact that you're attracted to me, and I to you, and why neither of us have done anything about it."

Mal got up. "Think I'd rather listen to Christmas carols."

"You're not going anywhere," Inara said calmly. "Because if you do, you'll admit you're afraid of what I have to say."

Damn the woman, she was right. Mal dropped back onto the silk couch. "Alright, speak your piece."

Pouring a second cup of tea, Inara offered it to Mal. "Before you ask, no, I'm not trying to use my wiles on you. I simply happen to think truth goes well with tea."

Warily, Mal accepted the tea. "And what truth are you thinking to tell?"

Inara tucked a stray curl behind her ear. "In my house when I was young, every word out of my father's mouth made it clear he thought I was a burden. My mother needed money to run the house, but she was too sick to work, and he would taunt her by holding it out of her reach."

"Hun dan."

"Yes. Very much so. I never thought every parent, or every man, was like him. But I always promised myself, seeing that, that I'd never be dependent on anyone for my living if I could help it."

"But why be a Companion?" The question came out of Mal's mouth before he could stop it. "Seems to me lots harder than thieving, having to pretend you feel something for all those folks you're with."

"I don't need to pretend. I do feel something, for almost all of them. Often my clients hire me because they just aren't able to have a real relationship. They're too shy, too busy, too unhappy."

"Don't you ever want to have a man who'll stay with you past one night?"

"Of course, at times. But being a Companion means everything to me. It's something I've worked to do well for years, and I'm proud of it. It means I can help people who need it. And it means I'm my own woman. So I won't give it up."

Independence. That was something Mal could understand, well enough, even if he didn't hardly agree with her way of going about the matter. "Wouldn't ask you to."

"I'm glad." Inara paused. "I'll miss everyone when I leave—I think you all are the closest thing to family I've had in a long time. But I don't want to start needing you now, Mal. Especially since I'm not what you need."

"What're you meaning by that?"

"You need somebody whose choices in life you can actually respect, and who can genuinely accept the choices you've made yourself. And neither of us are capable of that with each other, I'm afraid."

"If now's a time for truth…" Mal hesitated. "I do care for you, 'Nara. Ain't hardly a point in denying it."

"I thank you for that." Inara sipped her tea. "But I won't be turned into a way for you to distract yourself."

"Distract myself?"

"I'm trained to perceive attraction, Mal. Do you really think I haven't noticed how you've been watching Simon?"

Ta ma de. "I ain't—"

"You can say it isn't true," Inara interrupted. "But that won't make it any less the case. And although I'm not particularly concerned with you lying to me about it, I am concerned if you keep lying to yourself."

Mal set his tea down. "They ain't singing carols no more. I'm gone."

Inara sighed. "Think about it. Before you lose your chance."

Jayne and the Shepherd were still downstairs when Mal left the shuttle, but it seemed Kaylee and River had taken their Christmas preparations elsewhere. Best to sneak up to the bridge, he decided. If they'd already decorated the railings up to there, they wouldn't stay, would they?

No sound came from the top of the stairs. Mal took the last three in a bound and was about to congratulate himself on an escape well made, when he heard strange, almost haunting music emerging from the copilot's seat. "Hello?"

The music cut off and the seat's occupant jerked 'round to face Mal. It was Simon, and he was holding what appeared to be a cheap tin whistle. "I—hello."

"What've you got there?"

"Oh, it's just a penny whistle." Simon looked embarrassed. "They gave me some credits for treating the injured in the hospital, and one girl whose mother I helped added this in. I tried to give it back, but she insisted."

"And you can play it?"

"I had one when I was younger. I liked it because I didn't have to play it perfectly. But I'm rather out of practice."

"Sounded pretty good when I came in." Mal held out his hand. "Care to let me have a go?"

"Of course, if you'd like." Simon handed over the tin whistle.

Mal hadn't held one of these in years, but it seemed to be a thing you didn't forget. He played a quick reel, then handed it back to Simon. "Out of practice myself. Used to be, I'd play something not too far off from this at barn-raising dances—we had those back on Shadow."

"Why…" Simon trailed off.

"Why what?"

"Why do we never stop on Shadow? We've flown through that system at least twice since River and I came onboard. From the way you talk about your family, I'd have thought you'd want to visit them."

"Can't," Mal said shortly. "Part of Shadow where I'm from? It's black rock. My folks were killed in the war."

"Your family—I'm sorry." Simon stood. "I shouldn't have brought it up—"

"Don't blame you for wondering. Were they alive, I'd visit 'em. Reckon you'd visit your folks too, if you could."

Simon's eyes dropped to the console, where, Mal noticed for the first time, lay a handheld Cortex screen. "I'm not so sure."

That was more bitter-sounding than Mal had ever heard from Simon. "You get bad news there?" He gestured to the screen.

"In a way." Simon gazed at the wall. "It's stupid. Everyone was opening their cards this morning, and I almost wished we'd gotten something too, for River's sake. But even if my parents would send a letter, I don't think I'd want it."

The bitter tone was still there—stronger, even. Mal frowned. "You wouldn't?"

"No. Last time we talked..."

"What?"

Simon glanced back down at the handheld screen. "A few months before we came here, I got caught in a blackout zone, trying to make contacts to help find River. My father came to get me out. He apparently had to leave a very important dinner party."

Mal snorted. "Sounds like Jayne. The man hates being disturbed during his meals."

Simon looked surprised, then smiled a little. "I'm pretty sure neither of them would appreciate that comparison." He sobered. "My father was scared, I understand that. He'd spent half his life trying to build up a reputation as a trustworthy businessman, and now my being a criminal was going to ruin all that."

"Seems to me like when you get a call your son's been arrested, you'll be a mite more worried about him than about your business."

"That's what I thought. Or at least that he'd understand I was doing it to help River." Simon's mouth twisted oddly. "But that wasn't...He said if I got mixed up in anything worse, I was on my own. That he wouldn't come for me again."

"Your folks would leave you to rot in prison?" Mal's voice came out more angry than he'd meant. The thought of Simon being forced to endure the starvation and beatings on a penal moon—it was enough make him want to half-strangle the Tam parents. "Do they got any idea what goes on in places like that?"

"I wanted to think they didn't. But I was on the Cortex today. My parents..." Simon stopped, then went on, low. "I suppose they sent us their own kind of Christmas card. They put out a statement—" he picked up and consulted the screen "—decrying my illegal and immoral behavior in abducting my sister from her exemplary learning institute. And reassuring everyone that in the event of our return, they'll be happy to support all necessary criminal prosecution."

Mal yanked the screen out of Simon's hand and set it on the console. "You did what you had to do. They want to trade family for a little safety, then that's their loss. They don't deserve a daughter like River or a son like you."

"That's not the..." Simon shook his head. "Later, they say they support the voiding of my medical credentials. Which I guess is the Alliance's early Christmas present. Most of my life I've either been a doctor or trying to become one, and now they're trying to take that away too."

"They can't." Mal ignored the urge to put a hand on Simon's, or an arm around his shoulders, or any other definitely-not-good thing like that. "It ain't a piece of paper as let you pull a bullet out of Kaylee's gut like you was born to it. Lets you spin up a medication mix that has your sister smiling again. Restart Zoe's heart, patch Jayne's spine up, get Wash on his feet after Niska ran him through the mill, stitch my ear back on. Those things, they're what make you a doctor."

Simon looked straight at him, and Mal felt a shiver run over his skin. "It means more that you think of me as a doctor than that the Alliance does." He paused. "It's not as if you're any less a captain for not having a piece of paper to prove it."

"Hey, I got papers to Serenity."

"Do they have your name on them?"

"Point taken." Mal leaned on the console. "What you need to captain is the crew, anyways. A man or woman able to get folks to trust 'em deserves a ship, that's my way of looking at it."

"How did you get Serenity? At first I wondered why anyone would buy a Firefly, and then I wondered why everyone didn't. It seems insane that this ship still holds together, and yet it does."

Mal grinned. "That's truth. Matter of fact, when I went to the shipyard to see what I could find, the salesman spent ten minutes talking up some other piece of junk. But when I saw Serenity, I weren't having none of that. Zoe called it a deathtrap."

Simon laughed. "Funny how people end up with these erroneous impressions. I can't imagine what gave her that idea."

"Don't make fun of my ship," Mal told him, mock-serious. "Took us three weeks to get her up and running. But we couldn't take no short cuts. You can't trust a ship to hold up when it comes to the little things, then you can't trust her on the big ones neither. My mama used to say that about people."

"It sounds like your mother was a smart woman."

"You know it. If she ain't drilled that into my skull, this ship might've fallen to bits. And for sure we'd have holes in our protein packs. Let me tell you, it takes a goodly amount of work, getting rats out of some of those secret compartments."

"Hey, Simon!" Kaylee shot up the stairs, followed closely by River. "We need them scissors back!"

"Alright, alright." Simon produced the scissors from where he'd apparently hidden them under the console, and Mal, trying to pretend he hadn't wanted to talk to Simon any more, went to take care of his guns with Zoe.

Despite Mal's determination to ignore Christmas as much as was possible, he couldn't deny the feeling that he might once have referred to as the holiday spirit. River's nonsense was a bit less depressing than usual if no more understandable. Zoe and Wash looked like they'd been married two days past. Book whistled as he cooked, Jayne refrained from more than two rude comments per meal, and Kaylee never stopped beaming.

"None of this tomorrow!" she announced gaily, whisking the remains of their protein dinner off the table. "We had enough coin for breakfast food too!"

"Don't forget the job," Mal warned. "We gotta do that."

"But we have at least 'til Inara gets back," Zoe reminded him. "She told us she'd come late tonight, but if not, we can't leave without her."

Book pushed back his chair. "Before Jayne and I do the dishes—" Mal shot Jayne a look to keep him from arguing "—I thought perhaps someone would like to tell a Christmas story."

"That sounds real nice, Shepherd!" Kaylee agreed.

"We been over this before," Mal broke in. "You're welcome on my boat—"

"And God isn't." Book nodded. "But there are other stories besides those in the Bible. And other people on this ship to tell stories besides me."

"I got one!" Kaylee broke in excitedly. "My grandma used to—"

"Too bad 'Nara ain't here to tell a whorin' story," Jayne groused.

Wash turned to Zoe. "Remember when you and me and Mal went on shore leave and—"

"You ain't telling that one," Zoe told her husband before Mal could yell at him.

River's voice cut through. "Simon's going to tell a story."

Simon jumped. "What? I am?"

"Yes. You're going to tell us the story that always makes you think of Mal."

"River! How did you—I mean, what are you talking about?"

"Now I'm curious, Doc," Zoe remarked.

"I ain't," Jayne muttered. "Ow!" He glared. "Crazy kicked me!"

"Your sister does seem quite set on it." Book nodded at River. "Perhaps you should oblige her."

"I'm not any good at telling stories."

"If you don't, I'll cry. And then I'll kill Jayne with my brain."

"Now there would be a terrible loss," Simon muttered. "Alright, River. You owe me."

Kaylee propped her feet on a chair rung, River tucked her knees under her chin and leaned against the leg. Jayne stuck his knife back in its sheath as Zoe took Wash's hand.

"This is a story from Earth-That-Was. Around six hundred years ago, I think," Simon began. "There was a war. No one really remembers how or why it started. It was a war without ships of any kind, with guns and gas. The ground—the ground they fought over turned to ruins, so they called it No Man's Land. The soldiers would dig into trenches and try to stay there as long as they could." Mal turned to listen despite himself.

"You gonna tell us a story about a hero in that war?" Kaylee asked.

"Sort of." Simon paused a moment. "Often the trenches of both sides wouldn't be very far from each other. One Christmas Eve, the soldiers—they couldn't go home. That night, the ones from the country called England, who were fighting for the country of France, were celebrating as best they could."

"What were the other side called?" Jayne asked, obviously forgetting to look bored.

"Germany. Since the English soldiers hadn't been allowed to go home for Christmas, they shared the packages their relatives had sent. So there they were, in the trenches, and they heard a sound. They were expecting gunfire or shouts." Simon glanced at Mal and quickly looked away. "But they heard something else."

"What did they—" Wash began, when River broke into song, the haunting melody the same as two days back.

"Stille Nacht, heil'ge Nacht,
Hirten erst kundgemacht
Durch der Engel Halleluja,
Tönt es laut von fern und nah:
Christ, der Retter ist da,
Christ, der Retter ist da!"

"They heard singing," Simon went on. "The Germans were singing. Some of the men wrote home about hearing that carol River just sang. I, um, looked it up after the other day. It's called Silent Night.

"What we know is that no countries had arranged a truce that night. France and England and Germany were as much enemies as ever. But on Christmas Eve, the troops on both sides put down their weapons and met between their trenches. Thousands did it, some say tens of thousands.

"They didn't always speak the same language, but they made it clear by signs what they meant. Talked with the men they'd been trying to kill only a few hours before. They shared what Christmas food they had, like chocolate, whiskey, tobacco. A few kicked a football around in the snow, not even keeping score. The commanders tried to stop the truce, but in most cases they couldn't that year.

"The soldiers were never far from their guns, and the next day they went back to being enemies." Simon looked at his hands for a moment. "It was just one small ceasefire. I don't know if that matters to people who've actually been in a war."

"It matters," Mal said quietly, and said no more. Zoe nodded.

River hummed the melody again. Kaylee looked thoughtful, and Book smiled softly. Jayne mumbled something under his breath and Wash watched his wife. Simon looked embarrassed. "That's really all there is to it. They were killing each other, they stopped for a little while, they killed again." He glanced at Kaylee. "You're right, though. It's about heroes. Even if they were heroes for just one night."

The rest of the evening was odd for Mal. Book spoke of the pranks the younger Shepherds played on Christmas, Kaylee told the story of her first snowfall, and Jayne related a tale involving a prostitute and a pie that made even Wash throw a napkin at his head. But it felt like Simon had seen into his head, knowing a story like that would touch him, and Mal weren't sure what to think of that.

Because he already liked Simon too much, and gorram it if he'd let his feelings get the better of his sense.

Note

The story Simon tells in this chapter really happened, during World War I. It's fascinating history—look it up if you like that sort of thing.