A/N: Shout out to Quiet Ryter, thanks for sticking with the story! Glad you enjoy it :)

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The pain was back again, and it felt just like that three-pronged nightmare that Niska used to kill him with that one time. Each breath was like sandpaper scraping at his throat, and Mal's voice was hoarse and raw from every choked scream.

"Just breathe, Mal," Inara whispered, "just breathe."

Inara. She was... somewhere in front of Mal. He hadn't been able to open his eyes in a while, but he felt her hand. Every time the pain came back, her hand was there. Mal figured he'd broken at least one of her fingers by now. Gorram it, his whole body felt like it was breaking. And weak... he felt weak. Like that time he was shot, left alone and bleeding on Serenity with a compression coil and no crew.

'Cept this was worse.

How long had the pain been coming and going? Little less than an hour, Mal guessed. The spasms, or whatever the gorram hell Inara had called them - contractions? - were coming every three minutes now. Another one was fixing to come soon, within the next few seconds...

Mal writhed against the wall as another burst of pain split his abdomen, and he let out a harsh scream through clenched teeth. He heard Inara in the distance, telling him to breathe... why couldn't he breathe? His chest felt like it was imploding, like he'd breathed in smoke. His shirt was soaked and clinging to his skin, and his pants...

No, his pants were gone. Inara had managed to get them off of him. Said something about them being in the way. Mal was sickened by the idea that he knew exactly what she was talking about. He hadn't completely avoided what was happening to him - he did know how this thing was supposed to work. Problem was, the books only talked about when it happened with women. He wasn't a woman. He seriously doubted it felt like this for them.

"Son of a bitch," Mal snarled weakly as the contraction passed. He suddenly found himself flashing back to those times his mother shot him a raised and glaring eyebrow and regaled him with horror stories of his own birth. The captain found he respected his mother more now for getting through this pain and being able to joke about it afterwards, when her son was older and still cringing at the idea of birth-giving.

Mal was cringing now. His whole body felt like it was on fire, and the only thing about the situation that even resembled positive was Inara. Without her... no, Mal didn't want to think about that. Looking back it was stupid of him to try and hide anything from Inara, and though she knew about it by accident, Mal was still relieved that someone was able to help him. It was hard enough to not tell Zoe, who he should've been able to trust... and Jayne. Now Jayne was going to know, and he was going to hate Mal for it. Maybe the whole crew would.

"Mal!" Inara's voice called. She sounded distant, but her voice got clearer when her hand slapped against the side of Mal's head gently. "Mal, you have to stay awake. I know it must hurt, but you have to focus!"

Awake? 'Course I'm... gorram it. Mal hadn't even noticed that he was fading. His body was exhausted, and he wanted to go to sleep or black out or lose all capability of sensation. Any of those options would stop this rutting pain.

"Think of this as a... as a job, Mal, a job you have to complete," Inara continued. Mal slumped his head to the side and looked at her with half-lidded eyes. She tried to smile encouragingly at him, but the attempt was weak, and the Companion bit her lip. "If it helps, don't think about... it." Mal let out a wheezing breath that tried to become a snort. Inara was trying so hard not to call it by its actual name. Mal knew what it was... a baby. He just didn't want to know that. Maybe that was why he hadn't told anyone.

Easier to ignore the truth when you were the only one who knew. It was less of a truth that way.

Mal winced. He was a gorram idiot.

Inara's hand was resting on his knee, and he found his way to her fingers with his and grabbed onto her tightly. Pressure was building up inside him, threatening to pull him back into darkness if he didn't fight to stay awake and coherent. A queasy feeling, like sleep deprivation and undercooked food, wasn't helping him focus, either. It felt like he was going to throw up at some point - and he was sure it said something about his priorities when his only thought was that he didn't want to throw up on the floor of Inara's shuttle. Never mind the fact that his body was practically deconstructing itself in order to let something get out.

The only soothing thing that Mal could find in this agonizing situation was the sound of Inara's voice. Inara... she put up with so much from him, didn't she? Callin' her a whore and insulting her choice of occupation, putting her through hell knows how many bad situations with his own line of work... the same could pretty much be said for any of his crew, loyal fools that they were, but Inara seemed to fit into a special category. She was still here, after all this time. Mal made a mental note to never again underestimate her, even for a second.

Though, truth be told, he should probably be more worried about his own abilities, and he had a feeling that he was overestimating them. He thought he was tough, having survived a gorram war when he was on the losing side. And there was the time with Niska to take into account... but this pain just kept coming, and a horrid idea was forming in Mal's head as to why the pain was getting worse. It was coming in predictable waves now, rippling through his body like fire on the inside of Serenity.

"Inara..." he croaked, clenching his teeth down hard and shifting against the wall until he was sitting up straighter.

Her voice was there in a second. "I'm here, Mal."

Straining, struggling, clawing at his insides... "Inara, I think it's... tah-shr suo-yo dee-yure duh biao-tze duh mah, it's starting to..." A harsh breath prevented Mal from finishing that sentence, but he had the feeling that Inara understood what he was trying to say. Her face paled only slightly, and she placed a tentative hand over Mal's stomach, as if to try and feel what his body was doing. If the look on her face said anything, it said she knew just as well as Mal, and she liked it about as much, too.

"Mal... I know you're not going to like this..." Mal's chest tightened, heart throbbing and thrashing against his ribcage like a convict trying to escape prison. He knew what she was going to say. He hated it. Inara must've seen the discomfort hidden behind his squeezed-shut eyelids, because she paused for a moment - but only a moment. Then she continued softly, "Mal, I know you don't want to hear me tell you what to do - let's face it, you don't like anyone telling you what to do - but you have to listen to me now. I just want you to concentrate on breathing. Listen to what your body is telling you. Try not to pay attention to what I'm doing."

His neck was stiff from cringing. It took a bit of effort, but Mal managed a nod. As Inara instructed, he focused on each next inhale and exhale, and he tried not to think about anything else. For the most part it worked, but he was still distantly aware of Inara gently pushing on his knees, slowly prying his legs apart. He had to fight the instinct to slam his legs closed, to cower against the wall and crumple into a ball of pain and fear.

"Mal." Her voice. Why did it seem so far away? It was like she was whispering, drowned out by a new ringing sound in Mal's ears. Still, even if he could hear her, it seemed like his body was listening. And she'd told him to listen to his body, and despite his initial and utter refusal to acknowledge what was happening, he was listening now. Inara's words were translated in the ripple of pressure building in his abdomen, the subtle feeling of movement inside him, and the overwhelming urge to get it out.

"Mal, you need to push."

The ripple turned into a crushing wave of dense, aching pain. It gnawed at his insides until it started getting sharper. As the contraction intensified, Mal squeezed his eyes shut and clenched his entire body, particularly his abdomen. For a few moments, he stopped breathing entirely in favor of putting all his energy into pushing. Ten, fifteen seconds passed before the contraction ended, and the only bright spot Mal could find was that he was just a little closer to it being over.

He was allowed to breathe easily for a little under a minute before it started again. Just like the first time, Inara's voice was there. She sounded so demanding... but to be honest, Mal probably wouldn't have listened otherwise. "Again, Mal," she urged. "Push!"

The contraction was stronger this time, and Mal screamed outright. He pressed down, buckling into himself and dropping his chin to his chest, but he kept pushing. He hated it, but he kept it up until it was over. His heartbeat was hammering in his chest like thunder. It hurt. It hurt so gorram much, and he knew it was going to continue. He didn't know for how long, but any time at all was still too much. He just wanted it over.

"You're doing good, Mal," Inara breathed. Mal shifted his gaze over to her and saw a smile of encouragement on her face. He shook his head and let out a half-choked breath that was almost a laugh.

"Inara... thank you," he murmured, each syllable lingering thick and heavy on his tongue.

She chuckled. "You're welcome, Mal. Now just concentrate. I can see its head, you're almost there."

Mal didn't catch the last part. All he knew was he could feel it inside him, struggling to get out, and he'd be dammed if he was going to let it keep hurting him for any longer than he had to. Then again, he was sure he was already dammed, in one way or another, though this kind of pain seemed a little extreme even for Hell. Grating his teeth, he choked back another scream and braced for the next contraction.

The pain kept coming and going. Eventually it felt like Mal was reaching his breaking point, if he hadn't passed it already, and he was sure Inara had to be nearing the end of her sanity and patience. As the most recent contraction ended, Mal sagged to the wall, chest heaving as he sucked in haggard breath after haggard breath. Twisting his neck and shoulders, he tried to find some kind of comfort in where he was sitting, but everything just felt cold and hard and sharp and agonizing.

He had to be near the end, right?

"Come on, Mal, just a little more...!" Inara urged, her voice breathy and anxious. Mal writhed against the wall, every breath coming short and harsh and his muscles straining in desperation. His body was depleted. He had no strength left in him, but still he forced himself to bite down and push. It was almost over. His sides throbbed, and a choked scream left his lungs. Inara... she was somewhere, but he couldn't see her anymore. He could still feel her, though - one hand braced on his knee and the other holding onto his.

"Good job, Mal. Good job," he heard her whisper. "You're almost there. Just one more time."

One more... he could do that, couldn't he? He supposed he didn't have a choice. Besides, Malcolm Reynolds wasn't a man to give up, not like this. Oh, he wanted to just give up and lay there until his body tore itself to pieces, but it was just one more time. One more time, one more wave of pain, and it would be over. Over and done, at least until he came to his senses. At the moment, he'd forgotten that this kind of situation was never exactly over.

The pain came again, one more time. This time, above the sound of his voice scraping against the inside of his throat and above the stench of sweat and blood, he could feel it slipping. He could feel it leaving him. Somewhere, he heard Inara gasp sharply, and she suddenly ripped her hands away from Mal. Forcing his eyes to open, the captain saw a blurry figure that he assumed was Inara. She was looking at him, or more specifically, a part of him she probably never really wanted to see. For the moment Mal didn't care one way or the other.

It was gone. The pain was gone.

Mal collapsed against the wall, shivering and breathing in hoarse wheezes. He was drenched in sweat, and his shirt was sticking to his skin in an uncomfortable way, but at least he wasn't being split open anymore. The pain was gone. It was over. As he shifted against the wall, trying to find some position where he didn't just ache everywhere, Mal felt something else leave his body, leaving a slithering sensation in its wake. He heard Inara moving, moving away from him and over to where he thought her table was. In a moment she was back.

Opening his eyes until he could just barely see, Mal saw the glint of scissors in Inara's hand. He heard the sound of them snipping, but he didn't know what they were snipping. At least, he didn't know until he heard it.

It started softly. In fact, Mal wasn't even sure if he was hearing anything to begin with. Then it got louder, until he could hear it very clearly. Only then did he force himself to open his eyes all the way. He almost wished he hadn't. Hearing it was bad enough. Crying... it was crying. At least it wasn't screaming... but still. The sound of its cries was more than enough to remind Mal of this strange and cruel reality he now lived in, and he wanted to hate it. He wanted to hate it so badly.

He looked away. He turned his head to the wall and looked away.

While Mal recovered, Inara was busy cleaning the mess from her shuttle. As soon as she finished wiping the blood and other fluids from her hands and from the floor, she shoved the cloth away and payed no more attention to it. She did the same thing with the afterbirth. She could worry about getting rid of that later. In the meantime, there was a much larger issue occupying her mind. Already that 'issue' had started crying.

Quickly Inara retrieved one of the smaller blankets from her bed and wrapped the fabric around the tiny pinkish thing that was so new to the world. She'd already cut and tied the placenta, and as soon as she wrapped the little one in the blanket Inara glanced up at Mal. The man was looking away. Inara pursed her lips, just a little bit irritated by the fact that Mal still refused to acknowledge everything that had just happened. He was a gorram idiot, but Inara didn't say that. He'd probably told himself that enough already.

She reminded herself that Mal's situation was rather unique, and he had a right to be uncomfortable. But that didn't mean Inara couldn't try to encourage him just a little bit. "Mal?" she began softly. She was startled by how choked up she sounded. She hadn't expected that, but... she had a good reason to be a little emotional. "Mal, please, just... just look at her."

Inara saw his throat clench. After a sharp yet quiet breath, she heard Mal mumble, "'Her'?"

Finally. There was hope for the captain yet. Inara felt a smile split her face, and she nodded. "Yes. It's a girl. Mal... Mal, she's beautiful. Please. Just look at her. You can at least do that."

A heartbeat passed by in silence, and Inara wasn't sure if Mal would listen to her. Then the baby, the tiny newborn girl, started to cry again. It was subtle, but Inara could see that Mal was fighting the temptation to ignore the sounds. Then, slowly but surely, the man turned his head and looked at the baby girl. He swallowed harshly, and the little one kept crying. Inara thought it looked like Mal was ready to cry, but he didn't. His whole body was shaking, though.

Without a word, Inara moved closer and held out her arms. Mal's eyes flicked over to her, and his mouth hung open slightly, as if he wanted to say something or tell her to take the baby away. Inara half expected him to say something along those lines, but Mal wasn't a heartless man. Far from it, in fact, and a few moments later he proved it again. He was hesitant, and understandably so, but he lifted his arms slowly and took the wrapped up infant from Inara. As she passed the little girl to him, she could feel Mal's arms tremble. The man was exhausted.

But he was holding her. Mal was holding the baby, the little girl... his daughter. Inara had no idea if he was thinking of her like that, and she didn't really expect him to make that connection, not yet. Right now, it was enough that the pain was over with and both of them were safe and relatively undamaged. As far as Inara could tell, the baby girl was healthy. Her cries were soft but strong.

Standing up, Inara was aware of Mal following her movements as she walked toward the shuttle door. Turning her head back to look at him, she said, "I'm just going to find you a change of clothes. I doubt you want to stay in those for much longer." Mal most likely had a nervous disposition toward being alone with the infant that had just put him through so much stress, but he was going to have to get used to her. As soon as Mal nodded, Inara ducked out into Serenity and made haste for Mal's quarters.

Mal watched Inara leave and listened to her footsteps until they disappeared. Only then did he glance back down at the infant girl in his arms. Swallowing uncertainly, he tried to figure out what to do with her now. At the moment, he didn't particularly feel like moving anywhere, so he just settled against the wall in a semi-comfortable position.

When he moved, the infant squirmed. Mal froze at the feeling of her wriggling in his arms. Due to Inara wrapping her in a blanket, Mal could only see the infant's face and one of her hands. For about a minute he just stared at her, wondering what the gorram hell he was going to do with her. Serenity was not equipped for children, least of all babies. This life was a dangerous one. There was no guarantee the infant would be safe all of the time.

Mal wondered why he was thinking about this. It sounded to him like his brain was planning on keeping the tiny girl.

Daughter, Mal. She's your daughter, his brain insisted. He grunted and shook his head, trying to ignore that detail. Unfortunately, it wouldn't leave him alone. It was festering in the front of his mind, and it was giving him a headache. The infant wasn't helping much - she was still squirming, and making little whimpering sounds. Her tiny fist was resting upon his chest, and event through his sweat-drenched shirt he could feel her. Though he wasn't sure why he did it, Mal slowly lifted one hand and brushed his index finger against her hand. Instantly the little girl's hand wrapped around his finger, and Mal shuddered.

She was so tiny. She was tiny, soft, and warm, and...

What the hell am I doing?

Mal was grateful that Inara came back a few moments later. If she hadn't arrived with fresh clothes and a distraction, he would've thought himself into some kind of coma. He'd spent months ignoring the fact that the baby girl in his arms even existed. He'd spent the last several hours pushing her out of his body, and he thought he was going to go right back to ignoring her existence.

Instead...

"She's beautiful, isn't she, Mal?" Inara murmured as she set the clothes on her bed. Mal couldn't see her face, but he could hear her smiling. She'd tried to coerce him into talking about the infant before, back when she first found out about it. He imagined she felt a special kind of vindication, seeing the captain holding the tiny girl. Mal couldn't find the willingness to be disgruntled about that.

He settled for a hoarse whisper. "She is."

Inara skirted around the still-wet floor near Mal and knelt down beside him. She made a motion with her arms, gesturing as if she wanted Mal to hand the infant back. "I'm just going to put her on the bed for a moment. You'll be better off the less time you spend sitting there, I can't imagine it's very comfortable."

Mal was hesitant, and that surprised him. Still, he handed the newborn over to Inara. He watched as the baby squirmed and let out a squeaking cry as she was exchanged between the two of them, but she calmed down in Inara's arms. The Companion hushed the baby softly as she placed her down onto the bed, and as soon as the baby was settled down Inara turned back to Mal. He offered no resistance as she slipped an arm underneath his shoulder and heaved him to his feet. "Let's get you cleaned up," she said, steering him toward the bed.

The next few minutes were spent with Mal cleaning himself off and changing into a dry set of clothes, while Inara dealt with the evidence of his ordeal. All the while, Mal's attention was glued to the baby lying on the bed. Every so often she would squirm or cry, and his heart would jump in his chest. He didn't know where these nervous feelings were coming from, and he wasn't sure if he liked them or not.

After he was clean and back into fresh, non-sweaty clothes, Inara suggested they take the baby down to the infirmary and give her a quick checkup before the rest of the crew returned. At the mention of the crew, Mal felt a sickening sense of dread, but he knew that was going to happen sooner or later. Unlike before, he was not going to be able to keep the baby a secret. He was going to have to tell the crew about her... and Jayne. Jayne was going to know.

Mal wondered why he wasn't already panicking about that. He guessed he was just too tired to care. That would change.

As soon as he agreed to take the infant down to the infirmary, Inara picked her up and handed her to Mal carefully. This time he wasn't so reluctant to accept her, though it took a minute to figure out how to hold her properly. Inara seemed to find that funny, and he just rolled his eyes. He couldn't find the energy to laugh about any of this. Those thoughts of his were still leeching at his mind. They made him uncomfortable, yes, but at the same time, they made him feel... at ease? Content? He couldn't find a good word to describe it.

She was so small, so soft, so fragile.

Simply put... at first, Mal had wished the little thing inside of him didn't exist.

Now, he wasn't sure if he wanted to let her go.

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Tah-shr suo-yo dee-yure duh biao-tze duh mah - whores in hell