Summary: He was perfect. Everyone said that about their children, she knew, and she knew why. And like every mother before her, she believed that she was right.
Disclaimer: I own Firefly as much as I own Veronica Mars and Lost. Which is not at all.
Author's Note: I wrote Firefly again. :) And it was fun.
He was perfect. Everyone said that about their children, she knew, and she knew why. And like every mother before her, she believed that she was right. The child she held in her arms was perfect, angelic, beautiful. And his most striking feature, the thing that she loved the most about him was also the thing that cut into her the deepest: his bright red hair.
They sat together, in Wash’s old chair, and she watched her son chew on the end of the tail of one of his father's dinosaurs. She held the other one, loosely, in her hand, and looked out the window. The child in her lap giggled and bounced happily and looked up at her. She smiled down at him, though her smile was small and sad, and turned them both so that they were facing the window, so that they were looking outside.
“We will rule over all this land,” she told him, and he reached out and held the tiny arm of the dinosaur in the palm of his hand. “And we shall call it, ‘this land’.”