Part 5 - Epilogue

Retired United Republic of Independent Worlds Air Force First Lieutenant Louisa Agnes Serenity Washburne-Machado hated her name.

But not just her name, that long ass stream of words she still muddled up even after a little over three years of having the whole thing as her own. No, she hated all names and especially the ones in the heap of baby naming books she'd been receiving from Auntie Kaylee, Aunt Inara, Aunt River, Uncle Jayne (strangely enough), and even that stubborn hwoon dahn Danny Wei ever since five months ago when what she thought was a stomach flu turned out to be a ruttin' kid growin' inside her.

Sitting on the bridge as she waited for her husband to return from the latest supply run he'd gone on with Uncle Mal and the newly-turned twenty Reynolds twins (their daddy was nearing sixty and was groomin' 'em to take over Serenity so he could retire with his beautiful wife), Lou found herself yet again just glaring hotly into yet another page of gorram stupid names.

Her son would not be called Angus, Alf, Algy, or Anis, nor Grosvenor, Guernsey, or Grenville, Kiyiyah, Klah, Kong, or Koopnee, Manville, Marmaduke, or Mellon. Seemed like every book was filled up with all these useless, ridiculous names and if she didn't come across a halfway decent one soon she was gonna up and lose it. That one perfect name was out there and, gorramit, she was gonna find it.

This was important. This was her son and she was gonna do right by him no matter what.

If she got desperate, she supposed she could go try to get some help from the Tam girls, eighteen-year-old Jessie, bright and beautiful even when covered head to toe in engine grease, seventeen-year-old Angie, sweet and lovable and cute as a button, fifteen-year-old Rosie, dreamy and imaginative and wide-eyed, and thirteen-year-old Ginny, dark and speculative and destined to follow in her daddy's footsteps as a healer. Hell, the dark-eyed, unnaturally perceptive six-year-old Cobb twins, Alleyne and Jayne Jr. might even have some ideas. She made a mental note to wave them back on Haven later.

"Still at it, baby?" Mac cooed, sliding silently into the room and surprising her with a big bunch of fragrant wild flowers; they clashed horribly with his loud paisley shirt. He grinned as he held them out to her, watching her beautiful scowl split into a beautiful grin.

"Ya," Louisa answered, taking the flowers from her husband and giving them a deep whiff, smirking when she felt the kid immediately start stompin' on her kidneys. "Your boy says hi," She teased fondly.

The stocky, blonde-haired merc beamed happily, bending down to plant a big ole kiss on his wife's luscious lips as he let his hand drop to skin her gorgeously protruding stomach. "He's feisty," Mac observed, "Just like his mama."

Louie laughed as she gave him a light shove... well, what she thought was a light shove that ended up sending him sprawling theatrically backwards and into the co-pilot's chair. The woman shook her head of tight red-gold curls at his antics, hugging her midsection as she announced, "He's also a twitchy and annoying, just like his daddy."

Grinning, Mac stood up again, crossing the small space to kneel down in front of his wife. He picked up on of the old plastic dinosaurs sitting on Serenity's console, the t-rex. He made it walk carefully across her reclining stomach as he gazed up at her through long blonde eyelashes and stated, "I thought of a name you might like."

"Oh really?" Louie challenged, arching an eyebrow and just daring him to once again suggest Odin Jr. That fight had lasted weeks, ending in a final tweny-four hours of her constantly referring to the baby as Odor Jr.

"Yup," Mac reported proudly, gently pushing up Louie's shirt and giving Albert the t-rex a smooth expanse of stunning bronze skin to walk along. Mac bent down to give his wife's ticklish bellybutton a light kiss before announcing, "I think our son should be named Washburne Malcolm Machado."

Suddenly breathless, her vision blurring from hormone and adorable merc induced tears, Louisa carded her fingers through Mac's blonde curls and announced, "I love it."


Translation -

hwoon dahn - son of a bitch