The Real Mrs. Reynolds

Summary: Saffron didn't know when to leave well enough alone

Published: August 2007

Disclaimer: BtVS and Firefly/Serenity belongs to Joss Whedon

Ratings: Adult

Pairings: Buffy/Mal

Author's Note: Totally AU story. Shindig hasn't happened. Takes place after Jaynestown. The rest is a surprise, which I hope you'll like.

Special Note: Thanks as always to my beta Amanda and to a new beta that has joined the team of the overworked Skyla.

Story Art

Serenity's crew sat around the table chatting as they ate their evening meal, happy that the last two jobs had ended with them still intact. Between Mal's non-wife and Jayne's Robin Hood act, they were plum worn out and looked forward to an ordinary job, where they just had to stay alive. It sounded like a vacation. Kaylee asked Inara about her clients, while the others pretended not to listen.

Everyone, except River, who stared at Mal, seeming to dissect him, until he finally turned to her and said, "You got something on your mind, little girl? Best ways to get an answer is to start conversating."

She drew air through her nose, scenting him, then cocked her head to the side as she settled those large, fathomless eyes on him. "How come you didn't sleep with that woman? She wanted you; I could smell it on her, even Jayne could smell it."

The room went silent as everyone turned to watch Mal's face turn an interesting red. He shoved away from the table, before stomping from the room, calling back over his shoulder in a gruff, no-nonsense tone. "Zoë, I'll be on the Bridge."

Zoë exchanged glances with her husband. She turned to River, but spoke to the room at large. "Best never speak to Mal 'bout his personal business. It's just that, personal. He keeps it close to the vest and gets a might tetchy when folks go nosing round where they don't belong, might get him mad. You don't want to see Mal when he's really mad." She leaned over to kiss Wash soundly on the lips, shoved away from the table, then followed after her Captain.

The remaining crew members were left with a mystery. Little did they know that they were about to learn about it, in all its vivid, Technicolor glory.

Serenity touched down on Persephone. Mal stood ready to hand out orders and money alike. Before he could open his mouth, a loud clang echoed throughout the empty Cargo Bay. His gun leapt into his hand as he motioned for the others to take cover.

Bright sunlight hit them, blinding their eyes as the doors opened from the outside. Kaylee panicked, already running for the panel to try to override it. A large shadow loomed forward, casting its hulk back into the hold. It was oddly shaped with a massive upper body and appeared to have two heads.

Kaylee and Inara screamed, Zoë cocked her Carbine, Jayne rubbed Vera, Shepherd murmured several phrases from the good book, while Simon hid River. Mal wasn't sure how to react to the surrounding mayhem. A familiar feeling came over him, one that he couldn't shake. His first clue came when the 'monster' shot his gun from his hand. The second was the loud, angry shout of his full name - Malcolm Finnilius Reynolds.

Finnilius, no one, excepting his Ma ever spoke that name. Well, one other person knew it, but she wouldn't have no call to come here blaring it out at the top of her lungs. A bad feeling came over him, one that told him that things were bout to get ugly fast. He closed his eyes, opening them slowly, allowing them to adjust to the lighting. Staring intently at the 'monster' that stood in the open doorway, every curse word he knew came to mind, although he knew better than to utter a single word.

Everyone stopped, turning to stare at Mal; even Zoë mouthed 'Finnilius' in disbelief. He glared at them balefully, daring them to say a word. They watched as he hesitantly stepped toward the monster. The crew stared in anticipation to see who could possibly have the Captain looking like ready to run for cover. Eyes widened in awe when a petite woman stepped forward, they grew even wider when they noticed that she wasn't alone.

The woman had a rope wrapped tightly around her hand, which she tugged as she walked further into the Cargo Bay. There at the rope's end, tied like a Christmas Turkey, was none other than Saffron. Ropes wrapped around her body from shoulder to mid-thigh, forcing her to hop to keep up with her captor. A scarf kept Saffron from speaking, although if looks could kill, the woman would no doubt be dead. The crew wasn't sure whether to laugh at their foolishness or sigh that the troublesome woman had returned, albeit incapacitated. They couldn't help but wonder about the woman that brought the former Mrs. Reynolds back into the fold.

It was obvious that she knew Mal. The simple fact that she called him by a middle name that no one here knew, not even Zoë, proved that. They would have to be blind to think that Mal didn't know her; the way he couldn't take his eyes off her told them that he knew her; he knew her real well.

Emerald green eyes wandered up his body, starting at his feet until they reached his handsome face. They took in each new scar, bruise and shadow. Almost forgetting her hostage, she peered into the bluest eyes she had ever seen. Those eyes had caught her from the very beginning, damn him. She glared at him, not willing to allow her feeling to get in the way. Pulling Saffron forward, she shoved the woman's trussed up body at her husband. A wicked smile graced her lips as she watched him stumble under the unexpected weight.

"Are you trying to start a harem, dear?" she asked in a silky smooth whisper. "I overheard Mrs. Reynolds here asking if it was safe for her to relocate on Persephone. Seems her husband died recently. You didn't die on me, did you Mal? You promised." Her lips fell into a pretty pout that shouldn't fit with the circumstances, but there wasn't a man in the room that found it out of place, the man she aimed it at included.

He hated and loved that pout. It had caused him more trouble than an entire valley of Alliance troops, and more pleasure than he ever thought possible. Saffron's body landed on floor with a loud 'thud' as Mal shoved it away to slowly walk toward her. He watched her eyes, wary that she wasn't through with Saffron or him, yet.

When he was within an arms length, she stepped back, putting distance between them. Their audience drew in a collective breath. Zoë and Wash started pushing them up the stairwell and out of harm's way. A loud moan sounded from Mrs. Reynolds number 2, which had the crew freezing in places. It was almost comical to watch, eight adults standing perfectly still for fear that they could somehow topple an already unstable situation.

Then, it happened. As it normally does in situations similar to this, a simple action caused the chain of events to start their downward spiral. Green eyes narrowed as they watched the man they loved walk back over to red headed hussy, helping her into a sitting position. He removed the gag from her mouth and ordered someone to bring him water.

The temperature around the woman went up several degrees, along with her anger, as she silently stared at Mal ministering to Saffron. When Mal went to loosen the ropes binding the con woman's body, she couldn't, wouldn't, take anymore. Her gun appeared in her hand, and the shot rang out before anyone knew what was happening. The crew kept blinking their eyes, as if they weren't sure that they had seen what had happened, before their very eyes. Wash held Zoë back from interfering, nodding for Jayne to restrain Inara.

Mal turned around, coming to his feet in one smooth motion. "Buffy Andromeda Summers Reynolds, what in the blue blazes of hell are you shooting at me for?" His intense eyes no longer held a wary note, they met hers with equal passion and anger.

"Don't call me that," she answered angrily. "You know I don't like that name. Just cause my mama named me after some crazy show from Earth That Was, don't mean that I have to like it. You know that I won't answer to that name."

Jayne scratched his head, peering over Inara's head to catch Wash's eye. "Didn't know that she didn't like him calling her Buffy. That's alls I ever heard him call her, ceptin when he was calling her names for to get some more bed time, or after they just had some bed time, which with them was pert near bout all the time when they're together. It's a might strange, but it suits her. She never minded it when I called her that; how come she don't like it now?"

"Not that name, you idiot, her middle name. Seems neither one takes kindly to having it shouted about. Now, shut up, it looks like it's about to get good. Oomph." Zoë elbowed him in the side. "I mean, they might hear you and get upset." He turned bright, blue eyes back to his wife, giving her his best smile. She couldn't stop the smile that immediately came to her lips when he looked at her like that. Truth was, Zoë hoped that the lovers hurried up with their lovers' spat. She wanted to spend some down time with her own husband. The problem lay with Buffy's volatile temper and whether she would believe Mal with regards to Saffron.

Saffron licked her bruised and swollen lips, tasting blood. Her eyes searched frantically for an escape route, seeing Mal about to face off with her attacker. She couldn't hear everything that they were saying, but she felt confident that she would find a way out of this mess.

She pulled out every trick she knew, allowing large tears to form in her eyes. She called out in a wobbly voice, "Mal, thank the stars it's you. Please help me, this woman, she's crazy! Look what she did to me. Said she's married to you when we both know that ain't true. Tell her Mal, please tell her. Make her go away and leave me alone. I'll even cook for you again, anything you want. Please, protect me."

Mal had started to explain to Buffy what had happened with Saffron when she interrupted. He watched those green eyes freeze into hard, icy chips. The odds of him having a nice time on Persephone with his wife were quickly dwindling to nothing. Her face closed off, hiding her emotions from him. If he didn't do something fast, the damage would be done, and he'd play merry hell fixing it. Mal hesitated one second too long.

Buffy swept past him. Those small, powerful hands grabbed the con woman before she could say another word. Saffron found herself flat on her back, dragged across the floor by one irate wife. The cargo winch slipped around her waist and with a single button push, she went flying into the air. She kicked as best she could, until she realized that the more she moved the higher she went. The winch came to a screeching halt, jerking her head back so hard it was a wonder it didn't pop clean off.

"Tell me what happened between you and Mal?" Buffy stood feet planted firmly apart with her hands on her hips.

"We fell in love at first sight and married within the hour."

She soared toward the ground at an alarming speed, stopping bare inches from the ground. The woman stepped forward, caressing Saffron's cheek, before jerking her head back by the hair. Shepherd and Simon started to object; Zoë cautioned them not to interfere. Jayne smiled, enjoying the show. River slipped from Simon's side to draw closer to the intriguing woman.

"Now, here's how we play this game. You answer my questions and I don't drop your body at a high rate of speed onto the nice, hard deck, shattering you pretty face. Do we understand each other?"

"It won't shatter her face," River said. She stood beside the woman, having silently crept forward while the two women were speaking.

Buffy turned to River, taking in the large, intelligent eyes. "It's not polite or safe to sneak up on people. Especially, me. I tend to ask questions later, if you understand me."

River gave her a special River smile. "I understand you quite well. My IQ rating is well above genius level, but that isn't what you're referring to. You wouldn't hurt me though." A delicate eyebrow rose at the self-assured tone. "I'm on Mal's ship, and that would make him unhappy. You don't like it when he's unhappy, so you wouldn't hurt me." She shrugged, glanced back up at the winch, and said, "In order to actually shatter her face, you need to tie her upside down. The way that she's suspended, her lower extremities will take the greatest impact, which won't leave enough maximum force needed to shatter the number of bones found in a human face. So, if you want to shatter her pretty face, just turn her upside down." Performing a perfect pirouette in her army boots, River drifted away from the astounded woman.

"Is she always like that?" She looked to Mal for an answer.

"Bout near as I can tell." He gave her a tentative smile. "Darlin', could we possibly conversate 'bout this." His finger pointed toward Saffron, who hung precariously between them.

Those piercing eyes narrowed, causing the brave Captain to wince. "Don't you darlin' me." She punched the button, shooting Saffron into the air minus the hair she still held. "You hush," she yelled at the woman. "You," she stalked toward the man in the brown coat and suspenders, "start talking."

He watched her stalk toward him and he couldn't help but admire the view. Well-worn pants fit trim, muscular legs; gun belts wrapped lovingly around slimly curved hips that led to the tiniest waist he'd ever seen. She still wore the deep, green shirt he favored that brought out her eyes. It fit her slim torso. Worn open at the throat, showing the delicate throat and a hint of cleavage. Her face still made his heart skip whenever he saw it, no matter how long he had known her. The darndest part was she didn't understand her effect on him, or others for the most part. It formed a perfect oval with large green eyes, pouty pink lips, and a pert nose that she hated, all framed with long, chestnut hair that caught the sun.

"Well?" Her arms crossed over her chest.

"I didn't do nothing. She sneaked aboard Serenity, told everyone that I'd married her," he started to explain.

"I got a rain stick," Jayne supplied from his perch on the catwalk. "She gave Mal flowers, some wine, then they danced. Lickety-split, everyone says they was married. Think I got the better deal after it was all said and done.

Mal turned to glare at the mercenary who gave him a 'what I do look.' "Jayne, stop helping me. I told her and them." He hooked a finger at the crew behind him. "That I didn't marry her. She played innocent, then rigged my ship so's some scrappers could steal her, put my crew and boat in peril, not very wifely, if'n you ask me. Now, you show up here with her in tow, wanting to know what's going on, plus you yell, mind you, woman, yell out my middle name," he said, starting out in a normal tone that steadily rose with his anger until he was screaming the last part.

"Don't you yell at me, Malcolm Reynolds. How do you think I felt when I heard her say that she was your wife? Not only that, but that you were dead. Dead." She started pacing in the space between them. "I told you that this would never work. Oh, no, you wouldn't believe me. Buffy and love are unmixey things. But, you," she screamed at him, stopping her pacing to glare at him. "You swore two things to me. You wouldn't cheat and you wouldn't die." She spun on her heel, walking away from him.

Mal saw red. She couldn't leave. They said words that meant forever. His feet moved before he realized it. She hadn't taken more than a few steps when he wrapped his arms around her waist, hauling her off her feet.

"You aren't leaving me. There's only one Mrs. Malcolm Reynolds and I'm holding her. Thought we were meeting up tonight. Don't matter now that you're here."

He twisted her around in his arms, capturing her lips with his own. She wrapped her legs around his hips and her arms around his neck. This was what she wanted, ever since she had heard that woman speak Mal's name and dead in the same sentence. She needed to touch him, know that he still lived, that he was still hers. Nothing else mattered, but this, but them. Mal ignored everyone, except the woman in his arms as he moved toward the stairs. His arm waved behind him at Zoë, knowing his second-in-command would handle matters. He had a wife that needed tending.

Buffy pulled away to call over her shoulder. "Zo, I'll finish with her after I see to my man." She dug her fingers into his thick hair, before he could protest her lips found his.

Jayne watched Mal leave with the little spitfire. He turned to Zoë with a grin, seeing the questions on the others faces. "Think I'll go see about finding me a woman." He left the catwalk quickly, knowing that he didn't want to be the one to go telling Mal's business. He remembered the last time he spoke out of turn about the real Mrs. Reynolds. It still gave him nightmares.

Zoë turned to Wash, wondering how to handle the situation. Her loveable husband gave her a sweet smile, kissed her cheek and waited for her to start talking. She sighed, knowing that she had to tell them something. "They've been married about two years now and see each other as much as they can without killing each other. That's about all you need to know. She knows what he does and protects him as much as she can. Believe we have supplies to purchase and a town to see." The second-in-command walked from the galley as quickly as her long legs would take her.

Saffron watched them mill about, forgetting her as she hung above them helpless. She remembered arriving at the hotel in Persephone, thinking that the town was ripe for plucking. She had dressed for her morning stroll, careful to give the right impression to each person she passed. When she saw the tea shop, she knew it was the perfect place to start making contacts.

She chose a table beside the front window and chatted up an elderly woman for information on the town's safety. Playing her trump card, or so she thought, she explained that she was the recent widow of one Malcolm Reynolds. That was when her world went to hell in a hand basket. A harridan came from the back, obviously the old woman's friend, screeching at the top of her lungs about Mal.

Saffron was no easy pushover, and tried to bluff her way through the situation. The smaller woman wasn't having it; before she knew what was going on, she found herself flat on her back and hog tied. Now, she was thirty foot in the air with no clear way of getting free. Sometimes it just didn't pay to get out of bed. Her only hope was that Mal would talk his wife around after they got reacquainted; after all no one got hurt.

The lovers lay wrapped around each other, making it hard to tell where one began and the other ended. They held onto each other, knowing that their time together wouldn't last. Luck, fate, love, whatever it called itself had thrown them into each other's path and neither wanted to do without the other in their life. Their problem came in that they loved and lived too hard. Neither could give an inch in the way they led their lives. They feared that changing for the other person would change the love they felt for them as well. So, they did that rare and seemingly impossible act for one another; they simply accepted each other as they were, living and loving as they could for as long as they could, then parted until the next time.

Buffy drew lazy patterns on his bare chest as they talked. The post-coital bliss had smoothed away the anger, leaving them with the need to share every detail of their time apart. Mal's fingers combed through her long hair, memorizing its texture and length.

"They wrote a whole song about Jayne?" A giggle escaped her lips at the idea of the mercenary as a town hero. "And he had a statue and everything." Mal shifted, pulling her up his body where he could see her face. A smile played at the corner of his lips as he watched her laugh at the story's retelling. The smile grew larger, taking up his entire face as she hiccupped with laughter. "And, he thought a homemade hat would keep him from getting recognized?"

"Shoulda wore a mask turned out all right though. How long you staying in Persephone?" The question sounded innocent as he asked it, but she knew he wanted to know how much time he had with her.

She threw a well-toned leg over his body, sliding further up it, wiggling around, as if she were a cat settling in for a nice nap. Her naughty smile and the desire that flared so easily to life whenever this man was in sight put that illusion to rest. She leaned forward, placing her hands across his chest as she bent forward at the waist. "Don't have anywhere to go in an all fired hurry for a bit. Thought I'd play it on the down low for a spell. Need to send one wave, then I'm yours till you have to leave." Buffy felt his body respond to her words. Her smile went from naughty to evil as her hips rocked back and down to capture the fruit of her labors. "You're mine now, Mr. Reynolds, I plan to have my way with you and no one will save you."

Mal shivered as her husky words and actions took him to the edge of euphoria. He didn't know what he had done to deserve her, but he damn sure wasn't going to waste what time he had. "That suits me fine, Mrs. Reynolds, suits me just fine."

Post Note: Buffy is the many times over granddaughter of the original Buffy. The TV show she's named after isn't BtVS, its Andromeda. It's only hinted that she works in a more legal profession than Mal, which is part of what separates them. I chose to leave certain parts to your ripe imaginations. Just fill in the backgrounds and meetings you want for this dynamic pair, who knows in the future I may pick this little tid bit back up and let it grow into a real story.

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The Real Mrs. Reynolds