bigdamnprincipal | 16 Unicorn Street, Late Friday Afternoon

By the time Zoe and Mal made it through the crowd in the park and got to Zoe and John's house, Grace was definitely ready for her nap, and was crying enough to let everyone nearby know.

"It should only take me a few minutes to get her down," she promised Mal, and before he could say anything, she was heading upstairs with Grace.

	Mal was having a bit of trouble at the moment, processing all the different things Zoe had left out of her letters over the past few months. Sure, she'd talked about Grace, and that she was going to be living with John, but she'd failed to mention the house. A damn house, with a fence, and a yard, and strange-shaped things in the kitchen, and furniture that didn't even look like it got used all that often. It was wrong, is what it was. Houses tied people down, kept them in place if trouble came, and that wasn't the sort of thing Mal wanted to think about where Zoe was concerned. With Zoe upstairs - leaving Mal in the gorram living room - he was left to try to figure out what the hell Zoe had gotten herself into. At the moment, he was looking at the assorted pictures in the room, trying to figure out who the two little boys were.
	Office hours finished, John came home, looking forward to spending some time with Zoe and their daughter before Bobby arrived and the whole drama of Parents Weekend got into full swing. Because you never knew what that was going to bring. Hearing someone moving around in the living room, he headed that way. "Zoe, I was thinking that we could -" He stopped dead when the person who was most definitely not Zoe turned around.
	Mal's attention was pulled away from the photographs when the other man spoke. He figured that this was probably John, since he'd let himself in and all, and Mal couldn't resist starting to size him up almost immediately. "Zoe's upstairs," he said.
	John nodded, giving the stranger the once over. "And you would be..." he asked.
	"Captain Malcolm Reynolds," he said. It seemed like an appropriate time to sound important. "I'm a friend of Zoe's."
	"John Winchester," John said, crossing his arms over his chest. "So you're the infamous Malcolm Reynolds."
	So this was Zoe's man. He wasn't what Mal had been expecting, that was certain. "I don't get called infamous much, least not to my face. Zoe must be telling you real good stories."
	"A few. From what I can figure, seems trouble follows you around."
	"Yeah, it has a bit of a nasty habit about that," Mal admitted. "I reckon it's better than starting the trouble myself though."
	"Marginally," John observed.
	"Bit more than marginally," Mal replied. "But you're a teacher up at the school now, right?"
	"That's the day job, yeah. Just like Zoe's the principal."
	Mal didn't really need reminding about what Zoe's job was, or the fact that she had a job that didn't involve working with him anymore. "You got a night job too?" he asked. "To help pay for this fine lookin' house of yours?"
	"More of a calling, less of a job," John said, tilting his head to the side consideringly as he spoke. "I'm a demon hunter. And the pay's crap. At least monetarily. " He smiled faintly. "But Zoe's and my school salaries together are enough."
	"Demon hunter? That some kind of fancy term for preacher?" Mal was definitely going to have to have a long talk with Zoe about what kinds of information were necessary for him to know in the future.
	John chuckled. "Hardly. It's some kind of fancy term for someone who hunts demons."
	"There ain't no such thing as demons, unless we're talkin' about the personal kind." Or Reavers, but Mal was pretty sure that wasn't what John meant.
	"And you know everything to be so certain of that, do you?"
	"I know enough to know when someone's trying to pull my leg."
	"Apparently you don't."
	"Fine. Let's say you are some kind of demon hunter. You still doin' that now, with the new baby and all?" It didn't sound particularly safe, for Grace or for Zoe.
	"Demons don't go away just because I have a new daughter," John said.
	Oh, Mal did not like this at all. "I see. You ever bring your work home with you?"
	"I do everything in my power to make sure that there's no way anything evil will ever be able to even cross the threshold of this house." John gave a ghost of a smile. "The only way it could be any safer was if it was built on consecrated ground and I've a friend I'm considering inviting for a visit to see if we can do something about that."
	"This friend of yours another demon hunter?" Mal asked. "I'm just tryin' to imagine Zoe around all these types of people." Because he'd never gotten her near unsavory types before, of course.
	"He's a pastor," John said. "True man of God if I ever met one. And yeah, he hunts. You would too if you'd seen what we had. Or so I guess, considering what Zoe's told me about you."
	"And what has Zoe told you about me, just out of curiosity? Because it seems she missed a few things about you," Mal said.
	"That you fought in the war together, that you're a smuggler, a thief and a fool, often at the same time."
	There was a small pause. "I reckon I can't deny any of that," he said. "She could have mentioned how I make smuggling and thievery look so damn good though."
	"She may have been too busy elaborating on the fool part."
	"That's undoubtedly a description from Zoe," Mal said with a fond smile.
	John returned the smile. "She also said you look after your own and you try and do the right thing, even when you think you're a fool to."
	"She told you all that?" Mal asked. "You must have caught her in a good mood."
	"Getting her in a good mood?" John grinned rather wolfishly. "Hasn't really been a problem."
	"I don't know if I want to know the deeper implications of that statement," Mal said. "But there was a time not too long ago that tryin' to get Zoe into a good mood wasn't worth the effort or the bruises. But I reckon you understand that, from what she told me about you."
	"Zoe's always worth the effort," John said. "And the bruises."
	"You ain't just saying that out of self-preservation, are you?"
	John chuckled. "Saying something for self-preservation isn't something I'm often accused of. Generally the opposite."
	"Good. Because I would hate to find out you're takin' advantage of Zoe in some way," Mal said. "That would lead to a conversation that would be far more painful for you than it would be for me."
	"You have met Zoe, right?" John asked. "That's one woman no one's going to take advantage of."
	"Doesn't mean men haven't tried. I don't suppose you'd still be breathing well if you had, but I still had to check."
	"I'm sure Zoe appreciates it," John said dryly. He paused and then added, "She's not going back."
	"She certainly seems to have her fair share of reasons to stay," Mal replied. That didn't mean she had to, though.
	"This place does that to you."
	"So does Serenity. Turned out to be more of a home than I ever expected."
	"We all find the places where we're meant to be," John said. "Or so a friend of mine keeps insisting."
	Mal gave John serious consideration for the moment. "I reckon you think Zoe's meant to be here?"
	"Yeah I do. Our relationship and Grace aside, this place needs her. The kids here need her."
	He had to go and bring kids into the conversation, didn't he. "She seems happy," he admitted, however reluctantly it may have been.
	"She is," John confirmed. "We both are. Much, I expect, to both our surprise."