AN: This is a somewhat AU scene placed in the beginning of Volume 4 of Cause of Death, after the whole Tasha incident and Mal is on leave. This takes place after his and Natara's initial argument, rewriting that the confrontation with his father and Esteban happened a bit later and not five minutes later.

Platonic (ish)!Maltara

Natara gripped the steering wheel with much of the same pressure she grit her teeth. Disheveled and standoffish, he glared out the passenger side window. The tension was palpable between the two of them and the two men in the backseat: his pissed off best friend and her overindulgent boyfriend, both of whom insisted on accompanying her to retrieve him from his favorite bar.

Mal had smiled at her from through the window until he noticed she had brought company with her. After that, he settled back into his usual scowl, exacerbated by his unshaven beard and obvious lack of hygiene. He had asked her curtly: "How did Diego get your number?"

She responded, "I gave it to him."

"When?"

"When he asked for it."

"He asked? And you gave it to him?" the jealous undertones in his voice agitated the anger she already had locked and loaded in his direction. "Why?"

"For situations like this," she replied curtly.

After a few minutes, Ken decided he'd had enough. "Man, what the fuck is going on with you? You don't answer your phone, you don't even shower by the look of it. Thank God for Diego or we'd have to put out an APB for fuck's sake!"

Mal threw a scathing glance over his shoulder at his best friend. "Don't you start with me. You have no idea what I'm going through."

Ken opened his mouth, but Natara beat him to it without taking her eyes off the road. "I. Do," she growled, causing the silence to resume.

"Oh yeah, with your five stages of grief bullshit?" Mal scoffed. "No thanks."

"Did you forget?" The corners of her mouth turned up as she swallowed the lump in her throat, glancing in his direction.

Crossing his arms across his chest defensively, he laughed dryly. "Forget what, Special Agent Williams?"

She took a breath, focusing on the lights against the black of the sky and the street, keeping her mind away from the hellscape her memories invited her to. "I was there, Mal." She emphasized his name, refusing to play his childish game. "I drove up there with you, I was standing there when they – when she… We almost died – I almost died trying to pull you off of that floor. You stopped. You gave up––"

"Really? Natara, if that's what you think––" he spat, leaning toward her.

"No, I don't blame you! God, how could I blame you? I know what happened. I was standing right there! But that's my point, Mal! I was standing right there. Someone had to pull you off of that floor, and it was me. But you wouldn't budge, you…. It was close. I almost died to save your life. But we got out, we got through somehow, and… Then you disappeared. You got to leave." She let a couple of the tears roll down her face, not shifting, just keeping her eyes on the road.

"Tasha died!" he yelled, and she flinched. Shawn cleared his throat, leaning forward in the seat behind Mal. He repeated, softer, amending: "She died…"

She pressed her foot onto the brake, stopping for a red light. "As far as I can tell…" She finally turned to look at him. "I'm the only one who made it out alive."

"I'm sitting right here!" He gestured over his body, dumbfounded.

She smiled. "I can never remember. I wake up from the nightmares, and I call only to get your voicemail. I go to our office to work all day alone. What does it matter if I pulled you out alive––"

Ken murmured a "mmhm" in agreement.

"––or if you love me––"

Shawn scoffed in protestation.

"––or if you can't 'bear to lose me'––"

Mal clenched his fists and growled, "No, I didn't––"

"You did!" She finally allowed herself to shout, allowed herself the catharsis. "And it's my damn turn to talk now, Mal! Everyone listened to you, everyone's been listening to you, and it's my. Damn. Turn!"

Risking a glance in his direction as she pulled through the light, she saw that finally something cracked his gruff disposition, and the empathetic eyes of her partner shone through. He fell silent, giving her room to vent, room to breathe, and the gesture caused more of her tears to fall, and as she spoke, her spasmodic breathing breaking up her speech. "I… I really can't remember. No one talks about you, they don't want to bring it up… And I can't remember if it's because you're just hurt or if you're dead… The nightmares convince me that I walked away alone, and I call because I need… I can't remember. And then you're not there."

She gave herself over to the erratic pattern of her tear-soaked breaths, and gently he reached across the cabin to lay a hand atop hers. "Nat, I…"

Her nickname. An intimacy he'd been withholding for weeks. She choked out a sob and gave him a watery smile, moving their hands to the center console and squeezing his gently in the same manner she did his bicep on a usual basis. "I know," she whispered. "Thank you."

In the rearview, she caught Ken smiling at them and nodding, just as glad they would pull through as she was.

She also caught the sight of Shawn rolling his eyes and sneering at their joined hands. Rolling her own eyes at him, she sighed at the thought of the incoming argument about "platonic intimacy," but she shut it out and tightened her grip on Mal's hand, the rough skin of his palm reminding her that he'd made it out alive after all.