A/N: This fic is inspired by "Prelude/Angry Young Man" by the fantastic Billy Joel. I can't listen to it anymore without thinking of Inara and Mal. So these characters and lyrics belong to Joss Whedon, unless I made them up, and Billy Joel. SPOILERS: There is some confirmed backstory involving Inara having a terminal illness. I am not clear as whether or not that was thrown out the window with the show's cancellation. I don't think I will include it either way, but I haven't quite made up my mind yet….
Inara had some time to kill.
Her curls were plastered to her neck. The silk of her robes was damp, and her face was warm. The room was dimly lit. There was nothing but her and the surrounding four off-white walls, white tiled floor, ceiling, and a most likely locked door. She was too weak to check.
It looked like the rooms she found herself in when she went in for her yearly check ups (minus the furniture).
In fact, that's exactly where she thought she was. A hospital, probably abandoned, most likely on Osiris, it was the closest planet with this kind of facility.
Perfect, she thought. They'd never look for her here. There's no way the Tams could risk coming home.
No. She couldn't think like that. Mal would not leave her here to die. And even if he would Kaylee wouldn't allow it. Simon might be selfish on his sister's behalf, but it was unlikely, and Kaylee and River would never stand for it.
Inara was horribly nauseous. Her head was spinning. She tried to shift her weight so, at the very least, she wouldn't vomit into her lap, but then she realized that moving only brought her flat on her back. She must have been carried in while unconscious and literally dropped on the floor. From a few feet off the ground if the forming bruises were any indication.
As if of it's own accord, her body jerked itself over to its side where she began to heave and shudder violently. Any food that she had eaten in the last however many hours was gone now, but she felt marginally better. At least after her body stopped shaking so much she was able to crawl away from the pool of sick, and the involuntary tears streaming down her face were cooling her skin.
BAM! Someone kicked the door in which, unfortunately, hit Inara in the face. Her response was somewhere between a yelp and a groan as the ache in her forehead and nose peaked.
*"Go Shi," she heard a deep voice say, "she's vomited." There was a moment of silence, before the same voice became slightly panicked.
*"Yao Nu! Where is she" A higher younger voice responded calmly,
"Relax, I hit her with the door. She'll be fine." The older man chuckled sadistically. As Inara's vision began to return to normal, she saw two white men in gray uniforms. One slight, dark hair and eyes, the other considerably more burly with a buzz cut bleach blonde hair, with a scar just above the right of his two blues eyes. Slim Jim and Scarface it was then.
Scarface bent down and scooped her up bridal style. It was uncomfortable. His right arm dug into the bones behind her knee and his left arm pressed squarely into the middle of her back causing her torso to arch upward and her head and neck to loll towards the ground. Blood rushing to her head, and simultaneously from her nose, did not help the the nausea and bruises. She was dangerously close to choking on her own vomit.
Scarface moved heavily, clunking his weight about with each step. It did not help Inara's current physical state. Slim Jim moved lightly, hardly touching the ground as he jogged beside his partner. Through her streaming eyes Inara received the uncomfortable impression that he was leering at her and taking full advantage of every inch of exposed skin. She was accustomed to this treatment, but not to this level of vulnerability, adding the emotional to her physical trauma was making her shiver violently. Slim Jim just smiled wider.
"Don't you worry sweetheart. The after effects will wear off soon. Then I get to have some fun." She glared at him, but the overall fear factor was lessened by his obvious power over her. When she sobered up, he was going to regret that he had ever met her.
Scarface let go of her legs causing Inara to nearly slip out of his grasp, but he caught her around the arm and led her into an interrogation room, much like the one she remembered last time she'd been under Alliance custody. Walls as gray as the uniforms, black tables and chairs, harsh pseudofluorescents, cold and imposing. Scarface deposited her in a chair, and all though lying down was preferable, at least she was no longer moving. She brought her arm up to stem the blood flow. Slim Jim came up beside her and handed her a handkerchief. She raised her eyebrows at him.
"Relax pretty lady. I just didn't want you to get your lovely dress bloody," he lingered on lovely. Were Alliance always this unprofessional? Most people would respect a companion, even a criminal one, at least a little more than a common whore. He did not appear to be one of those people.
*"Na Mei Guan Shee." Inara replied demurely, forcing a signature cocky smile. Slim Jim slapped her across the face. Hard. He then retreated to the other end of the table, and opened a mid-sized file, that Inara assumed featured her. She wasn't sure whether to be relieved or insulted.
"So, you travel with Malcolm Reynolds." Inara said nothing. Slim Jim nodded. He seemed to have expected at least some resistance. "You were born on Sihnon?" Inara blinked slowly, her eyelids protesting. Slim Jim smiled in what was clearly false warmth. He should know better than to try to out act a companion. "I've been there many times. It's beautiful." Inara wanted to scoff, but she did not move. Slim Jim began to frown and Scarface growled behind her. These men were clearly impatient, and had not been well trained.
Slim Jim stood and strode over to Inara, pulling her hair back, jutting her chin up towards his face. "Malcolm Reynolds and his crew are wanted for treason. This includes you. I am under orders to get information on their whereabouts and bring them into Alliance custody at whatever cost. Now, I don't have to kill you. I don't have to torture you. But I will if that's what it takes to do my job." Inara grunted with the force it took to breathe properly.
"Why not just use truth serum?" she choked out. Slim Jim loosed her hair.
"Because. I have a feeling that your crew is going to come looking for you very soon, and I want to see the look on Captain Reynolds' face when he sees the damage his pretty doll has been through." He chuckled in a way that could only be described as cruel. He strode over to to Scarface and they seemed to confer for a moment. Inara tried to listen intently, and made herself aware of her surroundings. There was one exit, and Slim Jim's back was turned. It was foolish, but Inara bolted, and Slim Jim caught her around the wrist and threw her up against the wall. He started to punch her and kick her, every once in a while he would stop and ask her a question. Where was Mal? What else did he know about the Alliance? What was he planning? etc.
Inara took the punches. She would have fought back but the punches were coming to quickly and pretty soon she was on the floor, only to be dragged up again, and repeat. She was not overly impressed. It took awhile before a rib broke. And all the while, as Slim Jim kept at her, she couldn't help but think of Mal. Slim Jim kept asking her questions as if he knew this man. As if he were just like any other criminal. Inara could have laughed. As she fought for consciousness, lyrics came back from a very old song her great-grandfather had sung every once and awhile when she was a child. Before she'd been taken as a companion.
"...he refuses to bend he refuses to crawl….and he's proud of his scars and the battles he's lost...and he likes to be known as the angry young man."
A/N: This will be at least two chapters. Please review, I'm sure any suggestions you have would really help.
*Crap/Shit
*Demon Woman
*In that case, never mind