Author's Note: I do not own Firefly or Serenity. I am thankful for the chance to play around with some of my favorite characters. Please do not copy or reproduce this story in any form or fashion.
This story is set post BDM.
Mal sat at the helm, his feet propped up on the console next to Wash's two favorite dinosaurs who acted as constant sentinels to their former master's station. As he leaned back in the captain's seat and stared out the skylights at the stars, Mal couldn't help but think about the funny, red-haired man, who always had some joke or quip to make the journey bright.
What was that mantra Wash always said when he got to the heat of an air assault….
"I am a leaf on the wind. Watch me soar!"
Mal could relate. His life felt like a leaf on the wind, but he wasn't quite sure how to soar at this point.
Not after Miranda.
Not after the massacre of the people who care about him and his crew and sheltered them after heists.
Not after the slaughter of Shepard Book.
Not after the tragic loss of Hoban Washburne.
Mal's eyes started to shine with the brief possibility of tears, though none dared to fall. Even though he was alone with Wash's plastic dinosaurs and the stars.
"Where Wash? Where should we soar after our leaves have been crushed to dust?" Mal whispered up to the stars.
It was always like this after Miranda. After all the horrors that she saw there, sleep just would not come. Inara sighed as she climbed from her smooth, silky sheets, snatched a silk robe from her collection of beautiful outfits, and wrapped it around herself.
Oh, she would get a few minutes of sleep here and there, but the dreams... blood soaked, terror stricken nightmares, would soon fight their way out of her subconscious and she would be wrenched from sleep, gasping and clawing for air. Night after night, day after day, Inara relived the unspeakable horrors of Miranda, the deaths of her dear friends, watching those most precious to her fight valiantly beside her for their lives in a bitterly, hopeless situation, only to survive, to live on to face the tragic memories of their deaths.
Inara glanced about her shuttle, draped in rich fabric, tastefully decorated with art and beautiful furnishings, she couldn't help but compare their bright and lovely trappings to the tattered shell of her soul and find her own self lacking.
She made her way to her own much smaller "helm" in her shuttle, the one place that she now found some solace, some tiny shred of comfort by gazing at the stars.
Of course, while she was docked with Serenity, she had no control of the ship and had no need to be at her helm, but it was the one place on in her shuttle, even on all of Serenity that she could go to see the stars without being interrupted. Well, maybe she was interrupted in her shuttle constantly by Mal barging in at random times apparently just to insult her and then leave, but since Miranda, even Mal's maddening, frustrating, and occasionally humorous antics had stopped.
Lately, Mal felt like all the reasons to laugh had been stripped bare from his life. His crew, beaten and bloody, those that had survived. His ship had been almost completely destroyed, and nothing less than a massive overhaul got her back in the skies.
Everyone stumbled about the ship as if they were half dead or something. Zoe retreated to the quarters she used to share with Wash and could only be found wandering the ship late a night. Even Jayne was not his typical "shoot first, shoot second, and maybe shoot one more time to be safe" self.
Sure, he had done the right thing, sending that wave out into the 'verse and all. Even though everyone on Miranda was dead, people had to know about the Alliance. They had to know the true about the Reavers.
Still it cost him and his, more than anyone should ever have to pay for justice. Justice. That word again. It always comes back to bite him in the ass. He joined the Independents for justice, to do what was right, to keep people free from those overbearing Alliance assholes, and what came from it... death and destruction.
Mal blew out a hard breath as the memories of Serenity Valley washed over him. They were doomed from the start, but he had never been one to back down from a fight, especially a hopeless one.
Staring at the stars, Mal remembered a simple story his grandmother told him as a little boy, how the stars were the lights of the loved ones we've lost. As a boy, he had been fascinated with the thought that each star was a person's soul, and that person loved little Malcolm Reynolds.
Of course, Mal knew his grandmother was merely trying to soften the quickly approaching blow her own death would have on the young boy, but the sentiment always stuck with him.
It was somewhat nice to think that she and all his family from Shadow were looking down on him. That Wash and Shepard Book were watching over Serenity and still a part of the crew in some small way. That 35 million people did not just go quietly into the night and lay down peaceably for their deaths by the Pax on Miranda, they still lived on in the stars. That all those that sheltered them after heists could still help shelter them in star light. That every soul he lost in Serenity Valley was burning brightly forever above him.
Mal.
The more Inara gazed at the stars, the more her mind drifted to him. She bet even now he was sitting up at Serenity's helm himself, plotting a course to some new backwater planet for his next job. Not a decent, respectable planet... no... but even though she hadn't worked since Mal had swept her away after being taken hostage by the Agent, she couldn't complain.
Inara knew that he was simply trying to keep flying to find work. After the Miranda wave, the opportunities for the crew had dried up, forcing Mal to take the jobs that no one wanted. Risky jobs that were guaranteed to be filled with bullets and blood, or low paying ones that were barely worth the cost of moving the ship.
The sparkle in the stars reminded Inara of the sparkle in Mal's eyes just before he got into trouble. The carefree and debonair way that normally surrounded Mal's very soul, was now lackluster and dull. She no longer felt the tension in Mal's gaze as he looked her over when ever she walked into a room or he thought she was not looking.
Their witty back and forth no longer echoed through the hull of Serenity and she sorely missed the laughter they shared. True, Mal all too often worked in some insult about her work, but she could give as good as she got. Both figuratively and literally!
Maybe it was time. She could take the first steps and help bring the ship back into order. Kaylee and Simon were lost in themselves in an effort forget the horrors of Miranda, not to mention to make up for all the time they lost dancing around one another. Jayne and River had bonded in their own mysterious way and could often be found together cleaning various weapons. Zoe was a ghost to the rest of the ship, but seemed to be doing a tiny bit better as time went on.
And Mal…
It was time. Time to tell him how she felt. Time to give in to her feelings and accept his in return.
And with that thought, she stepped out of the door of her shuttle and made her way to the helm.
