"I'm sorry, Carl," she said softly, glancing away from the cortex screen.
He didn't appear surprised. "I never did think you'd say yes," he admitted, "but I had to try."
Inara resisted the desire to pick at the edge of her sleeve. Marriage proposals were, in general, rather embarrassing.
"Just… will you tell me why?" he asked, resigned.
She tilted her head back, allowing her eyes to wander around the shuttle she'd called home for so many months. "I belong here," she said simply after a long pause, "In the black. On this ship."
"I could buy you a ship." His eyes pleaded.
She shook her head gently, empathizing. "No, Carl."
"You've always been honest with me, Inara," he said.
She waited for the catch.
"But you're not right now. I just want to know why. You don't find me attractive enough…? Is it the money…?" He trailed off.
"No, no," she replied emphatically. He was right; she'd known him for too long to lie to him now. She sighed, rubbing her temples. "I'm… in love with someone else," she admitted. For a moment she paused, marveled at how it felt to finally admit it aloud. "And… it wouldn't be fair to either of us if I were to pretend."
"Ah," he said, leaning back, "I should have known, with you travelling to so many new worlds. Knew you'd find someone special."
She smiled pleasantly, hoping to drive the conversation to a close.
"He is wealthy?" Carl asked politely enough.
She couldn't hide her amusement. "No, no, uh, no. Not in the least." The image of a wealthy Mal required more imagination than she possessed.
He blinked, surprised by both the negative response and her reaction. "But, he is able to care for you?"
"He can barely care for himself," her smile faded slightly.
"But he's attractive, yes?"
She pursed her lips, "By whose definition?"
"Why, yours, dear lady."
"Pleasingly enough."
"And kind, I'm sure."
"Sometimes."
Carl paused, taken aback by her description. "Intelligent, then."
She tilted her head to the side as if weighing over the matter in her mind. "When he chooses to use it."
He stared at her through the cortex screen. She became aware, suddenly, of how bleak and unfavorable Mal must seem to a man like Carl. While she was scrambling for a proper response to move the conversation back on track, he spoke again.
"Well, dear lady, I must not rank very high in your esteem, if such a man has defeated my best attempts."
Her heart sank. This wasn't going well at all. "He has… different qualities than those you named." How to describe a man like Mal.
"I see." He appeared unconvinced.
"He isn't always kind, but he is usually very… good. He may not do the legal thing, but he almost always chooses what he thinks is… morally correct. He's… incredibly aggravating."
Carl said nothing. She fought back a blush as she realized the absurdity of her defending Mal to this man, a competitor, so to speak. And she wasn't doing a very good job of it at all, anyway.
"It's complicated," she managed.
"But he loves you," he said, almost as if pitied her and was trying to give her something to catch onto.
"I…" Could he love her? She was a companion, skilled in reading nuance. He was attracted to her, certainly. Some days it was rather vindicating to see. But love? "I don't know."
An awkward silence dragged on. They exchanged hasty pleasantries and she switched off the wave, perturbed by the sympathy and relief in his eyes as they concluded. Carl had probably realized that he was a fortunate man to have received her refusal. Something was certainly wrong with her.
Her shuttle was very silent in the absence of the wave. It lay heavy upon her ears. She swore viciously as an idea rose unbidden to her mind.
"If you're eavesdropping on me right now, Mal… I swear I will kill you."
Silence reigned. She sighed in relief.
Outside the door, Mal scarcely dared to breathe. Stupid, stupid, he cursed himself. He'd never meant to eavesdrop on her. This time, that was. He'd heard her shuttle dock and had come to check on her.
What he had intended to "check," he wasn't quite sure. But it was a good enough excuse for his own mind at the time. He could admit privately that it was not a particularly gentlemanly thing to have done, to have listened, but he'd wanted to see her.
So that was what she thought of him. He couldn't decide if he was pleased or not.
Attractive "enough". Define "enough".
"Aggravating." That one probably wasn't a compliment.
Neither were the aspersions she'd cast on his intelligence or his kindness. But she'd called him "good."
That was probably far more than he deserved.
And she had said she loved him. He'd carefully pushed that thought to the back of his mind, had focused on hearing the rest of their conversation. He'd known it before, more or less. They'd danced around the topic, always pushing, pulling, daring the other to make or break their quasi-relationship. He'd had the idea that she at least held affection for him.
But it was another thing entirely to hear the words spoken aloud, no qualms or qualifying stipulations.
Loved him. Stupid, selfish, broken man who still lived partly in a long gone war. A fight that she'd been on the other side of. She was a Companion, knew the difference between love and lust, real and imagined.
And she didn't know if he loved her back.
Of course he did.
The thoughts and emotions piled atop each other and flashed through his mind in moments, an impossible mess to untangle, difficult to even put images to, much less words.
Back in the room, Inara's vicious threat and succeeding breath of relief were barely seconds old. She had stood up absently, untwisting her hair from its updo, when she heard a tiny scuffing noise.
In the hall, Mal froze as his shoe scraped a ridge in the metal flooring. He glanced at the floor, glanced up, and she was there. She looked at him for no more than a second, betrayal and shock etched in her expression. Her dark eyes stared into his, stunned. Stepping back, she closed the door firmly and he heard the lock latch.
Mal found himself surprisingly… embarrassed. Remorseful. He never should have—this was an egregious breach of her privacy. He vividly recalled the hurt in her eyes. Squaring his shoulders, he knocked, intending to apologize profusely. It was a rare intention and he felt strangely satisfied with his decision.
She refused to open the door.
Inara, after locking her door, sank back against it. You little idiot, she berated herself, you idiot. He pounded on it again and called her name, waiting for several more minutes before giving up.
She rose to her feet, scanning her room for something made of glass. She wanted to throw something, and more than that, she wanted to hear it shatter.
As dinnertime approached, Inara debated staying in her room. She alternatively considered arranging her hair, reapplying her makeup, and donning a more elegant dress than the one she currently wore.
She refused to indulge herself in any of those areas. Drawing herself up, she walked briskly and calmly to the table.
Inara didn't know it, but in her haughty calm, she drew all eyes. Any other night, her easy smiles and pleasant conversation made her one of the crew, made it seem as if she belonged amongst their number. Tonight, instead of putting the others at ease, she made no effort to join; she distanced herself. And the crew remembered, were surprised to remember, who she was and who they were. She was a lady, respectable. They were rim-world rabble.
Jayne couldn't take his gaze off her, chewing open-mouthed. Mal, across the table, refused to look at her at all. River's eyes flitted back and forth between the two of them. And Kaylee realize—not for the first time—how much Inara had breathed life into their mealtimes.
Finally, Zoe had had enough. Where the others were intimidated by Inara's fine, cold manner, she could read the hurt in her every movement. Zoe glared at Mal, who had yet to look up from his food. "Malcolm Reynolds," she said, threateningly, "What did you do?"
"Excuse me?"
She was in no mood for games, "What did you do?" she demanded.
"What makes you think," he said, swallowing a bite of the mushy protein that served as their food substitute, "that I did anythin'?"
"Mal!"
"Nothing!" interjected Inara, her voice strange and loud. "Nothing," she repeated in a more modulated voice.
Zoe shot her a look.
"Please," Inara asked her, "just…" she shook her head.
"You're okay?"
"I'll be fine."
"Why do you automatically assume it's my fault?" snapped Mal almost petulantly. He found himself embarrassed still, an emotion he did not enjoy and was unaccustomed to.
Zoe snorted, "You're a captain of an independent scavenger ship because no one else in the 'verse could deal with you on a regular basis, much less bear being answerable to your commands."
"But if you're considering changing careers," Inara, unable to resist, anger bleeding through her superficially honeyed voice, "you'd be a wonderful spy."
Mal met her eyes for the first time that evening, his expression unreadable, "Why? Because I'm good at ferreting out secrets?"
"Because you're shameless," she spat.
His grin was tight and angry, "Oh, you're one to talk… Registered Companion." He drew out the last word, fitting all the contempt he could muster into each syllable.
"And you're just above such… degradation," she responded coolly, eyes flashing.
"Well darlin'," he drawled. "I ain't the one selling myself to the highest bidder."
Simon stood up with his plate of food and discreetly tried to usher River from the room. She refused to move, but instead clutched the side of the table and watched the exchange with wide eyes. Simon got Kaylee's attention and the two of them fled.
"The only reason," she said flatly, "The business exists is because it's profitable. Because men will pay. And then they have the audacity to call the woman a whore."
"The whole thing is contemptible."
"Because Captain Reynolds would never," she drew out the words slowly, "sleep with a whore."
His whole face flushed as he grasped her meaning. "Nandi? You—that's not—" He stood up, furious.
"The same thing?" she mocked, sitting primly.
"It's not! She didn't—I didn't pay—"
"Trade. She considered it trade for you saving her girls."
"No! We were drinking, she—Wait," a smirk curled up his face, "This is you gettin' mad at me for sleepin' with your friend."
Zoe stood and gripped River's wrist firmly, leading her from the room and gesturing meaningfully for Jayne to do the same. He grudgingly complied.
Inara rose up as well. "You—This is about your hypocrisy! Your arrogance! Your—"
"Well now," he put his hands flat on the table and leaned forward on them, "Maybe I just have some… Different qualities than those you named."
She didn't fail to recognize her own words, confessed to Carl just hours before. Too angry to speak, she stared at him, at his smirking face, at his surety that the metaphorical tables had just been turned in his favor. Her heart pounded furiously, her blood rushing through her ears. She slapped him as hard as she could, open handed, across his face.
Astounded, he made no move to stop her.
Zoe heard the slap just as she reached the opening to the hallway. She turned.
Mal and Inara stared at each other across the table, equally shocked. After a moment, Inara turned away and walked unhurriedly back to her shuttle, hand stinging.
TBC