Disclaimer: I do not profit from this fan fiction (well, it's maybe part of my community service) so please don't sue me Mr. Wright… Or Mr. Anderson…Or Mr. Whedon...
All italicised foreign phrases words are Cantonese swear words, except shi shi which means thankyou.
THE HORSE'S MOUTH
Inara Serra had never seen any place quite so filthy in her entire life, (even the portion of it she spent with Malcolm Reynolds) let alone set foot in it. But since she was stuck here, waiting for Mal and Zoë to conclude whatever business they had with Badger (and it was probably better that she didn't know what it was) it would be better to sit inside and wonder about the place's hygiene than to stand out on the street and wait for the Alliance to pick her up. Besides, the one thing their recent battle had taught her was that she was far tougher than she ever gave herself credit for. She hadn't survived Miranda, she was sure, just to die from typhoid (a distinct contender for residence in this place) caught by drinking water. She would be fine. The most trouble she would have would be sending any of the bar's patrons who felt lucky packing.
She hadn't been seated at the bar even three minutes when someone pushed roughly against her shoulder and she closed her eyes in annoyance, just for a fraction of a second. So now it begins. It would be best to ignore whoever this prince charming was until his overtures became vocal; she should probably try to talk her way out of it (this was one approach she could never seem to convince Mal to take…) and leave the kicking of the asses until it was absolutely imperative.
"Sorry, Miss," the voice at her shoulder chimed, sounding out of breath. Inara wasn't sure she wanted to turn around and find out why this person was out of breath, but if she didn't respond he would just assume that she was scared and then the situation would, doubtless, turn completely go se.
"It's quite alright," she responded as she turned, her friendliest, least alluring smile pasted to her face. The man before her was large, slightly pudgy though by no means ugly. He looked somehow lost, as if he had no idea how he'd gotten into the bar. In fact, were she being truthsome, she would have said that he looked even less able to take care of himself than she did. He was wearing a grey and red jacket and pants, though nothing about this uniform (and she felt certain it was a uniform) gave any indication of where he worked. Oh no, that wasn't quite right; the patch on his shoulder had some sort of symbol that looked like an "A," and written underneath it was the word "Atlantis." Maybe he worked as a security guard, or a tech, for one of the city's casinos, she mused, though she was sure she'd never heard of one with that name before. But then, she had been out in the black with Mal and Serenity for quite a long time…
"Em, uh," the man stammered (quite the public speaker she thought to herself) "I don't mean to uhm- Well I know this sounds kind of crazy, and I'd really like you not to mug me when you hear this, cos I don't have any money, but could you tell me where I am?" He sounded like a lost little kid, and despite herself Inara smiled. This man was obviously very, very drunk. "Like, I don't know how I got here, at all. I was in lab 3 and then wham! I'm here by that booth-" he gestured distractedly at the corner, and wrinkled his nose. "I really hope I don't get rabies," he muttered to himself.
"You would be wise not to let the bar-keep hear you express such an opinion," she smiled, more warmly this time.
"Rodney, is that you?" Another man, wearing a similar uniform in differing colours wandered over to them, looking (if possible) even more confused than his companion. "O aye, and who's this?" he asked politely, holding his hand out in greeting. Inara had been too well brought up to refuse such an obvious invitation, and she took his hand lightly in her own. It was soft, she reflected, light and uncalloused though with a strong grip. Actually, despite the difference in ages it reminded her of Simon Tam's, more than anything else. This man had never had to do heavy labour, which meant that he must be well in the way of riches. Though whether they were legally gained or not was another matter. But he looked friendly, and certainly didn't leer at her the way every other man in the place was doing. Inara decided that she liked this one.
"That's your first question?" "Rodney," snapped. "Carson, we have just materialised in the cantina from Star Wars and all you can do is hit on the gorgeous woman beside the bar?"
"Carson," looked sourly at his friend. "There's a reason you don't have a girlfriend Rodney." Inara bit back the urge to laugh out loud. "Pay him no heed, lass, he was born bitter, that one."
"Nice bedside manner Beckett!"
Carson opened his mouth to retaliate and Inara held up her hand. These two were harmless, and they would certainly make entertaining companions while she waited for Zoë and Mal. Deciding it best to treat them like the children they obviously were she wagged her finger admonishingly. "Now, now, children! Is that any way to speak to a lady? Companions are supposed to spread joy and harmony wherever they go; you'll ruin my reputation!"
"Aye, that's your job, Miss? Are you a companion to a lady or something?"
"What is this, Brideshead Revisited?" Rodney muttered. "Would any woman that beautiful have to go into domestic service?" He shook his head. "He's just trying to find out if you've seen The Remains of the Day; trying to cash in on that damn accent."
"At least I have ways and means, Rodney: there's a reason why Laura and I are going out."
"I know, it's called a mild concussion."
"Whereas the time she spent with you was more like an artificially-induced stroke."
Again Inara laughed, thinking unaccountably of Mal and Wash when they went head to head. "My lovely lady, are these two tarakani bothering you?" Another man had appeared, a smaller one wearing glasses, his hair sticking out from his head as if he had stuck his finger into an electronic socket. She blinked as he reached out and took her hand, lightly brushing her knuckles with a kiss.
"Shi, shi, it's quite alright."
The newcomer blinked, and immediately began speaking to her in perfectly accented Mandarin. Hearing Cantonese was quite common, but this kind of Mandarin had been a stranger to her since she left the core worlds. Now this man was obviously from a well off family, she thought; the hair-style alone was on the richer side of eccentric. He explained that his two companions had only been released from a mental facility for the hopelessly inept, and that he was in charge of making sure they learned normal human intercourse. Perhaps she could help? Let them buy her a drink and laugh as they made idiots of themselves?
Rodney and Carson were watching jealously, obviously suspecting that they weren't coming out well from this (unintelligible) conversation. The Mandarin speaker (he said his name was Radek) winked at her.
"Hello? HELLO? Radek, do you have any idea where we are or how we got here? Or how we're going to get back-"
"Rodney, breath before you have heart-attack, alright? There was an accident, we should be able to fix it in a few minutes, Doctors Grace and Johanssen were already working on it when I was sucked in. Something to do with an energy field not being monitored properly." He looked at Rodney over his glasses. Carson likewise turned to Rodney
"Yes, well, I was very busy- But what if they can't-"
"Doctor Grace swore she would get you back even if it means coming through portal and carrying you back over her shoulders." Radek signalled to the bar-man. "What is good to drink here, Miss..?"
"Inara. Inara Serra. And the only thing you might be safe drinking is the beer. They boil it before they serve it."
"Is there any citrus in it?" Rodney asked fretfully.
"Rodney, who makes beer with citrus?"
"You people eat sheep's stomach, I think I can safely say that some cultures have whacky ideas about haute cuisine!"
"Believe me, if there was a way to get drunk off citrus we Scots would have found it," Carson snapped back, before breaking into a language even Inara had never heard, the string of abuse culminating in an inventive against "Bloody Sassanachs!"
Again Radek winked.
"So, who wants to be brave?" Inara asked, batting her eyelashes playfully. "Or will a poor woman have to test it herself?"
"I will!" Funny how three men who argued so much could say the exact same thing at the exact same time.
"Bar-keep!" Inara called.
About 17 pints later
"You see, the thing of it is, I'm really, really smart!" Rodney banged the bar with his palm. "Like, like soooo smart that I'm like light years ahead of everyone else, but that's, that's not what women want!" He looked up at Inara from where he held his head a mere inch away from the bar. "Women want… They want… They want elf-ears!"
"Rodney, what bollocks are ye talkin' now?" Carson was sitting with his back to the bar, having sunk down to floor level after he lost his staring contest with the little green fairy on the spirit bottles behind the bar. ("It's not running away!" he'd yelled, "It's a tactical withdrawal!")
Rodney scrambled round on his high stool, trying to locate Beckett. "It's not bollocks! We see it every day! Every time we go off-world, John just turns up and smiles and waggles those elfie-ears of his and the girls just swoon." He took another swig, muttering "Bloody Legolas wannabe." Whatever that meant, Inara thought.
"It is true, my friend," Radek nodded sagely. The little man was now serving behind the bar. "You see it all the time when he's around." He opened his mouth to continue, then apparently forgot what he was going to say.
Inara shook her head. She was slightly drunk, though years of entertaining as a companion meant that she could hold her liquor even better than Mal. "You three are unbelievable! You are all intelligent, witty men, and if I may say, excellent company."
There was a chorus of "No, no, no!" but she ploughed on. "I'm serious. I have known many men in my time, and few of them have ever been as entertaining as you."
The men looked at each other. "Then why are we alone?"
"Speak for yourself," Beckett muttered.
"We can't all count on "Doctor Kildare Syndrome," Rodney zinged.
"He snaps back like knicker elastic!" Carson retorted.
Inara stopped for a moment. Should she tell them the truth, or keep them sweet? Were they clients she wouldn't even have asked herself the question, but these boys seemed genuinely nice. And drunk. Very, very drunk. She took a deep breath.
"You can learn all the tricks you want, learn how to please and manipulate to get what you want from people, it's not that difficult. But it will not make you happy." She thought of Mal, The Gorram Human Confusion Generator (fear his power!). "Some day someone will come along and you will want them to want you, just as you are. That means, with all your problems and faults. With all your baggage and shung man yao. And the only way you will ever achieve a relationship is if you trust them enough to let them see it."
The men stopped, nodding sagely, wisely. They wouldn't remember this the next day, Inara felt sure. Carson and Radek leaned further into their drink, lost in their own thoughts. Only Rodney still stared at her.
"What if you personal baggage is too much?" he asked quietly. "What if there's nothing great or noble, or even worthwhile and likeable going on underneath your skin? What then?" He looked down into his drink, addressed the amber liquid. "What then, answer me that."
In her role as a companion, Inara was accustomed to seeing the flesh-wounds of people's history, of seeing the shadows of former pain become pattern on their skin. She was always honoured when she was present for such a moment, as she was now. It was yet more proof of the private soul that only lovers usually get to see. She placed her hand gently on his shoulder. Her training, were he a client, would tell her to immediately kiss him, mutter about his skill, his allure. But he wasn't a client, and maybe she was tired of dealing with everyone the way she'd been taught to. Mal acted on the brain, on the heart, like alcohol. "I see nothing in you that is evil, or malicious. I see only one who is afraid."
"Teyla said that to me once, at a party."
"This Teyla was correct." She paused, unsure how to go on. "I know 52 separate ways to kiss someone, did you know that? What to say, what to do, pressure, texture, signals, everything, it's like a battle plan. And I know what will happened should I kiss anyone in any one of those ways. So for so long, I only ever kissed in the way I'd been taught. It was safe, and knowable."
"A leads to B, QED," Rodney laughed mournfully.
"Exactly. But it turns out that there are other ways to kiss someone. And I only learned that recently. I… had a clarity upon how these matters should go. And out of fear of the unknown, of taking an action whose consequences were beyond my reckoning, I nearly lost everything. Everyone," she amended to herself. "When you stop being afraid, then you will stop being alone."
"I don't think I'll ever stop being afraid."
She smiled wanly, remembering her own thoughts as she'd left the Training House for Serenity. "You walk until you can't walk no more," she quoted, closing her eyes "And then when you can't walk you crawl. And then, when you can't crawl no more, you find someone to carry you."
"He's too bloody heavy for anyone to carry!" Carson's voice chimed from below the bar.
"Doctor Grace said she would carry him. So did Teyla. He is actually very popular subject for carrying." Inara and Rodney peered over the bar to where Radek was now lying lengthways on the floor, still wiping down a glass, eyes closed.
She smiled, realising the intelligent portion of the evening was probably over at this stage, and squeezed Rodney's hand, giving him a small peck on the cheek. "Someone will carry you, when you need them to," she whispered.
"And what happens after that?"
"You carry them."
"So all of life and romance is essentially heavy lifting," Radek piped up.
"Mostly, yes. And elf-ears don't have a Gorram thing to do with it."
The portal was swirly and blue, beautiful to look at. It appeared slightly after dawn, and the three boys were lucky that Inara was still awake to see it. A figure could just be made out, on the other side, shimmering like a mirage. Even from here Inara could see that the boys were right: he had elf-ears. Carson went through first, having thanked her for a lovely night. Radek next, managing to suavely kiss her hand again even though he looked (and smelt) like he'd spent the night in a stable. Rodney was last to leave. He shook her hand awkwardly, and she smiled. With one wicked grin at the portal she pulled him close and kissed him deliberately on the mouth, using all the verve she could muster, and was rewarded with both a dazed grin from the man himself and protestations of outrage from her companions on the other side of the gateway. For once, Rodney knew to keep his mouth shut, and smiling delightedly, walked through the portal with the slight swagger of a man pleased with his night.
"Where the hell you been, woman?" A familiar voice demanded.
"Drinking with strange men, discussing heavy lifting an other related subjects. Anyone try to shoot you?"
"Wouldn't be Badger if he didn't." The girls in the Training House were right, she mused: Mal really did look like a pirate.
She smiled, took his hand as he sidled in, looking very much like he aimed to misbehave. "Are you drunk?" he asked, slightly incredulously, as she tucked her arm into his.
"No," she murmured, "No, I'm just… merry." She laughed and began pulling him towards the door, ignoring the amused smirk on Zoë's face. "Let's go home, Mal."
"You are drunk!"
"You can't open up the book of my life and start a-readin' from the middle!" And she laughed, well pleased with her time spent on Persephone. Unsure as to why she was so pleased, adorably confused, Mal followed.
"Mal," she asked as they left. "Has anyone ever told you that you have elf ears?"
A/N Well, did you enjoy it? Please review and let me know what you think…