The hairbrush sailed gracefully across the room. On other days, in other times, Inara would have admired the arc, and the end-over-end flip, but she had already turned away, looking for another missile. When none was immediately visible – except for some sculptures and statuettes that were at the very least difficult to replace – she sank down on the bed and settled for running her fingers through her hair. Eight days, she thought to herself. Eight days of smiling and laughing and feeling none of it. She sighed and looked up at her mirror. "You are a moron," she said aloud. "And an idiot." You know this was for the best. Her eyes slid closed as she bent forward, the weight of her thoughts pulling her down.

Leaving Serenity – leaving him! – had been a necessary thing. Her client base was waning, and those she still had were becoming more difficult to maintain contact with. She needed to get herself back on the path she had chosen for her life. Not that she regretted joining the Firefly's crew, but that part of her life was over now. Had to be.

She replayed the blur of their last conversation over and over. All that she remembered of what he'd said had been: "This won't be the last time we meet, Princess." It was an ongoing joke about her personality. And she had said something about it no longer meaning what it used to. Then she'd said the words that echoed through her empty rooms: "I can tell you now what I never could before: I love you. Just the way I love Book and Wash… I will be thinking of you. I wish you nothing but the best." She couldn't even look at him. Had purposefully not said these goodbyes until the ship had left her on Sihnon, and then had not opened a visual channel, only audio. And he had had very little to say after that.

I had to say it! She wanted to cry out. Wasn't it for the best? Didn't it make leaving easier for you? What a lie it had been. Through the many hours of her days her mind chanted his name, regardless of the place or what she was doing. She'd see him walk through a door, his brown coat swinging. There were daydreams where she knew it wasn't real, but it made her happy to pretend he was there behind her with his arms around her. Then the shattering realization that he wasn't there, would never be there again… Those moments were so painful, and coming so frequently, that at each one she almost convinced herself to call, and at what felt like the last second stopped herself. That was where the worst pain was. She knew she wouldn't call, wouldn't speak to him again. She had chosen this, and Inara always did as she had decided.

She looked up at her reflection again, finally. Still no tears, just like she promised herself.