The Doll Maker's Fortune Cookie
By Cassandra E
Rating: PG-13 For dark themes.
Disclaimer: Not mine, sadly. Firefly is property of blah, blah…Fox, 20th Century, Whedon. Etc. This story is mine and no profit is being made, which sucks. LOL Kiddin'.
Summary: A Companion has fallen from grace.
Author notes: I hate this story. I don't like it at all. It sucks. I wrote it last year, and I still don't like it. Alas, why I waited so long to post it here to the general public. I had it archived at my website and at my livejournalbefore then. I have thought of rewriting it, but it doesn't want to. Yes, it told me so.
And in the end, I still have an aversion to it. Really. Your opinion may be the same, or different.–C.E
White Rabbit, Boros
I lived in a place as I wished,
Now I am lodged in this little coffin,
My room was adorned with fine tapestry,
Now my grave is enveloped by cobwebs.—Francois Villon, ballad
She had left, or so she thought. It was an illusion really, something she was already used to - had been since her early years as a young trainee in the House when she first began to take in the world around her. Illusions were her art, her craft, her trade, and her life. One never stopped practicing, not a true Companion.
Inara was a Companion.
After weeks of postponing the inevitable, making her decision more difficult than she could bear—Inara left. But she now knew her departure was only an illusion. She still felt Serenity with her, still heard the ghost voices of the crew, still felt the cold steady metal floor beneath her. Inara felt foolish that she had tried to delude herself. Her efforts were not at all professional and somewhat tacky.
A Companion is beauty.
Companions train to distance themselves emotionally so that their energies and attention are focused on the client. The client's needs mattered most and Companions played whatever parts were needed to fulfill the client's desires.
Inara was a whore.
Maybe she hadn't felt anything when she announced to the crew that she was leaving. No, that was a lie.She remembered forcing away the guilt proved by Kaylee's tear-stained face. She redoubled her efforts when she glanced towards the Captain. Struggling to retain her composure, she forced herself to remain quiet It was unspoken, always. It was their way. His way. Hundan
A Companion is elegance.
Inara was proud of her craft, of her ability to bring simple joys to her clients. To make them feel loved, handsome, beautiful, and special. These were normal feelings to have in regard to the work that one has been trained in for their entire life. Human nature. Her training taught her to understand the little inner workings of her clients. And she was proud of it no matter what anyone else thought.
He made it dirty, like her duty didn't mean a damn thing at all. As if her purpose frivolous, he made her feel like the common soil on the ground. No better than him. Knowing he was wrong, this angered her. Or maybe knowing she was wrong.
She cursed silently as she stabbed the needle through the delicate blue cloth and then regretted her action. A hole had torn through. Inara sighed as she pushed the needle forward to mend her error. She hated the bad habits she had picked up on her travels. They reflected badly on a woman of her standing. Would have been undignified, she corrected herself silently.
Her mentor would be shocked, hearing such thoughts. But not him. Teasing with that sly smile, he would laugh at her corruption—how the mighty had fallen. And Inara had fallen such a long ways down. And nobody had cared to help her up.
Smoke filled the room, and she couldn't breathe. Her hands desperately clawed at the door to her room, a nail broke. She cried out. It wouldn't budge, locked. And the heat was now unbearable, flames dancing near her. They licked and devoured the fine furniture and paintings in the quarters.
Inara was a liar.
She had lived to bring peace and beauty to a dirty, hard universe. That was a Companion's true purpose. And Inara thought she had perfected her calling. Before leaving Sihnon, she had been one of the best. Men and women spoke of her beauty, dignity, and her class before she left and more often after her return. She had been destined to go down in the Guild's records as the embodiment of a true Companion, a grand honor any Companion could aspire to.
A Companion is a lie.
After finishing the small dress, Inara set it aside on the oak table. The table was old and rickety; it needed a new glossy coat finish and one of the legs wobbled. She had placed sheets of paper under one of the legs to steady it so that it could more or less serve its purpose. She unrolled her case of paint brushes. An old Asian man, Ling, had sold the set to her on a large discount. He was a kind gentle man who reminded her of her grandfather. He peddled wares around town, tools and fabrics for craftsmen and artists. The brushes were used, but well cared for and of good quality. She took care of them as if they were her only child. Undecided which one to use first, Inara carefully glided her hand fondly over the fine tipped bristles.
Inara was human.
Companions were treated as an unproven myth by the commoners. People knew they existed, but to be in their presence was an unforgettable experience. They were demi-goddesses, whose alluring beauty was striking, binding hearts of men and women with a single smile, a coy glance. They were Eve with forbidden fruit in hand, tempting, leading men astray from their families, from their wives, even though it was socially accepted. Companions occupied an accepted place in the universe and society. They were independent, yet bound by a golden cage filled with riches and silks. Trapped in their servitude by their own lies, Companions were slaves to society's rules and to themselves.
A Companion is an illusion.
Once upon a time, Inara dreamed of simple things: a family, children, and freedom. She had wanted to see the 'verse as well, one desire granted. However, she never dreamed that one desire brought forth more. Desires denied devoured the shells of those come to pass until they grew too large with want and demanded too much from her. It had not been her purpose, her duty, her craft—Companions only desire was to bring their clients to completion. The desires of the client were all that mattered. Not the other way around: anything else was selfish. A Companion gave; she did not take and, above all, did not want.
Inara's eyes watered, her breathing became shallow, blocked by the smoke in the room. She resumed her pounding on the door, someone had to hear her. Someone had to.
A perfect illusion.
Inara's hand landed on the smallest brush, a delicate fine tip. She smiled as she reached over to a small paint jar. It was filled with red, like the blood pricked from a rose thorn. She had loved roses, white ones. Her clients had always brought her red ones; she had learned not to like the color red. Inara opened the jar, dipping the brush ever so slightly. Her hand shook. She clenched her hand in a fist until the tremor subsided. Picking up the delicate china, she began to paint the lips of the faceless doll. She used to have a steady hand, her clients always said so. Not any more, not since the accident.
A knock sounded on the door, loud and quick. Inara paused in mid stroke, frowning when some paint splattered on the white cheek. It slashed the doll's face, an angry welting scar. She fought the urge to shatter the face, too many reminders of the past. She didn't like being reminded. But she could fix it; Inara did not have the leisure of throwing things away anymore. Placing the doll face on the work table along with the paint brush, she stood up and made her way across the dusty floor. Her feet were light on the cold concrete, her sandals too worn out for use. She liked the cold, liked the way it numbed her body, seeping through her bones, dulling other aches and other desires. She did not have the luxury to want now, to demand. Not that she did before. It didn't matter now.
Inara opened the door, and smiled at her visitor. Ling grinned, toothless gaps showing between his teeth. In his hand was a small brown parcel from which the tantalizing aroma of jiao-ziand fried rice wafted in the small little studio. She felt her stomach growl in hunger; unconsciously she placed her hand on her stomach. She flushed in embarrassment, "Duibuqi my friend."
Ling laughed at her modesty, "No, no, good that you hungry. Must eat, sleep well." he leaned forward, his dark eyes twinkling with conspiracy, "Big beauty secret."
She smiled sadly, feeling the skin on her right cheek pull awkwardly. "You're too good to me, Ling."
The old man shook his head, eyes scolding. "Silly girl, you meili Soul shines, more important." Remembering the parcel in his hand, the eager smile returned, "Now, Ling brought you good stuffs. Fried rice, best in plaza town. Got good deal too." Ling finished proudly, passing the parcel of food to Inara.
"Xiexie, friend. I'm ever grateful to you, and indebted." Inara said honestly.
Ling waved the words away, speaking in broken English. "No, no. Be good in life, is what Ling does." Just as he turned away, he stopped and took something from his pocket. The plastic wrapper crinkled loudly as he happily placed the cookie on top of the parcel. "Forgot, fortune. Bring you good luck."
Inara gave a small laugh, disbelieving the old man's words. "That's what you always say. I have yet to have one come true."
"You see, this time will work. Buddha makes people wait, humble them—do good for heart. Next time, you say, Mr. Ling was right. You see," he said earnestly. "Be good, stay safe."
The fire neared, and she vaguely felt the heat close to her face. Then there was screaming and searing pain, Inara didn't know who was making such a racket. A woman, Companion. Before the blackness took over, she realized it was her own.
She said once last thank you before closing the door. Inara walked back to a corner of her work space as she carefully opened the package. Upon opening, two wooden chop sticks that were on top of the food package fell out. One rolled towards the end of the table, drumming as it slid at the edge. It balanced unsteadily before dropping with a light ping. She bent down and picked it up, running her thumb down its form. Thoughtfully, she pursed her lips, ignoring the dry pull at the right of her face. Picking up the one on the table, an idea occurred. Inara could reinforce the doll's body structure with the sticks.
That meant she would have to eat her lunch with her hands or she could use the old ones from two months back. They had begun to splinter at the ends. She tapped the table with one before deciding what to do. Lunch could wait and the splinters weren't so bad. She had been through worse. Inara placed the chop sticks near the unfinished doll's body. She wrapped the parcel again, her stomach rumbling in protest. It would be wise to finish the doll first so she could sell the week's merchandise. The landlord was already demanding the month's rent. She needed the money from her craftwork or it would be the streets for her.
Bitterness dripped into her thoughts as she remembered when she didn't have to scrape by in such meager ways. In fact, she had always named the price for her living arrangements. Wasn't that how…Serenity, Mal... Inara closed off her mind to the names, disliking how the pain bloomed in her heart at the thought of them. She sat back down in her seat, but her gaze was drawn to the simple fortune cookie wrapped in plastic across from her. Maybe a little snack wouldn't hurt; it would dull the hunger until she finished the doll.
Inara gave in to the hunger pangs and reached for the cookie. She studied it in her hands, remembering when she had received a similar one. River had given her one on Serenity as a goodbye present. The girl had smiled at Inara oddly and spoken softly as the Companion hugged her. "Lost in the woods, you'll get burned."
"You know what you to do, Inara." Her old mentor spoke as she handed the box to her. The older woman's eyes were hard and unforgiving, with maybe a hint of pity. The other priestesses and priests were silent, their reproving gazes speaking loud enough for them.
Thinking back on that day, Inara supposed she should've listened to the girl. Inara was excellent at reading between people's actions and words. It was her craft, but instead she had brushed away the young girl's warnings. Even after the incident with Jubal Early, no one knew what to make of River Tam. Psychic or Insanity? Inara still didn't know; she wondered how the girl was now. It had been two year since she left the ship, only a week after the bounty hunter's attack on Serenity.
Had it been two years? Two years since…Inara touched the right side of her face; letting her fingers trail across the lumpy scars caused by the severe burns. They began just below the far corner of her eye crossing the cheek bone down to the corner of her lip. To be honest, she was lucky they weren't worse. It was fortunate that the medics had attended to her quickly due to her status. Not that it mattered anymore; the incident in itself had ruined her completely. All that hard work, all her personal sacrifices hadn't meant a damn thing in the end. Her craft, her art, all of it was wasted and gone.
She didn't know what was worse, the scarring or realizing that she fooled herself into believing she actually belonged. The hard truth was that she really didn't have a place in the workings of things. And that she was only good to people if she was pretty and compliant to their needs.
"It is a deep shame you have brought this on yourself." Her mentor added further, "You're no longer to associate yourself with The Guild, nor with the House Madrassa. Nor any with the House or Guild to associate with you. Do you understand?
A trophy on a man's arm, isn't that what he had said before? Inara wished she could hate him, for speaking the truth, for forcing her to see it. She had been quite comfortable in her world of lies and masks. It had been her world and he didn't have the right to criticize it. He didn't belong there; he never belonged any place. Always stubbornly Independent. Fool. Stupid, lucky fool didn't realize what he had. His mind always on what had been lost and what would never be recovered.
Inara had lost everything.
She ripped opened the plastic wrapping, careful not to crumble the cookie just yet. She broke it in half and pulled out the little paper inside. Her heart gave a little skip as she read the familiar script on the white paper, "You simplify your life in many ways and find great rewards."
She looked around the small studio room, taking in the bareness of the place. A bed, a thin bedspread, a wobbly table and a chair for both work and meals. An extra change of clothes: a simple cotton blouse and skirt as well as a pair of boots, for when the weather got cold and wet. Yes, she thought, quite simple. And she hated it. She hated the loneliness that came with it; the seclusion after the Guild had banished her. And most all, she hated the pitying looks given to her by the people who passed by, the murmurs and stares flittering about like annoying flies. She wished she could squash them all, shutting their chatter up. She was a Companion; she needed no one's pity. She still had pride in herself and what she had been. Maybe not as strong, but the spark was there.
Inara nodded slowly. The drug the doctor had prescribed for the pain dulling her senses. She felt nothing. "I understand, Mistress." Her hands trembled as she took the wooden box from the older woman's hand, fear betraying her. The black silk shawl that was artfully arranged around her face, loosened.
A Companion is proud.
Inara laughed out loud, the laughter taking a hysterical edge. Bitterness deep within her heart flared so fiercely that she felt it cutting through her. The sting tasted tangy on her tongue. She reread the fortune again recalling suddenly where she had read the words before. It was the same fortune that had been in the cookie River had given her before Inara had left Serenity. She had unwrapped the cookie on her trip back to Sihnon. The girl probably had seen what would happen all along. Psychic or insanity? Maybe it was both, maybe neither. Inara found she didn't care anymore. She crumbled the paper and flicked it across the room. Picking up her paint brush, she finished painting the doll's red lips.
Inara hated the color.
She held herself proudly, didn't want to give them the satisfaction how greatly this affected her. Could not give it to them. She had done nothing wrong.
And now she was nothing.
The next morning Inara set out early hoping to catch the new arrivals passing by White Rabbit. She wore a black shawl loosely around her head, it covered most of the damaged side of her face. The material was a wispy, light silk and exquisitely embroidered in gold thread. She had refused to part with it after selling most of her precious belongings that had survived the fire to buy passage off Sihnon. The rest of her savings had been confiscated by the Alliance to pay for her client's damages. The Guild didn't object the decision despite knowing good and well that a Companion's earnings were her own.
A heavy fist cracked against her cheek, the force made her bite her lip. She tasted the blood as the man took use of her body. The client liked it rough, he hadn't agreed to the price she had set. But Inara had needed the money, she was hungry, had not eaten in days.
The shawl was her only keepsake besides the box given to her by her mentor. The contents were different from before. She had been forced to return the other one—a burden and duty now off her shoulders. Inara didn't dare use the new one though; she wasn't that brave and she wasn't that desperate. And she knew that the events leading to her disgrace hadn't been her fault. Perhaps part of it, but the tamade hundan shared blame also. She didn't lie to herself any more. Nandi had been right along, leaving the House. Inara wished her friend was still alive; she had no doubt that Nandi would never have show her the door.
She pushed her mini cart filled with her finished china dolls, the faint smear of red paint still glowed on one of them. Also in the cart were paper fans, dragons and spaceships artfully made with precision in each sweeping stroke. While the materials that Ling brought her were always discounted or used, they were of high quality all the same. Children loved them and it brought joy to Inara's soul to see the pleasure and joy of the happy faces when a father or an auntie bought a toy for them.
The children often stared at her and a few would bluntly ask what was wrong with her face. Inara never minded. Indeed, the curiosity and honesty of a child was a refreshing respite from the hypocrisy and lies of their elders.
She reached the spot she rented from Lou Ann Ming, the fruit vender. Lou Ann always had the sweetest strawberries when the fruit was in season. The young woman was kind to Inara and sometimes gave her a little extra if the vendor had some fruit left over. Some would take this as charity and at first Inara had been wary of it, but she now knew Lou Ann didn't mean anything by it. Like Ling, she possessed a simple and gracious soul.
"Good day, Inara May." Lou Ann called to her with a wave. The woman didn't know that the last name was in actuality her middle name. Sometimes, Inara felt bad in deceiving her, but it was best this way. After all, the person Inara Serra had been had died a long time ago.
"Good day, Lou Ann. Strawberries in season already?" Inara asked, making conversation as she set up her cart. Gently, she arranged the dolls in a presentable way. Since the day wasn't windy, she set up a paper dragon and several spaceships on display. She kept the rest in the back, folded carefully, ready for purchase if some should sell during the day.
"Ripe and red, those some pretty dolls. You get better each time. You such an artist," Lou Ann observed as she handed over a batch of strawberries to a customer.
A Companion is an artist.
She closed her eyes, and waited for it to be over. The glamour and the art was gone, no gloss to cover the reality and crudeness of the act. It was survival now, plain and simple. The man panted, taking his time, even though Inara well enough knew it was for his age. Past his prime, she squeezed her legs tighter, to hurry him along.
"Xiexie, now you're being nice." Inara replied.
"You too modest." Lou Ann shot back cheekily. "You pretty girls all like that."
Inara smiled ruefully all too aware of the scar along her face. "Yes, seems we are." She knelt down to ensure that the wheels were locked so it wouldn't roll over or make an easy target for thieves. As she fiddled with a lock that refused to move, the market grew busier. Inara filtered through the everyday sounds and voices listening for potential customers.
"I mean, are you sure? That she would like them? I mean…strawberries? I wanted something special," said a male voice from the vicinity of Lou Ann's stall. "I got them for her last time. Is it a good idea to get a girl food all the time? What if she gets the wrong message?"
A vaguely familiar female voice stated her own observations. "You're such a boob. That only happens if she asks if she looks unflattering in clothes, like dress for a party. Don't you know anything?"
Inara felt her stomach clench in knots as a deep sense of foreboding washed over her. No, it couldn't be? Impossible! Then she heard it - a new voice, smooth in delivery and uncultured with an endearing drawl at the end. The sound of it sent a warm feeling to the pit of her stomach. "Now, now, you know better than to tease your da ge. He's a mite slow after all."
A Companion never forgot a voice or a face.
She knew that voice, remembered its condescending smug tones.
"That's true; I think he was switched at birth. These things do happen." the girl said with a prolonged sigh. "Space monkeys have possessed him."
"Yes, please do encourage her," the other male voice snapped with irritation, "But I suppose the wrench set is a perfect birthday gift."
"It is if it's Kaylee's birthday. Don't be jealous, doc. I'm sure you'll find just the thing to make Kaylee's heart go pitter patter. And you got a way with words and hell if that don't make a woman swoon," the second male voice drawled. His tone reflected his enjoyment in baiting his target.
The girl cried in joy when she caught site of the toy crate. "Oh, look…"
Inara quickly double wrapped the shawl around her, covering face completely and leaving only a narrow opening for her eyes. She stood and kept her eyes downcast. Thankfully the day was overcast and her spot was in a shaded area otherwise the heat would be unbearable. In front of her, River beamed excitedly at the paper spaceship ignoring the dragon and the dolls. "It's Serenity, she made Serenity, Captain!"
Mal peered over River's shoulder, curious at what had caught the girl's attention. "That she did, nice model too. Looks almost like her." He turned his attention to the sale vendor whose dark eyes look a mite familiar. "You do good work, though Fireflies ain't many folks' favorite no more. How much for it?"
She then faked a little cry of pain, knowing it would simulate the man further. The man groaned as his relief took hold, she felt the wetness on her thighs. He rolled off of her slowly, and only was it then when she opened her eyes again.
Inara answered in a low husky voice hoping he wouldn't recognize her. "Ten bits."
"Well, I supposed that's reasonable enough," Mal said, his eyes studying the woman before him then glancing briefly at River. "And you behaved well this week. Well, better than Jayne. I'll take it."
Feeling those dark blue eyes on her, she wanted to run. Her body and mind ordered her too, but she was trapped. River giggled, her laughter tinkling like miniature bells as she picked up the Serenity model and flung it towards Inara. A wind gust blew out no where causing the model to land half way to her feet. Mal cursed and moved forward to pick it up. Their hands met midway, his hand warm on her own. It penetrated the cold of her hands and soul; it had been such a long time. Inara held her breath as she forced her eyes to avoid his stare.
"Sorry about that. Girl's odd in the head, if you get my meaning." Mal said, not moving his hand from hers. He noticed the woman had fine hands with graceful fingers that showed slight calluses not used to hard work. He remembered hands like those and remembered the woman who had them. Which made him wonder as the model lay beneath their hands. "This might seem a mite forward, but I swear I've seen you before."
Inara shook her, not daring to speak. She could run. She was good at running. That's what she did, ran when things got too complicated. In Sihnon and Serenity. Why wouldn't her legs move?
Inar picked up the worn out robe from the floor and wrapped it around her. She waited until the man dressed, listening to the rustle of movement. When she heard nothing else, she stood only to feel a knife at her throat.
"The May's come early this season, her lips are red and eyes of honey. Her rains are tears when she cries, to put out the fires," River sang the quick melody. Simon looked at his sister and then to the captain and the vender in confusion. Something was going on, but he was not catching it.
Another gust blew through the market sending the tents and covers flapping. Inara forgot to hold on to her shawl and it had loosened enough that it fell away from her face in the sudden breeze and slid down her shoulders. Suddenly, everything was exposed in plain view. She felt the blood rush to her head and failed to see Simon's stunned expression or River silently watching with interest. She only saw the surprise on Mal's face, his gaze tracing the burn scars and he said one word, one name, only she couldn't hear it. Just the roaring of the blood rushing and the bustle of the market. But she could read the name his mouth formed. "Inara?"
She always liked how he said her name, with his unrefined tongue; had always wondered how he would say it in bed below or above her.
It seemed to break the spell upon them. Inara snatched her hand away and made to run. But Mal was too quick, he grabbed her by the arm. His grip was tight, the heat searing through her skin. "Inara, wait."
A Companion is always prepared.
"Don't move or scream and you'll live to see next light. Just gonna take a few valuables, not that whores have any." he said, hot air blowing at her neck. The scent of sweat and sex filled her nostrils. She nodded, gauging how much leverage she had against him. Inara moved, and the knife bit into her skin. A warm trickle of blood slid down her neck. The man cursed and shoved her unto the bed, while he ransacked through her few belongings. He whistled appreciatory when he found the jewelry. Not much, just a pair of gold earrings she smuggled past the Alliance feds when they collected her inventory.
She moved automatically, the material arts defensive training taught to all Companions took over. With her free hand, she hit upwards under his chin jerking his head back. The movement gave her enough time raise her knee and slam it into his groin. Mal yelped as she delivered one final shove. She broke free. Seeing him stumble, she ran.
Inara ran, the wind whipping her hair back. She ran past all the stalls shoving people who got in her way. She faintly heard Lou Ann yelling her name, but she didn't look back. Seeing an alley, she ducked in quickly still running. Her booted feet slapped the concrete relentlessly as her breath came in short pants. When she felt she was far enough, Inara stopped, sliding her body against backdoor of a ritzy restaurant as she gulped to catch her breath. Old world Italian called Maggianos. Filthy qui, catered to the upper crust. It had been one of her favorites.
A Companion doesn't cry.
And for the first time in two years since the Heart of Gold, Inara felt the tears spill mourning the lives she had left behind.
Despite herself, Inara watched in despair as he took her red dress. Silk, expensive, fetching a good price if sold or pawned to higher class dress makers. She scrambled up from the bed, taking the man for surprise. Tearing the dress away from his hands, she ordered him to leave. "Go, or I'll…"
The man smiled, "Or what? You'll do nothing, whore." The knife was now replaced with a gun.
Inara watched as he walked out with her only and favorite red dress.
She stayed half an hour behind the restaurant before making her way back to the studio room. The cold greeted her once more and Inara welcomed it. She wondered about the toy cart she had left behind, but it didn't matter anymore. She should have done this a long time ago when her mentor had given her the new box.
She had disgraced the House and the Guild. She had disgraced herself. There was no honor in her shame or in her foolishness. She had been banished. Her named smeared through the mud and she would never be the epitome of what a Companion should be. Inara would now be made an example of to young girls in training - a warning of what disgrace could befall a Companion.
He caressed her cheek lightly. Their bodies were tangled together in red satin sheets, she sighed. He pulled her close to him, grip possessive. "Stay with me. Be only mine."
Inara smiled graciously at his offer. "I can't, our time together is limited. You know that, maybe you…" His eyes gleamed with displeasure at her answer. He let go of her, and got up from the bed. She frowned, a chill racing through her.
There is no honor in disgrace. And everything had been for naught. Years wasted, dreams and hopes dead.
There was one way to restore her honor gracefully. Inara pulled out the small box hidden in the far corner under her bed. She opened it and was greeted by the gleam of the afternoon sunlight reflected on the dagger.
Hara-kiri was an ancient practice that had passed through ages and eons from of the history Earth That Was. If a shamed individual did not complete their duty or found disgrace in any manner, they could find honor through death.
This option was given to Companions as a last resort if disgrace was too great or they fell into enemy hands. Inara had found the practice drastic and distasteful. But when her mentor had handed the box to her, she knew what lay inside. But she had been too much of a coward to go through with the act. The look of utter contempt from her mentor and the elder priestesses the next morning was seared into her mind. These had been woman who she had admired for their beauty, for their minds, and strength. And she had failed them, failed the ideal.
"Robert? Is there something wrong?" She felt foolish in asking, when she clearly read the signs. She had missed something before, he was getting too used to her. Maybe it was time to cut down on appointments with him, after all she had other clients to attend.
But she would change that.
A Companion is honorable.
Inara took the blade and studied her reflection in the sleek blade. The burn scars branded her with a mark of shame for all to see. She took her boots off and knelt in a common praying position. Murmuring a prayer, she picked the blade and hesitated. It had not been all her fault. She closed her eyes. It didn't matter, it had been her mistake that lead to her disgrace.
Quickly, she slid the blade into her belly, gasping as the pain slowly burned and stung twisting sharply through her. She forced herself not to cry out knowing it would shame her further. She needed to push the dagger deeper, but found she could not. It was not all her fault, her heart screamed through the pain. It was not her fault; she didn't need to do this.
Crying out once more in pain, Inara quickly pulled the blade out breathing deep to dull the fierce ache. Her hands were wet and slick with blood. The dagger slid to the floor in a bloody mess. She felt light headed, her eyes drooping as she fell to her side, her hand futilely trying to staunch the the flow of red blood. Red, she hated the color.
"You said that name again, you know that? Last night." Robert answered after buttoning his shirt. His handsome face was twisted in a sneer, an obsessive gleam in his eye. "Serenity. Always that piece of lese. Don't think I don't know how much you yearn to return that…pile of metal. Too him! "
She was taken aback by his knowledge, not of the ship. Everyone knew she had sailed aboard Serenity, but hardly anybody knew about its Captain. "What are saying?"
Inara was a Companion.
And he had been her client. He had been the one to break the rules, and he had gotten away with it. And she had paid the price, dishonored because she should've known better.
A Companion knows better. A Companion watches for the signs of danger.
"You simplify your life in many ways and find great rewards."
"You simplify your life in many ways and find great rewards."
As the chant rolled through her mind unbidden she decided fortune cookies were a load of fei huia. They didn't even taste that good and there was no way a cookie held the answer to one's fate. Inara smiled dreamily, shivering. She was cold, she liked the cold. It used to snow on Sihnon, not hard, but a light, crisp powder and she would make snow angels. Angels…angels come down from Heaven. An ocean of light, no pictures could capture it. Dimly, Inara thought she heard banging on the door. She murmured out loud, "You'll scare them away." But the banging didn't stop, and all of a sudden a crash resounded through the room. Then she felt heat on her face, a hand slapping her awake.
"You know perfectly well, what I mean, Inara." He continued, stopping inches away from her. "I have my resources that informed me well. Half of the women here chatter about your so called brave captain. Your rustic cowboy. Reynolds is his name. Some filthy browncoat."
Inara felt her blood heat in anger. Not at the remarks, she had called him worse. But the intrusion of privacy could not be forgiven. Robert Monterrey did not own her, she was not beholden to him. Cool disdain dripped from her voice like artic winds during Sihnon's worse winters. "You're out of line, Robert. I think its best we terminated our associations for the time being.
"Inara! Gorramit to hell, what did you do? Ai ren, stay with me. Inara, open your eyes, come on! Open them," he yelled at her
She knew that voice, loved the sound of it. The way it butchered simple grammar. But it annoyed her too, why was that? So smug, always wanting to be right. Inara opened her eyes and saw Mal's worried expression; she smiled, lifting her hand to him. He grasped it, held it tight, so warm. She had liked it when he smiled, when he laughed, he had such a lovely smile—it changed his whole face. "Smile for me, Mal."
"'Nara, don't…"
"I'm a Companion, Mal. You complicate things—makes you hard to read." Inara said breathlessly, why was the room turning dark? "I'm cold, Mal, I don't want to be cold anymore."
"Mal!" Simon's rushed into the room, med bag in hand. "What happened? Never mind, move!"
Darkness clouded her vision, and Mal's face became blurry. Inara tried to hold on tighter, "I'm a Companion, it's my craft, it's an art. I wasted it all…"
"I'm a Companion…" she whispered one last time before the universe went black and she was swallowed up by a pain-free unconsciousness, surrendered to serenity.
Large hands fell upon her shoulders, she stiffened at the contact. Reading the maniacal gleam in his eyes, Inara cursed her foolishness. She should've seen the signs! How could she have missed them? "You're mine, Inara." He said harshly.
"No, I'm not. A Companion belongs to her or himself."
"That's left to be seen."
She dreamed she was on Serenity, dressed in her favorite red gown, a deep red.. Her sandals were gold and beaded with tiny amber jewels, handcrafted by gifted artisan hands famous around the 'verse. The black embroidered shawl trailed along across her body as her hair, loose, brushed against it.
The woman stood on the catwalk looking down, but the cargo hold was empty. She frowned. Noticing someone behind her, Inara turned saw Simon dressed in surgeon's white scrubs. "Doctor, what is my prognosis?" she asked, dreading the answer, somehow knowing what it was.
Simon gave her a pitying glance, unsure how to proceed. Inara felt a draft sweep through the hold. Curious, she looked down and saw River dancing to an unheard song around the bay. The young woman twirled gracefully, then spun quickly in circles until she was almost a blur. She returned her attention to the doctor, but now instead of Simon, another doctor stood before her. Without wanting too, the words slipped from her lips, "Just tell me, I'm a big girl."
The doctor looked at the right side of her face and pain flared so deep Inara wanted to cry. Her hand flew to her face and found the scars. She was ruined, a waste. Oh, surgery could do wonders, but her reputation was beyond repair.
"It doesn't mean a damn thing," Mal said tiredly as he materialized beside her leaning against the rail of the catwalk. He watched River dance. The girl now had changed her pace, her movements now sensuous and controlled. He lifted his gaze to her, blue eyes cutting into her. Like jagged edges, she wondered if they cut deep enough. "Ain't that right, Inara?"
"I got tied to it, complicated things. You understand." Inara told him turning away to hide the scars, but he was suddenly in front of her. Inara bewildered, glanced to the place he was before. Mal approached her on the other side, and she backed away. "Leave me alone."
"Things don't go smooth. Never do." Mal said. "We always lose in the end."
He kept advancing on her, and as Inara backed away further the railing had disappeared behind her. She fell screaming. Mal's rough callused hand grabbed her wrist, holding her. She glanced down briefly, vertigo washed over her vision and the cargo hold seem so very far away from this position. She breathed deep in an effort to control the fear that coursed through her.
Inara didn't want to die.
"Don't let go, you hear me Inara?" Mal said to her, getting a better grip on her hand.
River had stopped dancing and stood below watching her dangle from the catwalk. Solemnly with wise dark eyes, the teen promised her, "Once you been in Serenity, you never leave, you just learn to live there. She'll catch you if you fall."
Mal let go of her hand and Inara cried out. Betrayed, she fell once more, slowly, like she was floating, then nothing.
The med bay was silent except for the beeping of the heart monitor. The room smelled too clean and antiseptic like all hospitals did. Her head ached as did her belly, although it was a bit numb. She was warm; a blanket covered her. Inara made this deduction by the feel of the rough material on her body. Slowly, she opened her eyes. The room was familiar, that was her first thought.
She woke to the sensation of someone watching her. Inara's eyes snapped open and gasped as a hand roughly covered her mouth and another one wrapped around her throat. She inhaled to scream, only to have the pressure increased on her throat. The scent of familiar cologne caught her attention, as well as the texture of the hand over her mouth. The figure spoke close to her ear like a lover whispering a secret.
Inara licked her lips which were dry and chapped. She was tired, never had she felt so tired before from just trying to keep her eyes open. But sleep called to her, and she closed them, to rest a bit. Just for a little while
When she opened them again, she awoke only to find a pair of familiar dark blue eyes watching her. Inara shut them again, hoping that it was all a dream.
"I know you're awake," he said flatly.
Reluctantly, she opened them and everything came rushing back to her. Never had she felt so humiliated in her life. For the crew to see how low she had fallen, it made her nauseous. The feeling intensified, the bile rising in her throat. She sat up and gagged, wincing as the movement made the wound in her belly sting painfully protest. He held a metal bed pan while gently holding her hair away from face. After she was done, she wiped her mouth with the cloth he handed her.
"Simon said the anesthesia would have that side effect. How are you feeling?"
"Wo hao, I think." Inara replied, lying back down. She avoided looking directly at him and turned her head so that her scars were covered.
"Good. Now I can tell you that has got to be the stupidest thing you have ever done," Mal bit out, his voice tight with anger
Inara found this bitterly amusing. "Really, worse than my whoring?"
"Don't make light of this, Inara. Do you realize what you did? Tried to do?" Mal demanded, his eyes dark with emotion. Inara had always wondered if they would look the same during lovemaking. Nandi knew, but her friend was dead. Maybe she was the lucky one after all. Nandi didn't have to deal with consequences anymore.
"You haven't answered my waves, Inara. I told you I was sorry." Robert pleaded desperately. Inara slapped him hard across the face. The shock of the blow made him loosen his hold, kicking him, she rolled off the bed. She hit the floor hard, the impact jarring her hands.
"Yes, I do, Malcolm." she answered slowly, patronizing. Anything to block the shame and humiliation she was feeling now. "It's actually quite acceptable recourse."
A Companion did not kiss and tell.
He narrowed his eyes at her blithe response, "You and me are gonna have a talk."
"We're already talking in case you didn't notice." Inara sniped.
Mal looked at her a moment, before asking simply, "What happened to you?"
"None of your business."
The corners of his mouth turned up ruefully, "Actually, I do know. Diyu it was plastered on the cortex for over a year. Banished, huh? How's the shunning going nowadays?"
"How did you get in here, Robert?" she demanded, making sure all visible exits were clear. Inara tried to keep her voice calm as she turned on the lights. The situation had to be contained. She knew very well it would do no good for it to get worse than it already was.
"Don't you understand, Inara? I love you."
"Are you done with your petty foolish ramblings?" Inara ignored the sting his words brought. "I must say they leave something to be desired—but I supposed that's a natural ability of yours."
"You do realize that you can't go anywhere in your condition. So I can stay here all day if need be," Mal reminded her as he crossed his arms stubbornly.
"No you can't, you're the captain—everything will go to ruin if you aren't there to give orders," Inara countered. "Then the world will end."
"Well, hopefully it won't until I'm finishing talking to you."
Inara closed her eyes. "You never were the conversational type."
Mal shrugged, "I turned over a new leaf."
A heavy silence reigned in the following moments and, for a second, Inara dared to believe he had left. The only sound in the room was the steady beep of the monitors along with the I.V drip. Although she doubted he would give up so easily, he was a tenacious chunren. He must've been one of those children who are told not to jump on the bed or not to touch something, but did it anyway.
Inara knew that her banishment had been announced in the cortex. She had even seen the first post in the society pages. She had been too famous, and it was the best ways for letting everybody of decent class know not to associate with her. Now she was notorious. Somewhere, Atherton Wing was laughing along with the meiyou muqin de xiao gou.
She shook her head in denial, "Robert, you're not well. You need to get help."
The pleading desperation suddenly vanished, replaced by the feverish maniacal gleam of weeks before. "I don't need help, Inara. I just need you to listen."
"There's nothing to say, Robert."
She could feel Mal's eyes on her, and she couldn't stand it, the silence. Inara cleared her throat, not moving from her position. "How has every body been?"
"They're just fine and peachy." Mal said abruptly. "Don't change the subject."
"You said to talk, you didn't specify." Inara answered dryly.
"Now you're being smart, that's my job."
"I know what your job is, Mal. I don't need to be reminded."
"Apparently you do, I asked you a question."
She kept her face turned away, pulling the blanket closer to her body. "I'm not part of your crew, Mal. I don't need to answer to you anymore. I never did."
Mal sat on a nearby stool, making clear that he wasn't leaving. "You know, Alliance justice isn't what it cracked up to be, ain't that right, Inara?"
"You're point being…?"
"They failed you, is what my point is. You know better than I do." he said.
He began to pace across the room, hurling accusations. "You've been seeing another man, is that it?"
"I'm a Companion, Robert. I don't have to answer that for you." Inara rationalized. "Please Robert, the time we spent together was wonderful, but it cannot last. I'm sure there is…"
"SHUT UP! Whore!" Robert shattered a priceless vase into pieces against the wall. "I paid for you…you belong to me."
She kept silent. So he had known all along. This should've bothered her, made the shame worse. But it didn't.
"We tried looking for you, after news hit the cortex. Kaylee insisted…but you had already disappeared." he admitted.
Inara turned, finally looked at him disbelieving, "For a lowly whore? Your nobility knows no bounds, Mal."
"Stop it." he demanded.
"But I was a whore, Mal? Isn't that what you said?"
"I didn't mean such, in that way, Inara. You know that." he finished, placing a hand over hers. Mal felt her pull away, but he didn't move it. He cleared his throat, thick with uncharacteristic emotion. "I thought you weren't gonna make it. Scared m…us. Why?"
"It was honorable, I lost my honor. Shamed myself, my House. I failed, Mal," Inara replied, she pulled her hand away. She held his gaze evenly, "Why did you come after me?"
She ran for the door and tried to push the button near the entry way. It was made for situations like these. Her hand barely grazed the red button on the wall panel, as a force slammed her up against the door. It rocked her to the floor, air left her and made it hurt to breathe. Inara attempted to draw in a breath, only to have it kicked out by Robert's booted foot. He grabbed her by the hair, lifting her face up to his.
"I'll kill any man you think of. Any man who touches you. Think soundly, this doesn't have to be this way, Inara."
Dignity and composure gone, Inara said the only thing her pride permitted her. Something she had learned on her travels. Something someone had taught her. She was no one's property. "Go to hell."
"The whole kicking me in my…parts, ring any bells to you. And I still can't think of the reason that was for." Mal gave her a wounded look. She couldn't help but laugh then, truly laugh, even though the action made her wound hurt.
"That's a smile, ain't it?" He caressed the side if her face. Inara flinched at the touch which did not go without notice. "Even with…scars, 'Nara you're still one of the most beautiful woman I know."
"You don't have to lie, Mal."
"I ain't lyin', and this whole honor business with your House and such - load of fei huia. You never needed them." Mal finished the last quietly. "I'll leave you now, Kaylee and the other's want to see you. Doc probably be tetchy for taking rest away from you. And we'll be leaving tomorrow. You're free to stay. You have a place here."
"I won't be much use to you now. My ambassador status doesn't exist anymore," Inara said.
"You're graceful woman, 'Nara, smart and that fancy education. Figure something will turn up. Unless you want to stay on Boros It's your choice. Which reminds me, Jayne and River been fighting over those paper toy models just in case you wonder where they went," Mal informed with dry grin. "By the way, you ever heard of a fellow named Monterrey? Robert Monterrey, I believe. Rich fellow, big vessel company?"
Inara kept her face free of expression, her voice controlled. "Yes. Why?"
"Huh. Last I heard the company went bankrupt after a couple thieves unloaded his family's account. Interesting, huh?" Mal wondered, dark eyes gleaming. "In the investigation afterwards, Feds found out the family had been embezzling money from the boys in grey. Whole lot was bound by law. Thought you might like to know."
Inara smiled lightly, closing her eyes once more, "Thank you." Not at all disturbed by the news even though she knew what he meant by it. Or knew who the thieves had been.
He slapped her, and Inara felt the sting of it keenly. "You brought this on yourself, remember that when no one will touch you. Remember that when your little whore priestesses don't want anything to do with you."
"You won't get away with this." Inara spat out angrily. "It doesn't work that way."
"It always has, Inara, baobei."
The following day, Serenity undocked and broke atmo. The liftoff jolted her from her drugged sleep. Simon had been checking on her in case of complications. The young man was kind, like he always been, careful not to make any callous remarks about the scars. He even told her of a friend he knew that could help her. She thanked him for the information and that she would think about it. Everybody had been welcoming, even Jayne, who asked if she could make him another spaceship model. River had broken his.
The scars in truth didn't bother her; Inara had learned to look beyond the outer beauty of a person. She had been trained to look for a client's inner beauty and hidden depths; it would be hypocritical to feel any differently about her own situation. She would be lying if she said she didn't care a little, because she did. Vanity was human nature and Inara, although in spirit a Companion, was not a demi-goddess as some regarded Companions. She was quite human.
Mal had come by earlier, wanting to know her decision. Kaylee had been with her at the time and she really hadn't needed to say her answer. It was unspoken between them. It was their way.
Meanwhile, the mechanic had cheerfully greeted her by hugging her so tightly that Inara lost her breath for a second. And for almost the third time in two years, tears had threatened to fall. But she had controlled herself, she couldn't help it—the training was too ingrained in her mind. Only time would tell, she was free now. Independent.
Light foot steps echoed in the hall way near the entrance of the med bay. Inara glanced up in the direction. River poked her head in the room, her hair combed neatly for a first time. "You're better, Simon says." The girl grinned at whatever inside joke she found funny. "Simon says it's polite to ask."
"Of course, River."
"Old Man Ling sent you a gift—came over to leave your cart. You were asleep." River said, took out a fortune cookie from her blue skirt pocket handing it to her. "He say it'll bring you luck, but luck doesn't exist. A good outcome depends on strategy and planning helped along by a good execution of course."
Inara thanked her, and thought fondly of the old man who reminded her of her grandfather. She opened the wrapping, the paper crinkling when it was peeled away. Breaking the cookie in half, she read a familiar script, "You simplify your life in many ways and find great rewards."
River peered at the paper then at the older woman. "Told you."
"What?" Inara asked, confused.
"She caught you, when you fell."
A Companion was serenity.
FIN