First Times

A/N: This story is dedicated to Hoban Washburne and Heath Ledger, both dead before their time. Rest in Peace.

Also, I apologize for what is quite probably a butchering of the Mandarin language. I've made at least some attempt to get it right by consulting a Mandarin-English dictionary, but in all probability, I've made a complete mockery of the nuances (and basic grammar) of the language. To any native Mandarin speakers in the audience, you have my profound regrets. I hope it doesn't destroy your enjoyment of the story.

This story has not been beta-read. All mistakes, either grammatical or in characterizations are my own.

Malcolm Reynolds stood at the helm of Aurora, closed his eyes, and breathed in the salt air. He loved sailing. It was his one true joy. There was really nothing in the 'verse like the smell of the air, the breath of the wind, the spray of the sea. It was freedom at its most basic.

He glanced up into the sky and spotted a circling albatross, guessing it was most likely searching for a school of fish. He was stunned a moment later when, instead of tucking in and diving toward the surf, the albatross began heading straight for Aurora. In fact, it was heading straight for her captain, for Mal. In less than a minute, it was close enough that he could make out the flecks of black on its wings and the reflection of the sun in its eyes. Just before it would have crashed into him, some instinct make Mal raise his arm, the one not guiding the boat, and the albatross lit gently on his arm and clicked its beak.

It was odd, but there was something eerily familiar about the bird. It was almost as if he'd met it before, which was impossible, of course. The sea air gusted for a moment, and a fleeting memory told Mal why the bird seemed familiar. I am a leaf on the wind...

Mal gulped. He was dreaming. He had to be. "Wash?"

The bird bobbed its head in agreement. "Wash," Mal whispered. In his shock, Mal released the helm, but the crew that might have cried out in dismay at such an action only a moment before was nowhere to be seen. Mal was alone with his former pilot on the open sea. "How?"

The albatross cocked his head, and Mal was sure that if Wash had been there in person he'd have been laughing. How do I know, Mal? Does everything have to have a li xing chun explanation?

Mal, not being subject to the constraints of avian anatomy, did laugh. He laughed deep and hard, and at great length. When he'd finally regained control of himself, he wiped a tear from the corner of his eye with his free hand and said, "Thanks, Wash. I think I needed that. It's good to see you, even if this is just a dream. It's nice to know you're okay."

It's good to see you too, Mal. Do me a favor? Mal nodded, unwilling to trust his voice. Tell Zoe that I love her, and I'm sorry I couldn't stick around to meet that baby. Can you do that for me?

"Sure thing, Wash," Mal croaked. "It'll be my pleasure."

With that, Wash disappeared in a flurry of wings, and it wasn't long before he vanished into the glare of the tropical sun. "Be well, Wash," Mal muttered. "Fly free."

A moment later, Mal drew in a sharp breath and sat up to find himself still in his bunk aboard Serenity. Had he dreamed that, or was it really Wash that had come to visit him? Mal snorted. 'Messages from the beyond. Book would have a field day with this...Book.' Mal sighed and shook his head. He'd lost far too many crew members recently. He'd never been prepared to go back to that, losing a quarter of his people in a single day and coming uncomfortably close to losing the rest.

After the war, he'd bought Serenity and tried not to look back. He'd run as high and as far as possible from the chaos left behind after the surrender of the Independents, but somehow everything still seemed to catch up to him.

He grunted and swung his legs out of his bunk. He knew from experience that he wouldn't be getting back to sleep in a hurry, so he dressed quickly and made his way back to the mess. Maybe a cup of tea would help, especially if he added a shot of Jayne's whiskey. The man drank so much recently he'd never notice, anyway.

Mal was nursing his third cup of tea, sans whiskey, sitting and turning things around in his mind, when the unique scent that was Inara Serra announced the unexpected arrival of the Companion. Mal had never wondered about her smell before, but it did strike him as odd that she could still be so carefully composed after the hectic flight from the training house and the horrific few days that had followed. He sighed. It was one more mystery from a woman who wrapped herself in it, and he knew he was unlikely to get an answer.

A minute later, Inara settled herself into the chair at the far end of the table with her own cup of tea in her hand. He looked up and met her expressive brown eyes, but he couldn't hold her gaze. She always seemed to look right through him, and he was damned if he was going to let her get to him so easily that night.

"You're up late." Inara spoke first. She always did.

"So are you."

They lapsed into an awkward silence. It was always that way. Something had passed between them the day they left Mr. Universe's moon, but they had acknowledged it only obliquely, and this strangeness had followed. It was like the awkwardness that followed sex with a very good friend but without any of the misplaced affection. 'Strange.'

Somehow, Mal found himself speaking without making any conscious decision to do so. "I had a dream. About Wash."

"Oh?"

Mal nodded. "It was the damnedest thing. I was sailing a boat. A real, honest-to-god boat with sails and a rudder, and Wash was an albatross. Strange how I've been talking about them so much the last few weeks, and then Wash shows up as one in my dreams."

"Are you sure it was Wash and not you, Mal?"

Mal looked up at Inara, puzzled. "What do you mean? I was sailing the boat, 'nara."

Inara giggled. It was a unusual sound to hear from the worldly, sophisticated Companion, and Mal took notice. Somehow, she was more attractive in that instant than she'd ever been before. It took him a moment, but he finally realized why. All her shields were down. She was completely open.

"I mean, are you sure it wasn't your mind putting him there? Are you sure it wasn't just a dream, Mal?"

Mal shook his head. "No. How could I be? He gave me a message for Zoe, though. Guess I won't know for sure until I can talk to her."

Inara looked at him sharply. "Are you sure that's a good idea, Mal?"

"No." She didn't look satisfied, and he sighed and continued, "But it's the only way to be sure. If it really was Wash, I owe him that much. And if it wasn't him, well, telling Zoe that Wash said he loved her ain't going to do her no hurt."

"And are you certain of that, Mal?"

"Yes, that I'm certain of. Zoe's strong. Too strong, really. She's trying to forget, but she ain't done grieving yet. Thing like that eats away at a person, if they let it."

Inara nodded silently and fixed Mal with a look he couldn't identify. "You're a wise man, Malcolm Reynolds. How is it that I've never noticed?"

Mal glanced down at his tea. "Didn't want to, I suspect."

Inara gave him a small smile, accepting his small jibe in the spirit of longtime friends, even if they weren't. Their shared experiences meant she owed him that much. "True enough."

Mal looked at Inara carefully, weighing his options. He could feel that they'd reached some sort of tipping point, and he doubted he'd get a better opportunity to ask a question that had always bothered him. "Inara, could I ask you a personal question?"

She stiffened instantly. "Mal, if this is about my Companioning--"

"No. It's not. Leastways, I hope it isn't." She nodded and relaxed slightly, but still looked wary. "I've always sort of wanted to ask you about your first time."

Inara arched an elegant eyebrow. "My first time for what, Malcolm?"

Mal looked at her incredulously. He'd never met someone who could manage to misunderstand that question before. "I mean the first time you had sex."

Inara looked slightly incredulous, presumably at Mal's daring, but the intimacy of their late-night conversation and the comfort of shared grief put her worries to rest. "It was with another trainee. It was something we had to take care of before we were allowed to start entertaining clients. There was a...device involved. Is that really what you wanted to hear?"

Mal's features contorted a bit, and he shook his head. "Not really, no."

Inara bristled. "Well if you're just going to sit there and disapprove--"

"No!" He took a deep breath to compose himself. "Sorry. I mean, no, it's not that I disapprove. It's just a little sad, is all."

Inara did not appear to be convinced. In fact, she still seemed quite angry, come to that. "Sad?"

"Yeah. You make it sound so clinical. So cold, and it makes me sad."

Inara huffed. "Well it shouldn't. I had the rather unique opportunity to thoroughly enjoy myself my first time. I understand that's something few get to experience."

Mal couldn't argue that point. Physically speaking, his own first time had been rather disappointing as well, and he imagined it was even less thrilling for his girlfriend. "Suppose I can't argue with that." Inara looked smug for a moment, but he continued, "But that wasn't really the point. Everyone I've ever talked to has either loved their first time, physical satisfaction notwithstanding, or been traumatized by it. Losing your virginity should be a life-altering event. You sound like you're remembering an interesting lesson."

Inara nodded, in turn unable to argue the point. "I suppose you're right about that. Companions are taught from the very beginning to limit the value we place on sex, to enjoy the act but not get caught up in it. It's what we have to do to get by, but I suppose it might seem...strange, to an outsider."

"Is that still what I am, an outsider?"

"In many ways, Mal, I don't think you've ever belonged anywhere you've gone. Am I wrong?"

Mal shook his head. "You're not."

Inara appeared to consider that admission. "Tell me about your first time, Mal. Tell me how you think it was supposed to have been."

Mal's face relaxed and a bright smile lit up his face as he recalled the last years of his childhood, a simple time, when girls and chores and curfew were his greatest worries. "I was fifteen. She was a girl from the next farm over, a little younger than me. Her name was Sathira, and she had the brightest, most beautiful red hair you can imagine. I used to like to play with it when we were alone together." He paused for a moment to gather his thoughts.

"We dated for over a year before it happened. There was never much to do, so far out in the country. We'd saddle up my dad's horses and go for rides, or hide back behind the barn, kissing and talking, or just lie in a field somewhere and watch the clouds go by. I remember one day, there was a big snowfall and nothing to do, and we stole a few sheets of unused wooden siding from her parents' barn and went sledding on them." Mal smiled brightly, caught up in memory, and Inara smiled sadly right along with him. His smile met his eyes so rarely, but when he talked about this Sathira, all his barriers went down. For the first time, Inara got a glimpse of what Mal might be like if he really allowed himself to fall in love, and she knew in that moment that she couldn't go back to the training house. It would do a disservice to the girls and to herself.

Mal didn't notice any of the thoughts flashing through Inara's mind. He was too caught up in his own memory. "We got caught by a thunderstorm, one day in early summer. We were already soaked through by the time we made it to the barn, and it was still almost a mile up to the house. We climbed up to the hayloft to keep warm, and we both stripped off our wet clothes without even thinking about it. It was so...guileless, it left me spinning. I'd never seen her naked before, or even with her shirt off. I was stunned. I don't think either of us really planned for it to happen, but we wound up making love right there in the hay.

"It was over pretty quickly, and I don't think either of us enjoyed it overmuch, but after, we held each other until we fell asleep in the hay. We made love every chance we got that summer. It was the last time I was ever really at peace.

"I turned sixteen the next fall, and my Pa shipped me off to join the army. I guess her daddy heard I was leaving', cause he brought her over to say goodbye. Soon as we saw each other, she ran into my arms and starting crying into my shirt, and I couldn't do nothing but hold her and stroke her hair. I don't know how long we stood there like that. Could've been five minutes or it could've been hours. Moments like that, time gets funny. Finally her daddy put his hand on her shoulder and told her it was time for me to go.

"He just looked me in the eye and nodded. I ain't never seen a man so understanding with his daughter's boyfriend. He musta known we were in love. She looked up, and kissed me, and I said goodbye and walked on down the lane. Couldn't bring myself to look back. Ain't seen or heard tell of her since."

Inara sniffed, and Mal was amazed to see her wipe a single tear from her eye. "That was beautiful, Mal. Why haven't I ever seen this side of you before?"

Mal's eyes closed off, and the moment was lost. "Most of my memories ain't nearly so pleasant, Inara. This one's a little sad at the end, granted, but the old war stories, even the funny ones, most of the folk in 'em are either dead or lost at the bottom of a bottle. You remember the old stories Zoe and I were telling after Tracey mailed himself to us. Only ones left from those stories now are me and Zoe. Ain't no call to be sharing things like that with a refined woman like you." Mal stood and walked over to the sink, his back to the table and his tea forgotten.

Inara ghosted over to stand behind him with barely a sound for even Mal's sensitive ears to detect. She placed a hand on his shoulder and said softly, "You've got to share them with someone, Mal. They'll eat you alive if you don't."

Mal recognized his own words being repeated back to him. He wanted to agree. He wanted to unburden himself to this wonderful woman who was finally letting him in, but he didn't have the heart. He was just so tired, and he still needed to tell Zoe that her husband had come to visit him in a dream.

"Not tonight, Inara. It's late, and you should be getting back to bed."

She didn't answer. She didn't argue or plead with him. She'd known him far too long to think it would do any good. She simply left without a whisper, leaving Mal alone with his demons.