DISCLAIMER: Have you seen a second season? That's how you know it's not mine. :)
SUMMARY: PG. ((Today she's calmly preparing her first pot of tea since she came back to Serenity one moment, humming under her breath; and the next Mal is standing behind her.)) - Post BDM.
WORDCOUNT: 1500
FEEDBACK: I'd love to hear your comments.
A.N.: This is the drabble that ate too much spinach. Originally meant for firefly100 (prompt: fair), but they just wouldn't stop talking.
TEA CEREMONY
by Leni
Inara knows it is Mal behind her. It has been him for two minutes now, and soon the water will have brewed and her excuse not to turn around will be gone.
She wishes there was someone else in the room, anyone. But Zoë's been keeping to her room, Simon and Kaylee live in their own world where mealtimes are only a passing thought, and River must be happily sitting in the pilot chair, taking in the view of the endless universe before her and forgetting something as trivial as her appetite. Even Jayne would be a welcome presence, Inara thinks, not with a little disbelief. But the man who used to dally around the kitchen area hoping for an extra serving, had barely grunted at her before loading his plate and taking it back to his bunk.
Gone are the days of joyful gatherings around the table, and as confident as Inara feels about their eventual return, it won't happen today.
Today she's calmly preparing her first pot of tea since she came back to Serenity one moment, humming under her breath; and the next Mal is standing behind her.
She can't remember the song anymore.
A chair scrapes against the floor and Inara knows Mal is sitting down, facing her. He means to talk to her, then. What about? In the race to Miranda and back, in the aftermath of the unveiled secret and the necessary burial ceremonies, Inara hadn't found the time to weigh in their many decisions. All those words they hadn't said, from the moment he entered her room in Sihnon to the moment she announced she'd stay this time.
The kettle whistles.
She takes a handful of herbs. Watches as they sink into the water and come to the surface again.
The familiar ritual becomes a distraction. Mal is looking at her, following her movements. Inara knows. That doesn't bother her, it never did. It's his silence, it's the fact that she won't turn and see his expression... Will he bait her? Thank her? Test her in those ways he'll never even realize he's doing it? She's good at reading Mal's moods; Companions are taught to unravel those secrets.
Not now, though. Inara knows enough not to be a Companion now, not with this silence around them.
Still, she wishes he would speak first, set the pace of this conversation. She's too used to following someone else's lead, maybe, but it's been months since she felt Mal's attention focus on her... This silence is new. Too new.
Inara just wishes for a little help. Yes. One hint. What does he need from her? What does he expect? Should she ready herself to be angry, or conversational, or maybe compassionate? He's never lost someone important, not on Serenity. He's also attuned to Zoë's sorrow, in that wordless way they share everything else. Inara knows that, knows the grief that's been tossed among them, that Mal himself cannot escape. She knows the options deriving from it.
She reaches for an empty cup, considers those options while she tips the kettle.
He may be looking for a soothing hand, an absolution the others don't know he needs. Inara can remind him that it had always been their choice, to remain loyal to him, to go where he lead them. She can forgive him for being that kind of man, the kind others will follow into their own doom.
He may be looking for an escape. Where the others are scattered around the ship, Mal always knows where to find her. He may want a simple chat, an everyday exchange that'll push Wash and the Shepherd's deaths away.
Or he may be looking for someone to lash out on. Because grief needs an outlet, and Inara is the only one who can take it. The only one who won't blame him for it afterwards.
"Pour me some?"
The simplicity of his request startles her. The slight difference in his address. The fact that he'd once balked at the idea of having tea with her.
"'Nara? You heard me?"
Finally, she is forced to turn around. Mal is looking at her curiously, head tilted as if about to smile at her reaction. "Of course," she replies, recovering. She fills a second cup absently, shaken by an abrupt revelation: he isn't expecting anything from her. He didn't mean to find her, even.
But he still stood silently at the doorway for the longest time before he decided to sit down. There are dozens of ways to read that, none of them matches Inara's conception of Mal and the interaction between him and her.
It's been months, though. Anything could have changed, because simple physics dictate that the universe can't remain static, and simple observation has long determined that Mal's private universe changes even more.
What will be different this time?
She sets his cup on the table. Hundreds of hours at the Training House have taught her to put it directly into a man's waiting hand, fingers brushing fingers and both smiling at the knowledge of what lay after the ceremony.
This is no ceremony. There's no knowledge beyond this moment. Mal certainly doesn't like to wait - not for anything.
He takes the handle between thumb and pointing finger, looks amused. "I know this didn't come from my shelves. You carried a whole tea set along with that mighty bow of yours?"
The tiny, finely decorated porcelain cup seems incongruous in this kitchen, Inara notices that now. "I gave them to Kaylee, before I left."
"Better get them back, before she and Simon go through every breakable in her bunk." Inara raises an eyebrow; but he lifts a corner of his mouth and shakes his head in rueful amusement. "Crazy kids."
She laughs. Not at the idea that her china is in danger of succumbing under the new lovers' enthusiasm, but at the fact that Mal seems amused by it. "I did miss a lot," she comments. "I'm sorry I missed the moment you started thinking Simon was good enough for Kaylee."
It was the wrong thing to say. His expression darkened, and any other man wearing it would have answered with an 'I'm sorry, too'. He's never accused her for abandoning them, but Inara knows the words are there, together with so many others they'll never mention. Instead he shrugs, "Who said I had a choice at all? That mechanic of mine is as stubborn as they come."
Inara smiles back. Is this that 'simple chat' in her list of options? It sounds like it, and yet -
"You did miss a lot," he says quietly, looking into the tea.
- and yet, she knows better. He may not have set out to seek her, but now that he's found her... She can't help but wonder again, what will be different this time?
"We never thought to buy tea." Mal suddenly chuckles, raising his cup in a gesture more fitting to a beer glass. "Didn't make sense, with our fairest Companion gone."
Inara takes a short sip. Is it a round-about way to say he missed her?
No, he's more straightforward than that.
Or maybe. She knows his behavior alters around her, as much as hers does around him. And this time something is different - she just needs some time to discover what, to get used to it...
But really - right now, - does it matter?
"I noticed." She decides to sidestep the matter, and is relieved that it's still easy. Apparently not even months in Sihnon can make her forget how to sidestep Malcolm Reynolds. "What little I found was so dry, I'm surprised it tastes decently."
He frowns, takes a small trial sip that threatens to empty the small cup, and shrugs. "Tea is tea," is his conclusion, obviously unable to find the difference.
"Barely decent tea, in this case." Inara almost smiles at his scowl. He'll always be on the defensive, even about the tiniest details on Serenity. "Don't worry. I'll make sure we always have a fresh batch from now on."
The cup freezes on its way to his lips. Their eyes meet for a second, then two. Is she saying that she won't leave this time?
Inara counts to six before he speaks again.
"Shiny," Mal says and completes the aborted motion. But, over the porcelain rim, his eyes are still locked with hers.
Inara wants to sigh. She will fight if he baits her; bicker, argue, discuss... all those things they are good at. She will console him if he needs it; a hand over his, arms holding him close, they both in her bed if that's what it takes. She will be a friend if only he asks; a real friend, not his partner in this game where the rules keep shifting.
She will do any of it because that's who she is. Because no one knows what a man needs like a Companion, and that's what they are: a man and a Companion.
But, just her luck, Mal is the only man in her memory who's never wanted personal favors from a Companion. Will you stay? he is asking her. Mal may not say a word, not now or ever, but Inara is good at reading his moods. Too good. Will you?
No.
Maybe...
"Mal." She didn't mean to break the silence, because once broken nothing can be repaired. Nothing. "Don't, please."
...Does it matter?
The End
19/03/08