Bandiagara, Part 1b

Mal and Inara have an uncomfortable conversation.

"Mal, I have a confession to make," Inara said. She was sitting cross-legged on the edge of Mal's bed, and he stood on the floor behind her, busy with his hands. Best get this over with, while she couldn't see his face.

"Mmmm?" he queried, pausing briefly in his task. He resumed running the comb and his fingers through Inara's silky tresses, mesmerized by how they rippled through his hands and fell caressingly on her bare shoulders. He bent over, dropping kisses on the back of her neck, then whispered in her ear, "What d'you want to confess, darlin'?"

"I confess, Mal—that I—stole the hot water."

"You?" He straightened up. "You stole the water?"

"Yes. I did."

"Now whatever did you do that for?"

"I—gave Kaylee a bath. I filled the tub." She turned and looked at him seriously. "It was selfish. I never considered that I was condemning the rest of you to cold showers."

"You were very wrong to do that."

She nodded, turning back. "Yes, I was."

"You will have to pay for it."

"I know."

"You're very lucky the cold water did not permanently damage my manliness."

"Your manliness!" she exclaimed, turning to face him. "Your manliness," she repeated in a different tone altogether, looking at what confronted her at eye level.

"You'll pay for this, Inara Serra," he growled.

"Oh, yes, I'll pay," she agreed, with a wicked glint in her eye.

. . .

"Your wife?"

"We're not married. We're courting."

"But you do intend to marry her?"

"Nothing would please me better."

"So, were you serious?" Inara asked Mal. They were lying naked side by side in a comfortable afterglow.

"Yes." He rolled over and pinned her to the mattress with his elbows, with a gleam in his eye.

"Really?" she asked, her color rising.

"I meant it."

Her heart began to beat faster.

"I was absolutely serious about you havin' to pay for stealing the hot water," he said with a smirk. "Why do you ask? Do you feel you ain't paid enough yet?" He ducked his head down and made to recommence collecting payment.

"Were you serious about what you said to Juju Kamara?"

He rolled off her and lay next to her, looking away at the ceiling. He had a pretty good idea what she meant, but he wasn't ready to admit it. Felt like he was handling high explosives. One wrong word and it'd blow up in his face. "Said lots of things to Juju Kamara."

"But not all of them so personal."

"Yeah, well, got to feeling a bit truthsome," he said. Might as well admit to that. "She reminded me some of my ma. Never could lie to my ma."

"You were being truthful, then?"

"Everything I said about finding Serenity is true," Mal replied. "The prison camp, the beatings, the living in the slums, the credit account, then seein' her for the first time and knowin' I belonged with her."

Inara was silent for a moment. That was not what she meant, and he knew it, but still he had slipped something to ponder into the mix. The beatings? He hadn't mentioned beatings to Juju Kamara. Had he been beaten at the Alliance prison? She mentally shook herself. Back to the subject.

"Was it true what you said about marriage?" Nothing would please me better.

He could not pretend he didn't know what she was talking about. "Inara, it's what she expected to hear. Told you she reminded me of my ma. She's from a traditional culture. Don't hold with—what you—what I—what we're doin' if we don't intend to marry. Couldn't have given no other answer."

Inara looked away, dissatisfied. Couldn't give another answer? Wouldn't give another answer? Didn't want to give another answer? She'd thought, maybe, just maybe, he was ready to have this talk. She concealed her feelings on the subject. But there was still another topic that needed airing.

"What about you, Captain? How many children do you want?"

"Oh, four. Maybe five."

"What about children?" she asked.

"Juju's children?" he replied, deliberately misunderstanding.

"You told Kaylee and everyone else that you wanted five children."

"Just flapping my mouth." He sighed inwardly, careful not to let it show. She remembered it all, and now he was getting grilled. He'd just opened his mouth without thinking. Oh, four. Maybe five. 白痴 Báichī. Never heard tell of a Companion with children. 'Course I ain't gonna have no four or five. Count myself lucky to have even a one. Even his hasty amendment didn't help much. Still showed his heart on his sleeve, made himself vulnerable to hurt. He tried side-tracking. "Got carried away by Kaylee's enthusiasm. Remember the look on Simon's face when she said she wanted six kids?" He sure remembered the look on Inara's face. Not exactly unqualified delight. Inscrutable, it was. Kinda like how she looked now. He tried more diversion. "And how Jayne said he wasn't never gonna have a kid, and not three days later, Janice shows up claiming he was the father of her child?"

"How about you?"

"How about me what?"

"Any Janices in your past? Any chance you're a father and you don't know it?"

"No," he answered with certainty. He remembered every woman he'd ever lain with—weren't that many, truth to tell, so he wasn't like to forget any—and they were all either dead or (with a glance at Inara) presently accounted for. No surprise children for him. "But I'm going to be a father for sure."

Inara stretched her eyes wide. "For sure?" Tension coiled deep within her. Was there something he hadn't told her?

He hastened to explain. "Zoe ain't said anything, and she probably won't, but I reckon whether she knows it or not, she's expecting me to stand-in for father to her child. Even if she don't expect it, I'm like to be the closest thing to a father that child will ever know, 'less Zoe decides to marry again."

Was that what was behind his foolish grin when Zoe announced her pregnancy to Serenity? Inara wondered. The knowledge that he was going to be a father, sort of—and his feeling like a proud papa, sort of? "And how are you feeling about your imminent fatherhood?" she asked, lightly. Or as lightly as she could manage.

"Oh, I got past denial, I'm still kinda in shock," he said with a smile, taking her banter at face value. "I reckon full-blown panic will hit me sometime soon." He rolled over and propped himself up on an elbow. Enough with the uncomfortable questions all headed his direction. This could go both ways. "What about you?"

"Oh, I don't think I'll be in a state of panic about Zoe's baby. Though I'll be glad to help her out."

"No, I meant, you never gave an answer to Kaylee's question. About how many children you want."

She was silent, and didn't look at him.

He was determined not to let her off the hook, but he thought maybe he could ease the way, so he asked, "Do Companions ever have children?"

"Sometimes," she answered. "Sometimes they retire, marry, and have children."

His heart beat faster. Careful not to let his flutter of hope show, he waited for her to elaborate.

"That's what my own mother did," she continued. "After several decades as a successful Companion, she selected a husband from among her chosen field of candidates, retired, and married him. I was born a year and a half later."

He was privately appalled, and tried hard not to let it show. Several decades as a Companion? And she selected a candidate? It all sounded so…calculated. Where was the falling in love part? "Didn't she love your father?"

"She was fond of him," Inara said simply. "They worked well together."

Alright, maybe that was how the Core folks did it. Too damn cold-blooded for him. "You ever thought about retiring?" The question slipped out before he could think.

"I…no," she answered from a far away place. "I…always thought I'd…die before I retired."

It was a heart-wound. He collapsed back on the bed, exhaling suddenly. Damn. Damn, damn, damn. Shouldn't have asked. Knew he wouldn't like the answer.

"Mal?" she asked, in sudden concern. "Mal, no—情人 qíngrén no—that's not what I meant. Before I—before we—亲爱的 qīn'àide Mal, I never thought about retiring before I met you."

He was able to breathe again. Alright, least she was thinking of it. Maybe his ship weren't sunk after all. "And now you are—thinking of it?" he asked softly, looking in her eyes, willing her to speak the truth.

She said nothing, but returned his look. He thought she gave a barely perceptible nod.

Relief flooded him. He dared not press his luck any farther. Time to retreat from the explosive topics. Enough with the uncomfortables. Enough grilling. With a great effort, he made his tone lighter. "You know, you once wished me hundreds of fat children."

"I—did." It was almost a question.

"You certainly did. So, if I'm goin' for hundreds, better start practicing—right now." He suddenly rolled back on top of her and kissed her lips, his hands caressing her in the way he now knew she liked to be touched. She responded by pulling him in for a deeper kiss, as she ran her hands through his soft hair and down the sculpted contours of his back.

It was only much later that he realized that she had never really answered the question.

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glossary

白痴 Báichī [Idiocy]

情人 qíngrén [lover]

亲爱的 qīn'àide [dear]

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