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Chapter 10
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By the time they'd assembled in the small cemetery behind the estate, it was misting lightly. Inara's curls were damp and heavy as the water soaked into them. It was cold too, colder than she ever remembered it being on Sihnon and so she reached for Mal's hand, soaking up the warmth from his palm as he wrapped his fingers around hers and tugged her gently into his side. Inara went easily, resting her head against his shoulder as the minister said his words.
Marina and her husband and their two children were there – Raquel and a little boy, probably no more than three. Laura and her husband were there as well, their small son, Charles, absent due to his age. Colin stood on Inara's other side, his hands clasped firmly in front of him. She risked a few glances to him occasionally, noting the tautness of his features and knowing he was trying not to cry.
The rest of the crew had come as well. River stood beside Jayne while Kaylee stood next to Simon, leaning heavily against him. Shelby had arrived as well, along with other family friends Inara recognized. She had greeted them as politely as possible, standing in a receiving line with her siblings, not missing the disdainful looks Marina and Laura threw her way every time someone welcomed her back to Sihnon.
The service wasn't long which was good; as the sun sank below the horizon, the rain picked up and the wind blew stronger causing everyone to shiver a bit. The servants had prepared an incredible dinner and as Vivi's casket was lowered into the ground the mourners quietly dispersed. Inara watched them go, hugging Kaylee and River tightly to her before ushering them inside, smiling softly to both Jayne and Simon as they offered their condolences. Colin tried to get her to follow him inside, but she couldn't do it, not yet. And so he left without her, giving Mal a nod that the other man understood perfectly; it said, take care of her, and Mal had every intention of doing just that.
He watched her carefully as she moved towards Vivi's open grave and threw a rose onto the casket. He watched as she knelt next to the pile of displaced dirt and sunk her hand into its wetness. Straightening, Inara opened her hand again and let the clumps of wet ground fall into the opening as well, watching with unfocused eyes as it slid away.
Once again empty the now dirty hand fell back to Inara's side and she stood there, staring at nothing. Mal kept his distance, guessing that Inara would let him know when she needed him, but as the minutes passed and he watched her lips turn blue from the cold, he decided enough was enough.
Removing his brown coat, he placed the heavy material around her shoulders and hugged her to him. Kissing her temple, he whispered, "Let's go inside, bao bei." When her only response was a heavy sigh, he added, "There's nothin' more you can do here."
Shaking her head once, Inara blinked back a few tears and tilted her chin up to meet his concerned gaze. Pushing a few wet strands of hair off her cheeks, Mal smiled softly, pressing a kiss to her lips. Waiting until they had parted, Inara whispered, "There is something else I need to do."
Stepping away from his warmth and his comfort reluctantly, Inara picked up another rose from the pile at the side of Vivi's grave. Clutching the stem tightly in her fisted hand and ignoring the sting as thorns broke the skin, she walked around Mal to the far side of the small plot and knelt before a tiny rectangular plaque in the ground. Reverently, Inara ran her fingers across it, pushing the grass back that was threatening to hide it from view before gently laying the rose upon it.
Mal followed her, squinting in the dim light of the garden lamps to make out the writing on this grave marker. He could only make out the initials A.L. and while it meant nothing to him, he could tell by the way Inara's shoulders shook it meant the world to her.
Gently gripping her around the shoulders, he pulled her back to her feet and hugged her to his chest. She was visibly shaking now but whether it was from the cold or grief or both, Mal wasn't certain. Trying to take her back inside, Inara shook her head and stopped, resting a hand to his chest. Meeting his curious gaze, she asked softly, "Why haven't you asked me?"
His brow furrowing with confusion, Mal whispered, "Asked ya what?"
"About what Marina said yesterday," she elaborated, standing as close to him as she could and basking in his warmth.
Shrugging lightly, Mal took the hand she'd rested over his heart and kissed it gently before taking the other and noticing the blood that dotted the surface of her palm. "Ai ya, 'Nara, you're hurt," he exclaimed, reaching into his pocket and producing a handkerchief. Pressing it into her palm, he said firmly, "We're goin' in now, darlin'. You can fight me on it all ya want, but I will carry ya if need be."
Nodding once, she didn't fight him this time as he led her inside. Grateful for the warmth the house provided, Mal glanced into the drawing room where only a few of the mourners were still gathered, his crew among them. Etiquette dictating that she mingle with them, Inara moved towards the room on instinct and Mal stayed close. He watched her as she moved about in a slight haze. She smiled when appropriate, nodded and commented occasionally as a few people engaged her in conversation, but Mal could see through the ruse. He could see her broken heart, could see the heaviness that permeated her bones as the weight of her grief finally sunk in. And it made him want to whisk her from the room, wrap her in his arms and never let go.
An hour later, he was able to do just that. The last of the visitors left, the crew spending the night in the house as Colin and Inara had both offered and Laura and Marina for once had not objected too heartily. Simon asked Inara if she wanted a smoother to help her sleep, but with a kind smile she told him no and bid her friends good night before allowing Mal to lead her back to her room.
In silence he guided her to the bed and cleaned the small cuts on her palm from where she had gripped the flower too tight. She did not look at him as he worked, her big brown eyes still devoid of much in the way of recognition or understanding. However, she kept shivering, her hair still damp from the rain and Mal knew she'd catch her death if he didn't do something.
Lighting first a fire in the room's hearth, he moved quickly from the room and grabbed a few things of his own from across the hall. Heading back inside, he was surprised to find Inara sitting on the floor before the fire, the blanket from the bed wrapped around her shoulders firmly. Her gaze lost in the flames, Mal took time to grab a towel to dry her hair and her pajamas from the bed.
Sitting beside her, he said softly, "C'mon, 'Nara, we gotta get ya outta that wet dress."
Not looking at him, she murmured, "I'm so cold."
Rubbing her upper arms with his hands to generate a bit of heat, he told her, "I know, bao bei, that's why you gotta change."
Glancing to the thin silk nightgown he offered her, she said, "That'll make it worse."
Mal was in total agreement with that statement, but he wasn't too sure what other options they had. An idea dawning, one he had, in truth, thought on before, Mal went back to his bag and grabbed one of his shirts. Returning to her side, he held it before her. "This better?"
Looking to the worn and faded blue fabric and then back to Mal, he saw gratitude and acceptance shining in her eyes. Nodding once, she shrugged out of the blanket and slowly moved to unbutton her dress. Mal left the shirt beside her and turned away, wanting to give her privacy. Of course, he really wanted to watch her too, his desire for her not at all cooled, but he wasn't an animal. While Mal knew that one day, hopefully soon, he and Inara would cross that final divide between them and sleep together, he also knew it wouldn't be tonight. And that was just fine, he wanted to help her and if that meant holding her and keeping her warm and safe, than that's what he'd do.
Inara slid Mal's shirt over her shoulders. The fabric was so soft, so comforting that she immediately felt her face flush with the familiarity of the garment. Burying her nose in the collar she inhaled deeply and smelled Mal. With a sigh, she told him, "I'm done."
Turning back to her, Mal moved to towel off her hair a bit. Pressing a kiss to her temple, he whispered, "Ready for bed?"
Murmuring a yes, Mal smiled softly before lifting her easily into his arms and carrying her to the soft mattress just a few feet away. As he tucked her in, Inara reached for his hand. "You're not going to leave, are you?"
Shaking his head, he said quietly, "Not unless you want me too."
She squeezed his hand by way of an answer and Mal smiled at her softly before rounding the bed. Kicking off his boots and socks, he pulled off his shirt and trousers, leaving on only his boxers before sliding in beside her. Inara rolled against him immediately, her body's supple curves molding perfectly against him.
Mal held her close, listening to her breathing, waiting for it to even out so he'd know she was asleep. But as the rain outside pelted against the windows and the distant rumble of thunder echoed through the room, Inara's breathing became more ragged. Clutching at his shoulder, she tried to burrow into his side and Mal soothed her with a gentle hand through her hair.
"It's jus' a storm, darlin'," he whispered, feeling another violent tremble shake her. "It'll pass soon 'nough."
"She wasn't my mother." Inara blurted the statement out. She felt so vulnerable in this moment, her heart broken by grief, her body trembling from a storm that she should have long ago learned not to fear, the words came unbidden to her lips.
Mal felt curiosity biting at his mind, but he tried to force it down. "Shenme?" he whispered against her forehead, trying to understand.
With a heavy sigh, Inara did not turn to look at him, but instead kept her head resting on his shoulder, her hand making lazy circles along his chest. "Vivi wasn't my mother," she admitted, letting out another sigh. "What Marina said yesterday was true. I am a bastard child."
"I don't rightly believe that," Mal murmured. When she remained quiet, he asked, "You wanna talk about it?"
"The small grave marker outside," she said without preamble. "That's the marker for my biological mother's grave. She died during child birth."
With another sigh, this one of understanding and sympathy, Mal kissed her forehead and murmured, "I'm sorry, 'Nara."
"I never knew her. I only know what Vivi told me about her. I only know that my father slept with her once and it nearly ruined his marriage." Inara found memories springing to mind as she retold the tale; whispered arguments between Vivi and her father, furtive glances between the servants, angry glares from Marina and Laura. "That's why my sisters hate me. They blame me for our parents' unhappiness."
"You din't have nothin' to do with that," Mal reminded her. He guessed that she had probably figured this all out for herself a long time ago, but given the circumstances, he figured she could probably stand to hear it again. "You was jus' an innocent lil' baby."
"Tell that to Marina," she muttered bitterly. Sighing, Inara murmured, "It shouldn't matter, not anymore, but it does." Pausing, she added as an afterthought, "It matters to the Guild."
"Shenme?"
Lifting her head from his chest, Inara finally met Mal's eyes. They shone almost purple when mixed from the light of the fire and she smiled softly to him, touched by his care for her and the concern she felt radiating off of him. Her fingertips resting against his chin, she murmured, "I've told you everything else. I guess I might as well tell you this too."
Closing her eyes for a moment, when Inara reopened them they were still full of her immense sadness, but also resignation. "The reason I left Sihnon and sought out passage on Serenity is because of my lineage." As Mal's confused expression didn't change, she elaborated, "Shelby, who is now the high priestess was, is, very competitive. I guess we were rivals, although I never saw it that way." Shaking her head once to clear the tangent, she continued. "Somehow, she found out that I was born out of wedlock and she threatened to tell the Guild if I didn't leave Sihnon and withdraw my name from the running for high priestess."
Propping himself up on his elbows, Mal was still trying to puzzle it out. "I don't get it. What's the Guild care who your folks are?"
"Being a Companion isn't for everyone, Mal, literally. The Guild has very strict rules about lineage and parentage that have to be fulfilled in order to even be considered for admittance." Shrugging lightly, Inara rolled onto her back and studied the ceiling. "When Shelby confronted me, I knew I couldn't fight her. Father was dead by then, but the disgrace it would have brought to Vivi and Colin." Resting a hand against her eyes, she murmured, "I couldn't do that to them. It wouldn't have been fair."
"So you left," Mal commented, rolling onto his side and propping his head on his bent arm.
Nodding once, Inara took a deep breath and then turned to look at him. With a weak smile, she said, "Well, there you have it. All the sordid details of my colorful past." Glancing over his shoulder towards the door, she muttered, "If you want to run, now's your chance."
Leaning over her, Mal captured her mouth in a kiss, a light one that brought their lips together and not much else. Holding the touch for seconds, when Mal pulled away, he whispered, "I dun' told ya, 'Nara. I'm through runnin' from you. All that go se don't mean anythin'. All that matters to me is that I love you."
Inara's breath hitched in her throat as she read the sincerity and compassion in his eyes, as she heard the caring tone of his voice, as she felt his gentle touch against her forehead. Rolling over to face him, Mal dropped his head down to the pillow so they were level with each other and stared at Inara as she stared at him.
Drawing her face closer to his, Inara paused just as their lips were about to meet and breathed, "I love you too, Mal. I have for so long." And then she crossed that imperceptible distance between them and kissed him.
It was a long kiss, full of pent-up emotions and desires. Inara's hands easily found their way around his neck as Mal's worked up her back and fisted into her hair. They kept kissing, tongues and mouths meeting until they were forced to part for air and then they would kiss again. Mal gently rolled Inara onto her back, pressing her into the mattress as he had before, his hands exploring her soft and smooth skin.
Leaning away, he gazed into her beautiful and shining eyes, noting the way his shirt hung down off one shoulder. Her hair splayed about the pillow like a fan and the small pants of longing that puffed past her lips were all manner of sexy. Bringing his lips to her neck and sucking the flesh there, he murmured, "You look mighty fine in that shirt o' mine, darlin'."
Giggling softly, Inara's fingers twirled the hair at the base of his scalp as she told him, "Good, because you're not getting it back."
Mal chuckled back and Inara felt desire pool between her legs as the deep-throated sound vibrated against her skin. Pulling him more tightly against her, Inara brought her lips to his ear and whispered, "Mal, I want you."
He paused, wishing that her breathy whisper hadn't just caused him to stiffen like a board. Trailing a few small kisses up her neck and to her mouth, he told her softly, "Not t'night, 'Nara. It ain't right."
Holding his face in her hands, she said quietly, "Mal, I want to celebrate life, my new life with you." Kissing him softly, she whispered against his mouth, "Make love to me, Mal."
Groaning, Mal knew he would lose this battle and he guessed that he would not care. Using the last shred of self-restraint he possessed, he looked down at her and asked, "You ain't gonna hate me in the mornin'?"
Her eyebrows rising and her lips quirking, she said demurely, "Well, that depends on whether or not you're any good."
And with a low growl and deep kiss, Mal set about to demonstrating to Inara just how good he truly was, but more importantly, how good they could be together.
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