"She's been crying near on an hour," Kaylee said softly.

"Then why haven't you gone in?" Simon asked.

The young woman looked hesitantly at the doorway to the shuttle. "I tried. She near bit my head off."

"Perhaps she needs a little time."

"Yeah, but … what if it's something important? Like she's ill, or something? Maybe you should go in."

"Thanks, but I quite like having my head where it is."

"Coward."

"Oh, absolutely. Particularly when it comes to women who are crying."

Kaylee looked up at him. "Didn't say that when I was crying yesterday."

The young doctor pulled her towards him. "That wasn't because you were upset. That was because I …" He whispered into her ear.

She blushed. "That'll do it every time," she admitted.

"I'll make a note of it in my journal."

Voices reached them from outside the cargo bay in the cool air of Beylix.

"…so I told her I'd have to put my finger on it to find out!" Jayne finished his tale as he walked up the ramp, guffawing in remembrance of it. The others followed.

"Jayne, that is …" Mal couldn't finish, couldn't find the right word to describe the five minutes of vulgarity the mercenary had just come out with.

"Funny?" the big man suggested.

"Actually, yeah." Mal had to smile. "But not when there's ladies present."

Zoe turned her gaze on him. "Then what am I?"

Mal backpedalled. "You're … you're first mate. You don't count. As a woman, I mean. No, I didn't … it's just –"

She took pity on him. "It doesn't matter," she said, heading for the bridge and River, to tell her to get underway. "I didn't understand what you were both laughing about anyway."

"I could explain," Jayne offered.

"I will never be that desperate," Zoe countered dryly, disappearing from view.

"We get paid?" Kaylee asked, leaning over the catwalk.

"That we did," Mal smiled, hefting a bag of coin from his pocket. "And not one gunshot or knife wound between us."

"Well, that makes a pleasant change," Simon said.

"Could be putting you out of business."

"Somehow I doubt that."

Mal gave him a glare, just to keep in practice. "So what're you two lovebirds doing up there? Nothing disgusting, I hope."

"Not so far," Kaylee said. "Only ..."

"Only what?"

"There's … something wrong with Inara."

Mal was up the stairs before she could blink. "Wrong? How wrong?"

"Listen."

He did as he was told, and heard crying coming from inside the shuttle. "What the hell did you say to her?" Mal demanded, glaring at Simon.

"Now, that ain't the way of it," Kaylee interrupted before the doctor could get all snarky. "I found her like that, and she won't … she ain't saying what the problem is. But it ain't Simon."

"Thank you, Kaylee," the young man said.

"You're welcome."

"So you don't know what's wrong." Something about the crying was tearing him up inside.

"Nope. I was just suggesting Simon might like to go and see, but I'm beginning to think it'd be better if it was someone higher up. You know, in charge, even."

Mal glared at her. "What makes you think she's likely to tell me if she won't speak to you?"

Kaylee shrugged. "Could try."

"Maybe Zoe'd be the best person. You know, woman to woman."

"You saying I ain't a woman?" Kaylee drew herself up to her full height, still barely reaching his chin.

Mal closed his eyes. "I ain't gonna win this, am I?"

"I doubt it," Simon put in. "We're men – I don't think we're designed to."

"Fine." He sighed and looked at the doorway. "If I'm not out in an hour, I'd like my ashes scattered round Badger's office."

"Shr ah, Captain," Kaylee agreed, rather more brightly than necessary.

Mal tugged his coat straight, and stepped into the shuttle.

"Go away!"

"Inara?" He peered into the semi-darkness.

"Go away!"

"I ain't going anywhere, xin chang. Not 'til I know what the … what's wrong." He closed on the bed, and the lump under a rather tatty-looking comforter. His brows furrowed – it didn't look like something Inara would touch with a branding iron, let alone snuggle under. Although snuggling wasn't quite what she was doing. Hiding was a better word. There wasn't one part of her visible.

"Nothing. Is. Wrong." Each word was punctuated by a sob or a sniffle. "Go away."

"Nope." He sat down on the edge, his hand hovering over what he thought was her hip, wondering whether to pat or stroke, but deciding on neither. "Far as I can recall, I'm captain around here. And in that capacity I intend for you to tell me what's happened." He waited for a moment, but there was no sign of compliance. "Are you sick? 'Cause Simon's not that far –"

"Not sick. Go away."

"Thought we'd agreed I wasn't gonna do that?"

Suddenly she threw back the comforter, sitting up and glaring at him. "Qi kai!"

"Saying it in Chinese ain't gonna make me, either." He studied her, her hair falling down around her shoulders, her eyes red, her face blotchy … He'd never seen her so beautiful. Still, self-preservation made him decide not to mention it. "So, you gonna be sensible?"

"I resigned!" She shouted the word so it rang from the shuttle's rafters.

"Right." He nodded. Waited for her to continue. Then he gave in. "And?"

"I resigned! Don't you understand? I'm not a Companion anymore." Tears welled in her eyes again, and she threw herself back onto the pillow.

"Thought that was the plan."

She mumbled something but he couldn't quite make it out.

"Shah muh?"

She lifted her head a little. "I said, it was, but I didn't know how I was going to feel!"

"How do you feel?" he asked softly.

"I don't know!" she wailed.

"O-kay." He lengthened the syllables, but reached into his pocket for his large white linen handkerchief. He held it out to her. "Wanna talk about it?"

"No." But she grabbed the hankie and blew her nose.

He sighed, but quietly. He really wanted this woman, more than he had any other, so that probably included all snotty and miserable too, as well as looking after her when she'd worked herself up into a state like this. But it still made him a little queasy. "I'm figuring that, in this case at least, no probably means yes."

"What do I do now, Mal?" She looked at him, but the glare had gone. "If I'm not a Companion, what am I?"

"You're Inara." She went to speak, but he held up a hand. "And I know you think that ain't anything, but it's the most important thing there is." He reached forward, let that hand rest on her cheek, wiping away the tears. "I know what you've done, 'Nara. And I know why. And I am … well, I guess it scares me too, a little."

She sat up more, gathering her legs under her. "Scares you? How?"

He glanced down at his lap, then looked back into her eyes. "I ain't never had anyone give up their life for me before."

"I'm not dying."

"Really? The sound you were making, I think Kaylee was ordering her funeral weeds."

She half-smiled, and it warmed him through. "I'm not as bad as that."

"'Nara, they were polishing up the cortege on Osiris."

She giggled, somehow the most erotic sound he'd ever heard, even if she was almost hiccupping too. "Are not."

"Are too." He felt her leaning into his hand. "'Nara, you've made this sacrifice 'cause of me, and if you want to cry about it, go ahead. Get it out of your system, long as you need. But you just remember that it ain't gonna change you. You're still Inara Serra, the most beautiful woman in the 'verse. Even if you look all disgusting right now."

"Disgusting?" She went to scramble off the bed to look at herself in the mirror, but he stopped her, pulling her down into his lap.

"No. You ain't gonna repair this, cover it over like it never happened. It did. And I'm glad. I just wish I could show you what I'd give up for you."

She felt his warm arms around her, and the compulsion to paint away the ravages dissipated. She snuggled down into his chest. "What would you give up?"

"What would you like?"

"Serenity?" She felt him tense. "No. I'm teasing, Mal." She looked into his eyes, so blue usually, but so dark right now in the dim light. "I wouldn't ask that."

"So you're gonna be the one on the high horse? Giving up your living for me, and I don't get to do the same for you?" He could feel her against his body, and it was so natural, so right.

"If you give up being shot for me, that's enough." She closed her eyes. "And maybe going out to bars quite so much."

"Bars?" He wriggled enough so he could see her face, see her smiling. "What's wrong with bars?"

"Nothing. Except every time you go into one you seem to get into a fight."

"Nah, that's not me. That's Jayne."

"You'll be telling me he leads you into whorehouses, too."

He rested his chin on the top of her head, stroking her hair away from her cheek. "Ain't never been, don't intend to start."

"Never?"

He quickly changed the subject. "So I give up going into bars with Jayne. I can do that."

"And the getting shot?"

"Best I can."

"That's okay then."

"That's it? You don't want anything else?"

"Oh, I want lots, Mal. But I think that's for another day." She yawned, and did the unthinkable – she didn't cover her mouth.

"Tired?"

"Mmn." She snuggled down a little closer, and he lay back on the pillow, taking her with him.

"Not surprised, after all that. Why don't you take a nap? I'll watch over you. Won't let anything happen to you."

"Promise?" Already her voice was thick with sleep.

"Promise."

"'S okay, then."

An hour later, as Kaylee had promised, she looked into the shuttle, ready to gather Mal's remains for the funeral pyre.

She grinned. Nah, this was better. And so sweet.

She turned around and left, closing the door as quietly as she could on the sleeping couple. Now, if they'd only been naked …