Archive: Do not archive without permission.
Ackinowledgements: First and foremost, much love to llaras and sffan for betaing this. Any mistakes that remain are my own. Thanks also go to skripka for translating half-charge for me.
Notes: This was written for a Hug Simon challenge.
méiyôu mûqin de xiao gôu: motherless cur
Inara's brush swept across the scroll in an easy rhythm: left-falling stroke, horizontal, right-falling stroke, new character, left-falling stroke, horizontal, perpendical, square, new character. She paused to look up the next character and absent-mindedly stroked her lip. With a scowl, she pulled her hand away and returned to her work. It irritated her that she'd developed the habit of tracing her fingers across her lip. She could almost hear the voice of the house priestess in her head. "A companion's only habit is grace." There was nothing to see and nothing to feel. Yet, her fingers returned again and again to the spot that Jubal Early had struck the month before. She had never been hit like that. Didn't he know who she was?
Did she?
No one would dare to hit a companion. To do so would call down the formidable wrath of the entire companion's guild. But that man had hit her, unhesitatingly and without regret. Companions were never hit. Inara had been. What did that make her? Had she done something wrong? A companion knew the correct tone of voice and the correct gestures for every situation. But her voice and gestures, calculated to calm, had brought forth anger. A companion who could not read people was no companion at all.
She felt Serenity shudder as its engines powered up. Mal and Jayne must have returned from their job. She was glad. The ship was headed to Persephone next. At long last, they were going to a planet where she could find clients. It would be good to get back to work, the familiar routine. It would be good to unpack the tea cups and the linens, to sit and chat about things of unimportance. Good to be a companion again, the only thing she'd ever known.
She grimaced when she realized that she'd trailed her sleeve through the wet ink. How sloppy. She'd left House Madrassa to regain her equilibrium, find again her center, but instead she seemed to be spinning even more apart.
As she stood to rinse out her brushes, she heard the distinct boom of gunfire and ran for the cargo bay instead.
The door was open. Zoe and River flanked either side, shooting rapidly. Inara saw Simon rush in as well, and gestured to him to take cover as she had. Through the doorway, she could see Mal and Jayne running toward the ship. She prayed that the cover fire would be sufficient.
It was. The two men hit the ramp at a dead run, gasping for air. Mal pressed the com as Jayne slammed his hand against the button to close the door. "Wash, we're on," Mal puffed. "Go." The ramp began to rise, as did the ship. Inara stumbled as Serenity jerked upwards, and one last bullet slid throught the opening at an awkward angle ricocheting around the bay before creasing her arm. She cried out in pain. Mal and Simon were by her side in moments.
"I'm fine," she gritted, trying not to pass out. She'd never realized before how much bullets hurt. "It's just a scratch."
"Then what's all that blood?" Mal accused. His jaw was clenched so tight, Inara was amazed he could talk at all. "Why can't you stay in your shuttle where you belong?"
"It's just a flesh wound," Simon said calmly, holding her arm gently. "But it's a long one, you should have stitches." Inara nodded and tried to stand. A wave of dizziness swamped her and she found herself leaning heavily on Simon for support. Dimly, she heard Mal stalking off.
She turned her head to watch as he snatched the gun from River's hand. He turned the safety back on and waved it under her nose. "How many times have I told you?" he said. "No touching guns. Where did you get this?" River crossed her arms.
"Sir." Zoe's tone was clear.
Mal sighed and cuffed River on the shoulder. "Thanks."
He turned away from her and his eyes met Inara's briefly before lowering to her arm. He lifted his gaze and headed for the stairs leading up to the cockpit. Mal called over his shoulder without looking back, "Get her to the infirmary, doc, before she bleeds all over my ship." ----- As night became early morning, Inara finally gave up the idea that she was ever going to get to sleep. She bathed and dressed, prayed to the ancestors, and then went to make a cup of tea. The ship was quiet save its usual rattles and hums, and she was thinking that she might sit and read a book in the lounge when she heard a loud thump from the infirmary.
She turned the water off, then walked briskly to the source of the sound. She saw Simon sitting on the floor inside, leaning his head against a bulkhead, his face in his hands. A book lay across the room. He had obviously thrown it. "Simon?" she inquired. "Simon? You haven't been up all night?" Inara said, her gentle voice laced with concern.
He stood up abruptly. "Is there a problem? Do you need something?"
"No, I'm just an early riser this morning. I was getting some tea. Are you all right?"
"Yes," he said, tugging on his earlobe. "I'm just—thinking."
Even someone without companion training would have seen the misery, exhaustion and frustration in the stiff lines of his form. "What is the matter?" she said softly as she tried to take his hand to lead him to the galley. He pulled away from her, and she was hurt until she realized he was simply picking up the book. She turned then and he followed her out.
Simon sat down at the table. Inara turned the water back on and got out two mugs. "Simon?" she said. His gaze was blank, staring at nothing at all, and he gripped a pen and the notebook tightly.
"Huh?" he said, with a jerk. He focused his eyes on hers. "I'm sorry," he said. "Did you say something?"
"I believe you were going to tell me why you appear to have stayed awake all night." Simon looked around in hesitation. "Everyone's asleep," she encouraged.
"It's River," he sighed.
Inara frowned slightly. "She seems better to me," she said cautiously.
Simon fiddled with his pen. "She is better," he said. "But it doesn't matter. I think she's as better as I can make her. And it's not good enough." He stabbed the pen into his notebook. "It's not good enough."
She reached out and firmly took the pen from his hand. "What do you mean?" she said. The teapot whistled and she went to get the two cups. "Sugar?" Simon shook his head.
"There's only so much that drugs can do. They can't unsever the connections in her brain or repair the damage to her amygdala. I think I've helped her as much as I can." He massaged the back of his neck. "I don't know. Maybe if I were a better doctor or if my specialty were neurosurgery I could do more."
"Maybe that's true," Inara said.
"Nice of you to try to cheer me up," Simon said.
"Maybe you're not a good enough doctor. Maybe you don't know enough about neurosurgery." Inara said. "That is a good thing." Simon gave her a quizzical look."It means there are still things that can be done, things to try. Maybe you don't know enough yet. That doesn't mean you never will."
Simon looked blankly at her. She could see the wheels grinding in his head. "I never thought of it that way," he said.
"That's because you're exhausted," she said. "You can't help your sister that way."
"I know you're right," he mumbled. "It's just—I have to do something."
"Not tonight," she said. "Or rather this morning."
"Is it that late?" he yawned. "Maybe I should just take a shower and forget the sleep." He obviously didn't want to lie down.
"Is that—" Inara hesitated. She did not want to overstep her bounds. "Is that all that's bothering you?"
He rubbed his eyes, then wearily shook his stiff fingers, cramped from hours of writing. "What do you mean?"
"Kaylee," she said, taking his hands in hers and massaging the circulation back.
"Kaylee? Why? Has she said something?"
"No, but I've noticed a certain ... awkwardness between the two of you lately."
"Maybe," he said. "I don't—I haven't—I don't know."
Inara laughed. "Oh, it's like that," she said.
Simon smiled as well, a little wearily, but Inara was pleased to see that he seemed more relaxed then he had been a few moments ago.
"Good morning, doc," Mal said, walking into the room.
Simon yanked his hands from Inara's guiltily. She gave a tiny sigh. Simon had a way of always seeming to have been caught doing something wrong. She wished he would relax for once. She turned a polite smile towards Mal. "Good morning, Mal," she said.
"Inara." Mal inclined his head perfunctorily. He gave Simon a sour look that seemed to linger on the other man's disheveled hair and wrinkled clothing. "Busy night?" Mal inquired.
Simon stood hastily. "I should go," he said. "Take a shower."
"Simon," Inara said. She walked over and embraced him. He flinched and then stood stiffly in her arms.
He relaxed suddently and put his own arms around her. "Thank you," he said.
"You look like you needed it," she replied. She pulled back and gave him a wicked smile. "Besides it's what I do."
"How sweet," Mal drawled.
Simon gave him a startled look. "I'm going to go—infirmary." He fled leaving Mal and Inara alone.
"Keeping my crew up all night?" Mal asked.
Inara counted to ten before replying. "I just woke up," she answered. "Same as you."
Mal didn't answer. Inara decided that she'd rather go back to her shuttle then listen to Mal's angry silence, but before she could leave Mal was talking again.
"I'm going to need your shuttle tomorrow," he said as he started making a cup of tea.
"My shuttle? Why?"
"Just let me know when it's available." His voice was flat.
"Well, I don't have any clients in the morning," she said. "I suppose—"
"The morning's fine. Clean it up, if you can." He poured the lukewarm water that she'd heated earlier into a mug. She couldn't imagine why he'd be in such a hurry.
"Why do you need it?" she said.
Mal headed for the doorway, his eyes not coming anywhere near her. "I'd better go check our course," he said. "Wash is still asleep."
He left before she could say anything else. Her eyes searched his retreating figure for a clue, but all she could see was tension. As always. ----- Dinner that night started out as a quiet affair. Mal seemed to be in a foul mood, and none of the crew wanted to set off an explosion.
"Pass me the mashed protein." Simon's serious eyes met Kaylee's shining ones and he ducked his head a little. "Please," he said. Kaylee beamed as their fingers touched when she passed him the bowl.
Inara looked down at her plate to hide her smile. It was nice to see Kaylee happy. She deserved someone like Simon.
Mal cleared his throat. "Wash figures we'll be touching down on Persephone right on schedule tomorrow. Kaylee, I want you and Wash to check around for good deals on spare parts. Zoe, you and Jayne take Badger his cut."
"You're not coming, sir?"
Mal looked hard into his plate. "I've got to stay here, got someone interested in renting out Inara's shuttle."
Inara dropped her cup. Tea splashed across the table.
Zoe stood up. "Wash, why don't you and I finish dinner in our bunk?"
Simon stood as well. "I've got something—things—to do in the infirmary. River?"
Kaylee and the Shepherd had also stood. "River can play jacks with me," Kaylee said with a wink at the other girl. "I can't beat you if I don't get any practice in."
Wash and Jayne sat fascinated looking back and forth between Mal and Inara.
Zoe bent downward and kissed the back of Wash's neck. "Wash," she whispered.
He tilted his head up to look at her. "You're just offering me sex to get me out of here," he grumbled.
She took his hand and lifted it to her mouth. Placing a small kiss on his palm, she looked into his eyes. "Does that matter?" she asked.
"Strangely, no." He stood up. "We'll be in our bunk." As the crew started to leave, Zoe called warningly over her shoulder. "Jayne."
"Hey, no one's offering me sex," he said. Book lay a hand on his shoulder. "How about a different work out?"
Jayne grunted as he stood. "Never get to hear anything interesting on this ship."
"I could read you a little something from the Bible," Book said. "All kinds of interesting. Arguments aplenty if that's what you have a mind for."
"Ain't exactly the same, now is it," Jayne snorted, but he followed the shepherd out.
Once they were gone, Inara took a deep breath. There was anger underneath the hurt. She could focus on that. Inara glared at Mal, but he kept eating in a great show of nonchalance. She crossed her arms. "Well?" she demanded.
"Well what?" Mal said, his eyes flicking toward hers before darting away.
"What do you mean you're showing my shuttle to somebody?"
Mal shrugged. "You're the one who's always going on about leaving," he said.
"I haven't left yet," she snapped. "I haven't even set a date."
"And what? I'm supposed to wait for one day when you decide it's time to go? I can't afford a gap in rent money."
"I can't believe you," Inara said. "You should've told me first. You should've asked."
Now he did look at her. "It's my shuttle," Mal said.
"My rent is paid."
"Look," he said. "Maybe I should've asked. But I didn't and now I got someone coming."
"I need my shuttle, Mal," Inara said.
"No, you don't," Mal said.
"I don't?" she gritted out. "How am I supposed to do business?"
"She?" Inara's voice was deceptively calm.
Mal ran his hand through his hair. "Yes, she."
"And what business is she in?"
"She's a whore, all right? Just like you."
"You're a méiyôu mûqin de xiao gôu, Malcolm Reynolds." Inara cursed and left the galley, her hands shaking.