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.
hundan: bastard
banfei: a made-up word, literal Chinese for "half-price" based on the Japanese hangyoku (lit. half-charge, a geisha-in-training), who can be hired to host dinner parties
Inara did not bother to make an excuse the next morning. She just left, long before the companion was expected to arrive, and stayed away until there was no possibility the woman was still around. When she returned to the ship, she greeted no one, but simply went to her shuttle. She looked around the room in distaste. As far as she could tell, nothing had been disturbed, but she hated the idea of it. A stranger, looking around her home, judging it. Within minutes she was pulling at her things, tossing them into a pile to be cleaned. Her wild hands lit on something small and round, it looked vaguely like a compact. It had probably been dropped by that woman, left behind on accident. Inara opened the shuttle door and threw the thing out into the hallway as hard as she could. She did not feel better.
Serenity left Persephone three days later right on schedule.
Inara woke confused. The proximity alert went on and on, and still no one shut it off. She pulled on her dressing gown and stumbled blearily out of the shuttle. The first thing she noticed was the smell. Serenity smelled funny. There was a sweet smell to the air, and a grimy feeling to the walls. Her eyes blurred slightly. Something was wrong.
She fumbled her way to the cockpit leaning against the wall as she fought a dizzying wave of nausea. Wash was slumped over the panel. She rushed toward him and breathed a deep sigh of relief when she discovered the pulse in his neck. She turned the alarm off.
At first, she could see nothing out of the view screen. She lifted Wash gently off the instrument panel, leaning him back against the chair. His head flopped awkwardly, but she didn't have time to worry about that. The readouts showed something large—a ship—spare meters from the hull. She looked back at the view screen. There it was at the bottom left corner, the edge of something metallic. With a bit of a panic, she realized that whoever it was—pirates, reavers—was probably trying to open a hatch somewhere, and she had no idea how to stop them. She checked the readouts again. None of the hatches seemed to be open now, but whoever it was could already be inside.
Even before she reached the com, she thought it might not only be a wasted effort, but a dangerous one. She just didn't know what else to try. "This is Inara. Serenity is being boarded." There was no response. She hadn't expected one. Any of the crew able to would have already responded to the lengthy proximity alert she was sure. She supposed that everyone else was like Wash. Her heart skipped a beat. Wash was breathing, but maybe the others were not. She was halfway down the catwalk, dashing toward the crew quarters when she tripped on her dress robe.
She clutched at the railing to break her fall, but still lost balance, falling to her knees. The slight burning sensation of the scrape was shock enough to jolt her back into deliberateness. With a quick prayer for wisdom and courage, she started to breathe: in for seven beats, hold for seven beats, out for seven beats, the first meditation she had ever learned. It didn't take but a moment. Companions were trained to remain unfazed in a variety of situations, and Inara was the best. She lifted her chin and stood, the panicky feeling gone. She continued on her way toward the crew quarters. She was no longer looking for injured people; she was looking for weapons.
She did not bother with the weapons locker. She didn't have the combination. Mal was not the type to leave it unlocked. She tried Jayne's room first. She'd known he was paranoid about River lately, but she also knew that he would have a wide variety of guns. Her experience with them was limited, and she knew it would help if she had a choice. Her initial instincts were correct; it was locked. Luckily, Wash and Zoe's quarters were not. Zoe was slumped on the floor, half-undressed. Inara supposed she'd been expecting Wash. She stopped to make sure Zoe was breathing, wishing there was a way to make her more comfortable. Zoe was going to wake up sore, but Inara didn't have time to dwell on it. She looked around. It didn't take her long to spot the gun still in its holster, lying on the bed. She picked it up. The gun was heavier than she'd expected, but not too bad. Inara was used to holding swords, and not just fencing rapiers either. She was pretty sure she could fire Zoe's gun and keep her wrist steady. She'd worry about the kick-back later.
She had a weapon, but what good was it? What could she do against reavers? Inara knew that there was little she really could do, but she might as well do what she could.
She stood by the door in case someone came through it, trying to decide where best to station herself. It was hard not knowing which hatch they would use. It was only when the gun almost slipped through her fingers that she realized her palms were sweaty. She was still nervous. Why? Why was she so unnerved? Why was her training failing her? She looked down at the gun in her hands and her mouth twisted in disgust. It was not her training that had failed. She was doing it again. Thinking like one of them. Like the crew, but she wasn't one of them. Not really. Mal had made that clear.
Inara peeked into the corridor, and moved out. She still saw nothing, could hear no one. She moved swiftly to her shuttle. Companions didn't use guns. They had other weapons. Inara was a companion.
Inara didn't take long. Within minutes she had opened up the special box and pocketed the vial, and its accompanying needle. She knew there were rumors. There was no shortage of vids on the cortex that featured companion characters trained as assassins or spies and given vials of poison to take should they be discovered. There were artsy vids too with companions killing themselves to keep from losing their honor at the hands of reavers. Companions to whom the right to choose a client was sacred, who killed themselves to be spared the dishonor. The vids had got one thing right. The freedom to choose was almost a religion in the companion's guild. That's why the guild made sure every companion had a vial ... but it didn't tell them what to use it for.
When Inara came out of the shuttle she heard movement down below. There were people moving through the cargo bay. Inara froze. A companion's first duty was to listen. Sometimes that's all a client wanted or needed. If a client wanted more, then a companion who has listened will know and know how to give it to them. She listened.
"Move them all into the cargo bay. I want them all in one place so that we can keep an eye on them if they start waking up before we dump them. How long until we make planetfall?"
"Why not just kill them? Why go to all this trouble to steal a ship you could buy a million times over?"
"Malcolm Reynolds took something from me. Now I'm going to take everything he has. Unfortunately the hundan doesn't have anything. Except this ship. That's enough, though. Let him be the one to lose everything. Let him be the one humiliated in front of everyone. In front of her," the man spat.
Inara's teachers had been correct. All a companion really needed to do was listen. Now Inara knew what the enemy wanted and who the enemy was.
Atherton.
Maybe the gun would be useful after all.
There was no place to hide. The moment she took a step she would be heard, and there was little to be gained by locking herself in her shuttle. She did not bother. Anyway, now that she knew what she was dealing with she knew exactly what she had to do. Inara stepped boldly out and called to Atherton in a loud voice.
"Inara," he said. With a smile, he gestured her down toward his level. He wanted to play it charming. She could do that.
"Atherton," she said, greeting him as if he had never threatened her.
"I'm surprised to see you. Emily assured me that she had been quite thorough in spreading the gas disks around the ship during her little tour."
"I am sure she was," Inara said. "I simply happened to discover the one in my shuttle. I didn't know what it was, of course, but I moved it."
"Ah, you always did have an unaccountable luck. I'm sorry, but I'm afraid my men will have to take that little gun you're carrying."
Inara put up a token struggle. Because she had a gun and tried to keep it, they did not bother searching her. Clients always saw what they wanted. They never saw all the things that a companion kept back, hidden up their sleeves. Things like vials of poison.
Atherton walked toward her, and his hand reached to stroke one of her curls. "You were a beautiful woman, Inara. I would have given you everything."
"There are some things, Atherton, that you don't have it in you to give." Closer, she thought. Let me get closer. She turned her face into his hand, kissing his palm.
"Damn you," he muttered. His hand twisted painfully in her hair, tilting her head. She damped down the revulsion. Yes, she thought. Kiss me. Touch me. Just let me get close to you.
His other hand was on her shoulder now, his fingers digging in tightly in a sham of a caress. She bit back a cry of pain, letting him yank her toward him. "I was going to let you live," he murmured into her ear, lover-like. "But you always have to interfere." His hands moved to twine about her neck, cutting off her air supply. "You stupid whore, did you think I'd trust you again? Let you seduce me?" It was too late. Her arms had already snaked around him. She tilted her wrist. The vial slid into her hand. With a nail she poked the top, popping the seal that allowed the needle to spring forth. Atherton had 1.8 seconds between feeling the needle bite through his skin and his heart stopping.
She gasped for air, letting his body drop to the floor with a thud. Poor Atherton, always thinking every game was his to win, expecting everyone to play by his rules.
She heard the click of five guns being cocked. Five guns trained on her. She looked at them, and when she spoke it was with a frightening confidence. "You could shoot a companion," she whispered. "Maybe the guild would let you live. Maybe you'd only go to jail. You could shoot a companion ... or you could leave."
They left. She supposed they told themselves it was because there was no one to pay them now, but she knew the real reason they left. Everyone knew the rumors. Everyone watched the vids. Assassins and spies. From their vantage point, Inara had hugged Atherton, and he had died. They didn't see the needle.
When she was alone with only her passed-out crewmates, Inara allowed herself to fall to the ground, to draw her knees to her chest and wait. Someone else could deal with Atherton's body. Companions didn't dirty their hands with such things.
Mal was the last to wake. Inara and Simon kept vigil together. It was in those long moments, waiting, that Inara knew what she had to do. If she had acted as a companion should, none of this would have happened. Mal and Atherton would have had no reason to be jealous of each other. The long chain of events that led to one man's death and another man's danger never would have happened.
When Mal awoke, he was groggy, but remarkably clear-headed. His eyes were deadly when he heard about Atherton. "But you're all right?" he said.
"Yes," Inara answered.
"Good." His hand reached up to cup her jaw. "I was so stupid," he said. "I never should have invited that woman—"
She couldn't bear it. She removed his hand. "No," she said. "You were right."
Mal's face contorted in confusion for a moment.
"Nothings's changed," Inara said gently.
His mouth hardened. "No, I suppose not," he said. She wanted to reassure him, but it was better this way. Mere rejection he could survive.
He sat up, ignoring Simon's blustery protests and left the room without a word.
Simon's arms went around her. She started to pull away in surprise, but he whispered in her ear, "You looked like you needed it."
She shuddered, overcome. "I—yes, I do," she said in a shaking voice. Simon put his arms around her, and she leaned on him a bit.
"I'm leaving," she said.
"I know," he answered.
"Do you think it's wrong?"
"I think that only you know what's best for you."
"And for you? Would you go?"
"I wouldn't ever have chosen this life. It's hard. It's mean. It's unfair. But if anyone ever offered me the chance to go back, I wouldn't take it."
"I've never been anything but a companion. I became a banfei when I was ten, you know. I never thought of doing anything else. Never thought I could do anything else."
"And now?"
"Now? I don't know, but I think it is time I found out. Either I'm a companion, or I'm not. I can't do halfways."
She laid her head upon his shoulder. He held her gently, imperceptibly rocking their backs as she cried.
The next morning her eyes were dry. She did not allow herself to cry again. She simply went on about the business of finding some place to go.
"Inara's ride is here," Wash announced over the intercom. "Can they dock?"
Mal got up from the table and walked over to the com. "Permission granted," he said.
Inara stood. A strange calm permeated her body. She felt more centered than she had in a long while. The rest of the crew got up as well, and began to file into the cargo bay. Mal remained standing by the com, his gaze fixed to the wall.
"Captain," Kaylee said. He looked up blankly. "You should say goodbye." He opened his mouth to protest. "Please," she implored. His mouth closed; he nodded.
Inara's bags were already in the cargo bay. She directed the other crew to load them onto the other ship. She walked over to the crew, hugging them good-bye in turn. By unspoken agreement they stepped back when she got to Mal, offering the two of them a relative measure of privacy.
He wasn't able to hold the bitter words in, but then she'd always appreciated his bluntness. "Should have known you'd run away," he said.
"I'm not," she insisted. "I'm walking" She meant it, but it felt like a lie.
He shrugged. "You're leaving," he said.
"M—" she stopped. She wasn't sure she had the right to use his name any longer. "Don't," she pleaded. "Don't."
He lowered his head. His hands were clenched fists. When he looked up, his eyes glinted. "I'm not man enough to make this easy for you," he said. "If that's what you're asking, I can't."
She nodded. She hadn't had the right to ask. "If you ever, " her voice broke. She took a deep breath. "Call me if you ever need help," she said. "I have—"
"I won't, " he interrupted. "Not from you."
She bent her head. When she looked up her eyes were bright, but her face was expressionless. "I know," she whispered. "Goodbye, Malcolm Reynolds."
Her things had been loaded. She turned and left Serenity. The doors slid shut behind her. Inara did not look back. She kept walking.
Finis