Zhen daomei: Oh, how very unfortunate
Go se: Crap
Tzao gao: oh, shit
Tianxia suoyoude ren dou gaisi: Damn everyone in the verse
As Inara continued to stare hungrily at the vid screen, it took her a moment to realize that Jin-Mei had kept speaking.
"-- are hiding aboard Malcolm Reynolds's ship," Jin-Mei was saying. "However, the Alliance cannot seem to pin them down." She settled herself back more comfortably against the pillows. "I learned that they set a trap for him, a lure to draw him and his crew to a specific place. I called in every favor I had, pulled every Guild string that I know."
Inara's scalp crawled as her training took in the way Jin-Mei's eyes slid from hers as she tapped her nails rapidly against the coverlet. "What have you done, Mother?" She watched in horrified fascination as Jin-Mei licked her lips. Inara would have sworn that her mother had not a single nerve in her body, yet now every one appeared to be jangling.
"You were a spy," Jin-Mei said simply. "And you know this young man. I thought, I believed--that the best course would be to remind the right people of that fact, get you assigned to help them lure Lee's little boy. You would know exactly what they were planning, and you would be in a better position to subvert them." She flicked her nails toward Inara. "Now they know that you worked out of his ship for awhile; you are to make contact with him."
"Make contact?" Inara repeated, searching Jin-Mei's expression.
"The trap is an art auction aboard a cruise ship. He'll be hired to steal a calligraphic scroll from the auction. Officially, you will be there as temporary additional companionship for the duration of the auction. You are to use your past relationship to draw out these fugitives, Simon and River Tam, and lead them into a trap with two Alliance agents."
"And unofficially?"
"You will be helping to keep the Reynolds boy from going to prison--or worse. If that means helping these fugitives, then you will do so."
Jin-Mei's fingers continued their restless tap, tap, tapping. "What are you not telling me?" Inara asked. The fingers stopped tapping as Jin-Mei's hand fisted in the cover.
"I called in every favor, pulled every string, yet as long as my reach is, every single person I contacted could not help me. These agents could not be gotten to by anyone. My contacts either denied any knowledge of these people or refused to offer any information in exchange for the very highest bribes . Whatever part of the government they belong to, it's beyond the reach of even the Guild." Jin-Mei shook her head. "Daughter, there is no such thing."
Inara rubbed her hand against her forehead. "I don't understand."
"The Companion's Guild has a long reach, Inara," Jin-Mei sighed. "It didn't take much investigating to realize that those who come in contact with these, for lack of a better word, agents, end up dead." Her thin hand reached out, gripping Inara's wrist, hard enough that she could not break free. "I called in every favor and was told 'no.' And yet, and yet it still came about that I was contacted and asked for permission to use you on the exact mission to which I was hoping to get you assigned." Jin-Mei's voice slipped to an urgent croak. "It seems that my attempts attracted attention. I think someone now believes that you are a loose end in need of tying." Inara shuddered. "I am very sorry to cause you this trouble," Jin-Mei said. "But Malcolm Reynolds must not die, Inara."
How, how could she do this? How could she possibly keep them all safe? "No," she assented. "He must not." She folded her hands serenely in her lap, the closest she could come to a meditating posture while holding a conversation. The first step to helping any client was to consider the client. What is his personality? What are his talents? Mal, Inara thought, was an idiot. But he was a live one. If she could warn him of the trap, he would surely come up with a plan. A stupid, idiotic, noble plan that had absolutely no chance of working, and would probably get several people killed. She smiled to herself. But somehow it would work.
"Lee's little boy must be made safe." Inara nodded, still deep in contemplation. Jin-Mei released a deep breath. "Inara?" At the soft inquiry, Inara furled her brow at the other woman. "You accomplish this, and I will let you come home."
"You--what?"
"All debts will be paid, and I will allow you to return to House Madrassa." Even if she were to discount Jin-Mei's warning that Inara herself was in danger, she had not needed any incentive. Inara had long ago accepted that she would do nearly anything for Mal. However, to go back to the houseāto rejoin her sisters, to be respected and cared for once again, was a powerful dream.
She looked Jin-Mei straight in the eye and patted her hand reassuringly. "Don't worry, Mother. I will make it right."
"No."
"You haven't even heard my offer yet," Badger said, pulling out a chair for Zoe. She rolled her eyes, but sat.
"I don't need to hear your gorram offer," Mal said. "My answer is no. No, I don't like you. No, I don't trust you. No, I don't want to work with you ever again."
"It's a unique job," Badger continued as if Mal hadn't spoken. "Requires unique handling. Naturally, I thought of your special little crew."
"What's the job?" Zoe asked.
"That's the spirit, luv," Badger leered, smacking his lips, as he poured her a drink.
Zoe doubled up her fist in warning. The click of several hammers being cocked simultaneously filled the room. Zoe smiled. With all of her teeth. "Nothing for me, thank you."
Badger gulped, but recovered, waving his hand to indicate that his "employees" could put their guns away. "A gentleman of my acquaintance has asked for my help in retrieving some property that was stolen from him," he said to Mal. "Some very expensive property that he forgot to insure."
"So he stole it from someone else," Mal said with an exaggerated yawn. "They steal it back?"
"He's not sure," Badger admitted. "What he does know is that there's going to be an auction for collectors of such artifacts on board a cruise ship, the Stellar Wind. The auction is held semi-annually. All the top collectors attend. There's often a fair amount of private trading that goes on as well."
"And your 'friend' thinks that whoever stole his 'property' will be trying to unload it there."
"Got it in one," Badger said with a wolfish grin. "I need someone to get on the ship, figure out who's got the merchandise, and steal it back."
"No," Mal said. "You got some cows need smuggling, fine. But stealing artwork from some rich, fancible cruise ship ain't exactly our kind of job."
"That's not what I hear," Badger said. "I hear stealing precious artifacts from rich, fancible places is exactly your kind of job. Like a Lassiter off of Bellerephon. Hypothetically speaking, of course."
"Of course."
"Might be someone'd have trouble unloading something like that. Might be I could help. Or might be the authorities could find out just who exactly would take something like that and where to find him."
"That's the second time you've tried to blackmail me," Mal said. "Getting a little old. Might be you don't want to try it a third time."
"I just want to make sure we understand each other."
"Oh, I understand," Mal said. "That you're an idiot." He laughed. "How you figure to get me on? I sure as hell can't pass as an art collector."
"All that art needs someone to protect it from, you'll appreciate the irony, thieves. Just so happens that there's been something of a turnover amongst the Stellar Wind's security force lately. They're lookin' to make some new hires. Your name might've come up."
"Why'd you come to me with this job, Badger? Am I really the best you could scrape up for a job like this?"
"As to that," Badger said, standing and putting on his hat. "Did a little checking. Investigating. Seems this cruise ship has hired on a few extra companions for the auction. Friend of yours is gonna be there. Always useful to have a man on the inside, so to speak."
"Friend?" Mal asked.
Zoe glared at Badger before turning wary eyes on Mal. "He means Inara, sir."
"What's the deal, Cap?" Kaylee chirped when Mal and Zoe returned to the ship.
"We got a job," Mal replied shortly. "I want us ready to go in under a couple of hours. Kaylee, check our docking clamp. We got to dock with a cruise ship. Make sure we're compatible."
"What's the job?" Wash asked.
"You got your assignments; get to work," Mal said. "I've got my own work to attend to." He spun and turned, marching away.
"We smuggling dolls again?" Wash asked, wrapping his arms around Zoe.
Her lips curved into a smile, even as her eyes followed Mal's direction with worry. "It's Inara," she replied.
"We're smuggling Inara?"
Zoe looked at her husband. "We're stealing a poem from the cruise ship. Badger gave Mal the job, because Inara's scheduled to be working at that time."
"Ai ya," Wash moaned. "Zhen daomei. So, how long should I expect this sulk of Mal's to last?"
Zoe leaned in to place a kiss on Wash's forehead. "Until about six months after the job is over."
"Ai ya," Kaylee sighed.
Inara had looked danger in the eye before. It had been hot and prickly and scalding. That kind of danger required grace and focus to dance over the hot coals without getting burned. She was not prepared for this kind of danger. She didn't feel as if she was in any danger at all. She didn't feel anything at all. It was as if there was mere air in front of her, rather than two men, and somehow, that sucking blankness of a hole was scarier than anything she'd ever confronted before.
"The Firefly docked with this cruise ship several hours ago. Have you made contact with the fugitives yet?" the dark-haired one asked.
"No, Mal has very good instincts." Inara clasped her hands, hoping the pose looked serene, as opposed to what it really was--an attempt to disguise the shaking of her hands. "I thought it would be best if we merely ran into each other unexpectedly. If I just go knocking at the door, he may sense a set-up and run." In reality, Inara could not contact Mal directly for fear of tipping off these men that her plan was to help him, so in the end she decided simply to cross paths with him on the cruise ship once she had been hired as temporary help for the auction. As double cover, she booked clients as normal while she waited and watched for Mal to arrive.
"By Mal, you mean Captain Reynolds?"
Go se. Well, it was not as if they didn't already know she knew Mal. "Yes."
The red-haired man twitched his nose stiffly in what she supposed was an attempt to convey displeasure. "We brought you in, because we'd like to capture the fugitives with a minimum of attention, but that concern is secondary--very secondary--to capturing them. If there are concerns about your efficacy, it may be necessary to dispense with your help. Do you understand?"
"You are operating under a time-limit."
"Exactly, Miss Serra, and we are not known for our patience." Granted, menacing was not an emotion companions had much call for, but these two would be excellent tutors. There was a subtle grace in the way they communicated a threat without a single change of expression or movement of any kind. Inara had an absurd impulse to congratulate them.
She swallowed hard. Other than the blue surgical gloves covering their hands, there really was not anything odd about them. The average person may have felt uneasy in their presence. But for someone intuitive by nature, trained to be an observer of people, the strangeness, the oddness of them was nearly unbearable. "I understand," Inara said, fighting an instinctual urge to flee.
Inara was in a hallway, flirting with a potential client when she heard the choked whisper behind her: "Inara." She turned slowly, willing herself not to fall apart. Mal's face was twisted in shock, as if her name had been ripped from the depths of his astonishment. She had imagined this moment many times, in order to prepare for the encounter. All her imaginings had been for naught. No mental image came close to the reality. She stared hungrily at his tanned hands and forearms, the hunch of his stance, the spiky silk of his hair and most of all the uncomplicated weight of his presence, that essence that marked him as a leader of men, wondering how it was possible she'd been able to endure months away from him.
She watched Mal's eyes shift toward the man she'd been talking to, taking in his well-dressed, wealthy appearance. Mal's eyes narrowed and he turned quickly, striding back down the way he'd just come. Desperately, she made her apologies to the man she'd been talking to and took off after Mal, struggling not to appear hurried. His legs were longer than hers, nor was he hampered by the need for grace. She couldn't keep up with him.
She couldn't run after him, not with people watching. "Captain Reynolds," she called with a tight smile. "May I speak to you for a moment?" He stopped so suddenly she had to hop to keep from walking into him.
He spun around, fury etched in the lines of his face. "Captain Reynolds?" he spat.
She glanced behind her. Her potential client had already disappeared back into his room. "Mal," she said, in a low voice. "I need to talk to you. You can't be here. You have to leave."
"I will not," he bellowed.
"Shh," Inara said. "What if someone hears you?"
Mal choked. "Excuse me, Miss Serra," he emphasized. He brushed past her.
"Mal, I need to talk to you."
"Not interested," he snapped.
She grabbed his arm. "Would you just listen?" Mal started to pull away. Over his shoulder, Inara saw a group of vacationers enter the corridor. Hastily, she pressed herself against Mal, and put her mouth close to his ear. "Unless you want to blow your cover by being seen accosting a companion in the corridor, I suggest you put your arms about me."
He did so reluctantly. Inara bit her lip and forced herself to ignore the tingle of pleasure that shot through her as her breasts pressed against his chest. "You have to leave, because this is all a set-up. The alliance lured you here so that they could find Simon and River."
Mal swallowed hard as her lips brushed against his earlobe. "I don't believe you," he whispered into her hair.
"So Badger didn't contact you and ask you to steal an antique scroll of calligraphy?"
"No," Mal said. That surprised her. Her head whipped round to stare into his eyes so fast that her nose crashed into his chin. "It was a poem," he clarified.
Inara glared. "You have to leave."
"It won't work," Mal said. "No one's going to tell them anything."
"And if they arrest all of you and try to torture the information out of Wash or Zoe?" She paused and pinned his gaze. "Or Kaylee?" His arms turned to iron, his fingers digging into her back.
"Tzao gao!" He looked at her suspiciously. "How do you know all this?"
"There's no time to explain."
Mal sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Yes, there is." He looked around. "But not here. Meet me on Serenity. Tonight."
"I can't." She hesitated. "I'm engaged for the evening."
He cursed. "In the morning then."
Inara nodded and pulled away. "I'll be happy to add you to my schedule, Mr. Reynolds."
A shiver ran down Inara's spine as the airlock hissed and she found herself looking, for the first time in months, at Serenity's interior. Everyone stood there to greet her in a receiving line-type formation, eerily reminiscent of how they'd said good-bye when she left. Companions were trained to be gracious in a variety of situations. But this one, most definitely, had never been covered. It was Kaylee who broke the silence first. Kaylee, who counted precious few situations awkward. Kaylee, who bounded forward with a squeal to throw her arm around Inara.
Then Simon, stiff with Core formality, "It's nice to see you again." Sweet Simon who'd responded to her first letter in great detail, letting her know how everyone was doing when Kaylee had still been too hurt and confused. Inara had known she would never hear from Mal, but to be ignored by Kaylee, however briefly, had been an unexpected sting, softened by Simon's careful handwriting and detailed doctor's eye. Then it was Book's turn and Wash's and River's and Zoe's. And even Jayne's. Mal hung back, his only comment a gruff injunction to move the conversation into the mess.
Inara wasn't sure how much of his mother's background Mal knew, and given his feelings about companions she thought it wisest to leave the past out of her explanation. Of course, that could be why he felt the way he did. It was easier telling the story this time, even with all the interruptions and questions. This time, Mal wasn't insisting she go away. "Now you all know the situation," Mal said. "Suggestions?"
It said a lot about how things had changed that Simon didn't immediately insist that Mal undock the ship and try to run. It hurt in some vague way to know that she'd missed that progression. "You can never go home again," a voice whispered in her head. She immediately squelched it. Serenity was not, had never been, her home. Though she wished she'd been there when Kaylee had repainted the walls. She'd written about it, of course, but it all looked so very different than she imagined. It all looked so dissimilar, but it felt the same. And she found herself stroking the walls as she listened to the crew debate.
"If that's all true," Wash said. "Leaving won't help."
Zoe nodded, taking her husband's hand in hers. "They'll just find us again."
"What'll we do?" Kaylee asked.
"I've already thought of that. Can you get blueprints of the cruise ship?" he asked Wash. At Wash's affirmative, Mal pinched the bridge of his nose and rubbed his forehead tiredly. "We'll have to kill Simon and River."
The meeting broke up soon after that. Inara promised Kaylee and River that she'd make time to visit with them just as soon as things became a little less life-threatening. To her surprise, Mal trailed her as she left Serenity. "Have you been spying on me?"
"What?"
"How did you happen to find out all of this?"
"I told you--the Companion's Guild has resources that--"
Mal cut her off. "Why was the Guild looking?" he demanded.
Despite all of Inara's training she couldn't think up a lie fast enough. "You were spying on me," Mal crowed. Inara blinked in surprise. He was smiling. It stole her breath away. The man's smile could charm stars out of the sky. "Miss me?"
Inara took a deep breath. "Yes."
The smile abruptly died on Mal's lips. Good, she wasn't the only one off-balance.
"Inara," he said, with something like a plea.
"Don't, I can't--I,"
His hand reached out to cup her chin. "Then I will," he said and lowered his mouth to hers.
Inara had thought a lot about what kissing Mal would be like, but she had never imagined this. She had imagined a roughness perhaps, a certain untutored passion, but not this explosion of sensation.
His lips were gentle against hers, nibbling sparks of pleasure. Her mouth opened in a squeak of surprise, which gave him the opening he needed to slip his tongue into her mouth. Heat and sweetness and a delicious bitterness mingled together. Mal's tongue swirled against hers like a hot cup of tea mixed with warm gold honey. He trembled against her, or maybe it was the other way around. Her hands fisted into the back of his shirt, but she still couldn't find a balance. Pleasure poured down her spine, and she would swear her toes curled. There was nothing untutored about it. It went on and on, and Inara's entire being contracted into a pinpoint of feeling, wet, yielding and aching for something more.
Mal was the one who pulled away. "Shoulda done that a long time ago," he croaked.
"I--" Inara slowly fluttered her eyes open and closed her mouth. Her world was spinning and her hands were shaking and there was nowhere for her to run. It was too much, and it was all Mal's fault. Thwap Pushing him away hard, Inara stumbled backward, her breathing too fast and loud. "How can you think of kissing at a time like this?"
Mal shook his head slightly. So he was disappointed, she was the one whose knees were wobbling. She had no sympathy whatsoever. "Life is short, Inara. Too damn short," he said. His hand swept across his collarbone as if to grasp something that wasn't there. "Shorter than it has any right to be."
She looked away then. "We need to concentrate on what we're going to do about River and Simon."
"Tianxia suoyoude ren dou gaisi," he spit, causing her to whip her head back around quickly. "I can't run forever." His hand formed a fist, and if he'd been standing a little closer to the wall he might have punched it. "I thought I could," he said. "Thought if I just kept pushing out--but, it doesn't work that way, I guess." His eyes pinned her, boring into her soul, and she knew he wasn't just talking about himself. "At some point, you gotta stop running. Gotta put an end to it."
He stepped forward, brushing his fingertips gently over her lips. "At some point, a body gets caught."
"Don't," she begged. "Just don't." Mal's hand fell to his side; he stepped back. She turned away, ignoring the ache in her chest.
