Hello hello, sorry I'm a bit behind my schedule here! I should come right out and say that I probably won't be able to stick to weekly updates, just for this coming month. Final projects and exams are upon me, I'm afraid. But for now, please enjoy this chapter!
CHAPTER SIX
UNRAVELED
03 - 14 - 2506
"Reporting live from the Capitol Square, our own Oriza Caleros brings you the latest on the Border, after some inclement new developments. Oriza?"
The Cortex display in Priestess Song's parlor flashed to the iconic shot of the enormous Capitol coliseum, its white stone a dull grey beneath the snow currently smothering most of Londinium's northeastern hemisphere. The field anchor nodded, one pink-gloved hand pressed to her earpiece.
"Good afternoon to you, Worth, and to our honorable viewers. This morning the newly-formed Independent Faction released their so-called 'Manifesto,' uniting extremist dissenters on over a dozen planets, among them Hera, Shadow, and Persephone. This is just two days after another attempted takeover of an Alliance peacekeeping base in Terr, on Hera."
A brief security footage clip played out, silent, of two dozen people in long brown coats bursting into a compound with rifles and clubs, unleashing chaos in blurred movement across the screen. Inara knit her brow, drawing closer, even as her stomach turned. Several bodies had dropped, both Independents and peacekeepers, when the feed cut back abruptly to the reporter in Capitol Square.
"Universal Relations Chancellor Deomar Sutherland has released an official statement, affirming that Parliament is confident in the success of its coming round of negotiations with planetary officials regarding the Unification process. Their course of action has not changed." She punctuated with a bob of her head. "Returning to you, Worth."
"Our gratitude, Oriza. And now, we turn to the latest in technology. A new line of fully emotive love bots rolls out this month-"
The screen flickered to black. Inara gave a small jump, and stood up. Priestess Song had slipped into the room and turned off the console without her notice, without a sound.
"I hope you weren't waiting long." When Inara shook her head, the Priestess gestured to the door, with a smile. "Shall we begin?"
Inara followed in Min's wake down the hallway. She brushed away lingering echoes of 'extremist dissenters' and 'negotiations' in her ears, in order to listen to the plan for their session that morning: a tour of the Center for Healing and Wellness, located in the lowest level of the House.
Outside the ornately-carved wooden door, Inara levelled her shoulders, and pressed herself up straight. Pulling a taut breath inward, she descended the stairs behind the Priestess, careful not to tread on the trailing hem of the woman's brocaded satin dress.
An enormous cavern stretched before them, full of soft, golden light. Lamps hanging overhead tossed their glow onto the stone walls, and cut diamonds into the channels of water which gurgled along the walkways. The bathing pools lay placid and clear, save a few occupied by trainees, talking in low voices.
"I encourage everyone to meet with our Practitioners often, not only when they have a specific complaint," said the Priestess as she led Inara through the baths. "Of course, for any serious injuries or illnesses, we must refer to the hospitals in Lu'Weng. But I hold that regular self-care, as well as mind-and-body awareness maintained through daily meditation, keep us alert to issues within ourselves before they become a grave threat."
They came to the well-lit area the far end of the cavern, divided by a series of half-walls. The Practitioners, half a dozen women dressed in light blue and white robes, bustled back and forth, in conversation with each other, or tapping on tablets. Each one paused to greet the Priestess with a bow as she went past.
Inara's eyes were pulled like magnets to the row of doors set into the back wall. Consultations and examinations took place in the private rooms, the Priestess explained in passing, and also served to house patients if they couldn't be moved.
"Such cases are very rare." Her voice reached Inara as if through layers of static. "But when it does happen, we're prepared."
Inara nodded. She fought the heaviness spreading through her. It was the same every time she came back to this place, and saw the doors carved from smooth, impassive stone.
"You were so young," everyone always said. "Too young to remember."
But it wasn't true. A part of her did. It came awake in the hollow of her chest, making every breath a conscious effort.
"It has not escaped my notice, Inara, that you don't visit the Center very frequently." The Priestess turned to look at her, for the first time since they'd descended the stairs. She arched her brow. "Maintaining the integrity of one's health is absolutely necessary in our work."
"Yes, Priestess," said Inara smoothly. "I've sought to make it a constant practice. I simply don't have any need to come here."
Priestess Song pursed her lips, and looked toward the private rooms. "I understand you have certain painful associations with this place," she said at last. "But you must overcome that. As Priestess, there can be no part of the House that you aren't comfortable in."
"Of course." Inara nodded. "I'm fine, truly."
Min's eyes held hers a moment longer, before she turned away, to lead Inara to another, smaller door off to the side. "Once a month I make a full check of the facilities. Our Head Practitioner shares with me any concerns or needs she may have, and together we review the medicine and herb stores."
She opened the door, and they stepped into a dark cubby of a room. The Priestess commanded the lights. A scant glow materialized along the edges of the ceiling, illuminating shelves full of jars and pots, Alliance-stamped boxes of immunization supplements nestled amongst bundles of dried herbs.
As Priestess Song listed off commonly requested supplements, Inara drifted toward a stack of dark brown jars, above the label 'Herbal Probiotic Ointment.' Distant memory sparked, warming the back of her neck. She picked up a jar, opened it, and breathed in.
Inara shut her eyes. With the suddenness of a dream the air shifted, and took on the weight of a woman's hands. Warm golden hands, wrapping Inara in a silk scarf and spinning her until she shrieked with joy. A smile, glinting in dark eyes, a voice murmuring praise over her toddler artwork.
Inara opened her eyes. She bit her lower lip, and turned the jar of ointment over in her hands. She thought, for some reason, of the stable boy. Blood beading along the scratches on his neck and ears, from the rough kiss of rosebush thorns.
"May I take one of these?" she blurted. The Priestess raised her eyebrows. Inara added, without thinking why, "My father's been complaining of sore joints…"
"Certainly." Priestess Song gestured to the small desk next to the wall. "Make a note on the Inventory board, and we'll inform one of the Practitioners before we leave."
Inara followed her instructions. The Priestess laid a hand on her shoulder, and Inara turned her head.
"Unless your father takes more concrete steps to reduce stress in his life, a simple herbal probiotic cream won't bring lasting change." Min's upward-angled eyes glinted, her irises almost as dark as her pupils.
Inara looked down at the pot in her hands. "I know." She looked back up at the Priestess. "But sometimes the gesture can do more good than the gift itself."
Min Song smiled warmly. "Spoken like a true Companion," she said.
/*/*\*\
Inara hesitated outside the door to her father's stables. The burnished clay pot weighed heavy in her hands.
"Honestly," she muttered through a sigh. "Just get it over with." She made herself open the door, and step through.
The air stuck in her throat, sour with a stench almost thick enough to touch. Inara coughed, lifting the back of her hand to her mouth. Nausea rolled through her stomach, but she kept walking, down the main aisle to the barn, toward the sound of metal scraping on cement. All the stable doors were flung open, the horses nowhere to be seen, no doubt turned out in their paddock.
"Um, hello?" Inara called. It came out more like a squeak.
Something clattered to the floor, followed by a muffled curse.
Inara reached the last stall, where she found Wesley bent over, picking a shovel out of the layer of muck at his feet. The handle, now slick with manure, he gripped in both hands, as he straightened up.
Inara's eyes widened.
Grime streaked his arms, up to his bare shoulders. He'd pulled off the upper half of his uniform, to tie the sleeves around his waist. Only a thin white undershirt remained. It clung to his skin, with a V-shaped shadow of sweat where it met his chest.
Inara was not at all unfamiliar with the male form. Madrassa trainees were cured of any tendency to blush at such things by age sixteen. But no visual aide had prepared her for a spectacle quite like this.
She fought the urge to look away, and met his eyes. They were a deep, thorough blue, a detail she had failed to notice until that moment.
"Hello, Wesley."
"Hi," he shot back.
"It seems I've come at a less-than-ideal time…" she started, uncertain. The smell had ebbed, only to return, just when she thought she'd adjusted. Her stomach rolled.
"Oh no, not at all." Wesley gave her a flat smile. "I'd offer you a seat, but-" He tossed a hand to indicate the straw and horse waste which coated the floor of the stall, and threatened to spill out of the wheeled hand cart beside him.
"It's alright." Inara took a few steps closer. "I won't stay long."
His eyes darted to the side, then back to hers. He leaned away slightly. "How can I help you, Miss Serra?"
"Actually, I hoped I might be able to help you."
As soon as the words left her mouth, Inara regretted them. Wesley turned away, to scoop up another shovelful of manure.
"Didn't mean to give the impression I needed any help," he said curtly.
"You didn't. But I found this…" She held up the pot. "Healing probiotic ointment. I thought of your encounter with the rosebush last week, and it struck me as something you could use, perhaps."
He turned back to her, and scoffed, "They weren't hardly nothin'. Most all healed up now, anyway."
"I'm glad to hear that." Inara set the pot on the edge of the stall. "But judging by our two previous encounters, you're more than a bit accident-prone." She smiled. "Perhaps it's best you take it, just in case."
Wesley's mouth curled at one corner. "You may not be wrong about that." He dug the shovel into the muck again, and tossed his head toward the ointment. "Thanks."
Inara's smile widened. "You're welcome."
Wesley's eyes stuck in hers, a moment too long. He dumped the shovel into the hand cart, clearing his throat.
"So, uh, you come here often?" He winced. "I mean, you live nearby?"
Inara raised her eyebrows. "I would've thought my outfit gave it away." All Companions-in-training from Madrassa wore the same beige linen tunic, with a golden cord knotted around the waist, to communicate their status to outsiders.
The stable boy gave her a blank look. "Gave what away?"
Inara's stomach flipped. He doesn't know. She hadn't considered she might have to explain to Wesley what Madrassa represented. Surely he knows what a Companion is, doesn't he?
Inara met his eyes. For the second time that day, impulse gripped her, tugging the words out before she could stop them.
"I attend school nearby. It's… a diplomacy academy." Inara gestured to herself. "This is our uniform."
Wesley looked the clothing up and down. "Shoulda guessed you were trainin' to be a politician." He smirked. "You're a good liar."
Inara's brow crinkled, before she realized he was referring to the two separate occasions she had covered for him, lying in order to divert the suspicion of his supervisor.
She smiled. "One might call it deception. I prefer the term discretion."
"They sound mighty similar though, don't they?" Wesley rested the shovel upright, leaning on the handle. "Judgin' by your affinity for politics, and the fact that you come here every week, I'm gonna take a wild guess that you're related to Councilor Zhi."
"He's my father."
A shudder rippled through Wesley's shoulders, so brief Inara decided she might have imagined it. She went on, "I'm permitted to visit him every Sunday, as my school is so close."
Wesley gave a slow nod. "Diplomacy academy. Huh." He turned away, to scoop debris from the corner of the stall. "You're gonna be, what? An Ambassador or something?" He turned back around, emptying the shovel into the cart.
"Something like that. And what about you?"
Wesley raised an eyebrow. "What am I gonna be when I grow up?"
"No, I mean- what brought you to Sihnon?"
He shrugged. "Nothin' in particular. I needed a job." He turned away, to fill the shovel. "Got an uncle livin' here, he set me up." He dumped the shovel into the cart, and muttered, "Weren't much left for me back home."
"Where is that?" Inara asked gently.
"Shadow."
Inara nodded. "I know of it. There's some unrest there, I've heard," she ventured, watching Wesley's face.
He let out a grim half-laugh. "You could say that."
Inara eyed him. "So. You left home, and journeyed all the way to Sihnon, to seek your fortune?"
"Yep." Wesley hefted the shovel in his hands, lifting up a heap of manure. "And whaddya know, I found it."
Inara laughed. It caught her by surprise, and she forgot to cover her mouth. Wesley grinned at her. His real smile struck Inara as more real, somehow, than other people's. It took over his entire face, dimpling his cheeks, crinkling his eyes. But something jarred him, and the smile vanished. He scratched his temple, turning away.
Inara's heart dropped to her stomach. Shǎguā. She shook her head at herself. "I'm afraid I must be going."
"So soon?" Wesley returned, mock-sweet.
Inara's smile stiffened. "I do hope you'll find some use for the ointment."
"I'm sure I will." Wesley dumped the shovel into the cart, and paused, to look her in the eyes. "It was real kind of you think of me."
"Oh, no." She waved a hand. "It was nothing, really."
He leaned the shovel against the wall. "They give you extra credit, at your diplomatical school, for charity and good works?"
Inara's mouth fell open. "No. I-" She stopped, and knit her brow. "Why do you assume I must have some self-serving motive?"
Wesley showed his palms. "I'm not sayin' that."
"Then what are you saying?" Inara crossed her arms.
"Look, forget it," he said, with some force, as he turned away. "Doesn't matter."
"Yes, it does." Inara's voice came out barbed. Something hot and irrepressible filled her quicker than she could push it down, pricking under her skin. "You don't believe I would speak to you unless there was something in it for me."
He stared at her, mouth hard. His response was unspoken, but unmistakable.
Would you?
"Believe it or not, I came down here because I thought you might like some company." Inara blushed, almost as if she were lying. Was she? "I see now I was mistaken."
"I'm sorry." The stable boy held perfectly still. His eyes probed hers. "I've offended you."
How astute of you to notice, Inara wanted to snap. She lifted her chin. "I'll just say this. If you can't accept one act of kindness, you're destined for a very cold and lonely life."
"Funny." He smiled. "That's just how I've always imagined a career in politics."
"Belittle it all you like, but I daresay you could benefit from a lesson or two in diplomacy."
"Could be that's true." He leaned an elbow against the wall, interlocking his fingers, and smirked down at her. "You offerin' to teach me?"
Against her will, Inara's training whirred in the back of her mind. It notated and catalogued the boy's closeness, the way he'd turned his whole body toward her, and how hers had responded in kind.
She swallowed, half-turning away. "I doubt I have the skill, nor the patience, to be your tutor."
"Shame." Wesley lifted himself off the wall, with a shrug. "Not like I could afford it anyway, I'd imagine. Unless you'd accept payment in fresh manure."
Inara resisted the urge to roll her eyes.
"Well." He grabbed the handle of the cart. "If the lecture's over, Ambassador, I oughta get on with my work."
"Yes. I should also, um… get on." Inara turned to leave, then paused, to toss a glance at him, over her shoulder. "I suppose we may see each other again, Wesley. That is, if you can manage to keep your job."
He pushed the cart out of the stall, toward the sliding doors on the back wall. "Duì shàng dì de xī wàng, Miss Serra." He tipped her a salute.
Only after she'd made it through the front entrance of the stables did Inara lose her composure, and collapse against the door. She tilted her head back, and shut her eyes. A long exhale shuddered out of her.
What in the name of Buddha was that?
Inara lifted herself off the door, and took another breath. She picked up her feet over the grass, letting the air wick the heat from her skin, as she made her way toward the speeder that would carry her back to Madrassa.
Whatever reason she'd come to the stables, to extend a friendly hand, or perhaps, some bet against herself, that no one could resist her charms once she decided to employ them, Inara left it all behind her. Along with Wesley's full-face grin.
She wouldn't make the same mistake twice.
translations:
Shǎguā - dummy, idiot (lit. foolish melon)
Duì shàng dì de xī wàng - Hope to God ("I sincerely hope so")
Another unfortunate interaction between our star-crossed duo. I promise things will shift between them... eventually. (When I write slow burn, I take it slooooow.) But I do hope it's an enjoyable ride! If you are enjoying it, I'd be so grateful to hear from you in a review. If not, I'd be equally grateful to hear why. I know I'm kind of a broken record here asking for feedback but I've noticed a good number of ghost readers on this story and I just want to know if you're liking it, or if not, how I can make it better. :) (And to those who have been reviewing - you are awesome and deserve all the shiniest things in the 'Verse.)
I'll post Chapter 7 as soon as life allows. Hope to see you there!