Happy New Year's Eve! It took me longer to post this chapter than I anticipated, but I'm here now, for better or for worse. I will shut up presently, and let you get to reading.

It picks up right where the last chapter left off...

Soundtrack - Together: "Embody Me" by Novo Amor, Bathing Beach - EP (2017)

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

WHOLE

Inara froze, mouth pressed to Mal's. Her insides turned sticky with regret. She pulled away. Silence thickened between them.

"I'm sorry," she murmured. "I shouldn't have-"

Mal stole the rest of her sentence, as he tugged her into him. Their mouths opened for each other, and the heat of his breath burned Inara from the inside out. It dizzied her, disorienting, too much all at once.

Mal kissed hard, urgent, like he expected to be struck down any moment. Inara matched him. She shook his jacket off, by way of invitation. He accepted, resting warm, callused hands on her shoulders.

Inara arched into him, as his hands traveled down her back, slipping underneath the diamond strands trailing from the neck of her dress. His thumbs hooked at her sides, pressing into the curve of her waist. Inara slid her hands up to the nape of his neck, to the soft, short down of his hair, and anchored herself there. All other points of reference had dissolved, down to the ground beneath her feet.

He broke them apart first. His breath gusted over her. His lips were reddened, pupils blown wide, cheeks flushed. Inara stared at him, and couldn't take in enough air no matter how she tried. Her lungs seemed to have stopped working.

She realized, dimly, that she was not in control. The piece of her mind that should have been kept separate and aware, always, had gotten caught up in the tide with the rest of her. There would be no coming back up to the surface.

There would be no coming back from this.

"'Nara." He swallowed. "You… we-"

"I know." Her thumbs rested on either side of his neck, feeling his pulse thud under his skin. "We should stop."

Mal nodded. He didn't let go of her, however. His mouth ducked toward hers, then drew away. When he clenched his jaw, a muscle in his neck twitched. Inara thought about kissing him there, where that muscle jumped.

She closed her eyes. As if that could solve anything. Mal's lips brushed hers, the barest of touches, and pulled back again.

"Can we trust the horses not to tell on us?" Inara whispered.

"I'll have a word with 'em." A smile curled his voice. "Make it worth their while."

Inara couldn't hold back a grin. "You're not above buying their silence with biscuits, then?"

"Hell, no."

She held her breath. "If I asked you to kiss me again…" She blinked up at him. "Could you say you were just following orders?"

He stiffened, tightening his grip on her waist. "Ain't nobody givin' or takin' orders here. We're just the two of us, our own selves. Forget all the rest."

She nodded. "Okay." Relief spread through her. Like a weight lifting, like something breaking.

And just like that, they quit resisting.

Inara ran her hands up through Mal's hair, as he trailed open kisses over her cheek, down the line of her jaw. His mouth met the jeweled choker around her neck. He grunted in frustration.

Inara pulled away, and undid the clasp. No sooner had she bared her neck than Mal bent forward, mouth grazing over her skin. He traced the slope of her shoulder, mapping her collarbone with kisses.

"So beautiful." His voice was so warm and open, Inara doubted he'd meant to say it aloud.

She kissed him, quick, before he could take it back. Before he could brick his wall back up, distance himself, and break the spell.

The events of that night had ripped Inara open. No doubt Mal felt the same. There was a target on his home, and Inara's father had put it there, and in that moment there was nothing either of them could do about it.

They were dousing their hurt with fire. But oh, how beautifully they burned.

Impatience sparked in Inara's stomach. She felt it in Mal, too, in the tense energy of his hands on her waist. She wrapped her arms around his neck, and lifted her hips, in a question.

He understood instantly. His hands cradled her thighs, to boost her from underneath. Inara jumped up. She wrapped her legs around Mal's stomach, and toed off her slippers. She was weightless, giddy, in his arms. He carried her across the barn, into his bunk.

His lips left hers as he set her down gently on the bed. As soon as he kicked his boots off, Inara seized her opportunity.

She grabbed a fistful of Mal's shirt, and pulled him down to join her, kissing across his jaw. A sliver of her training cracked though then, only because she let it. She varied the pressure of her mouth, down his throat, lapping at the hollow in the base of his neck. He moaned, and she flushed with pride.

The sound roughened in his throat. His hands ran up her sides, stopping just below her breasts, and he guided her down, to lay on her back. Inara was about to suggest he let his hands go where they clearly wanted to, before her dress interrupted. The strands of jewels dug into her back.

She pushed at Mal's chest. "Wait."

He scrambled backward, as Inara sat upright. She readjusted her dress, cursing it silently. It took a moment too long before she saw the panic on his face.

"Oh. God. I-" He turned away. "Tā mā de." He moved to stand up, but Inara grabbed his arm, and pulled him back down.

"Mal."

He wouldn't look at her. He stared at the far wall in wretched, blank horror.

She tried again, softer, "Mal." He shot his eyes to hers. "It was just my dress." She twisted, so he could see, and offered a smile over her shoulder. "It's made to be admired, and not much else."

"Oh." He let out a breath. He didn't move, staring intently at the floor.

"It's alright," Inara said. He clearly didn't seem convinced.

"No." He shook his head. "Nothin' about this is right."

Inara blinked hard. Her eyes were filled with him. The hard line of his jaw, the angles of his face in profile.

"We can't do this, Inara. You're-"

"I know," she interrupted, bitter. "Made to be admired, and not much else."

He frowned. "Ain't what I was gonna say."

"It's doesn't matter." Inara waved a hand. "It's the truth."

The truth. She could tell him. Who she was, or rather, who she was poised to become. It stabbed through her chest, from the inside out.

She sucked in a breath. "Mal, I have to-"

"You should go," he said, at the same time. Their words overlapped and tangled in the air.

"Oh." Inara bit down what she'd been about to say. "Do you want me to go?"

He looked at her with broken eyes. No. She couldn't tell him, not then. He'd suffered enough revelation for one night. For a lifetime.

"No," he said softly.

Inara weighed for a moment. Then, slow and heavy, she drew herself up to sit on folded legs. She undid the back of her halter neck. The dress spilled away from her, luminescent fabric pooling around her hips.

Mal's eyes widened, as Inara removed the modesty cups that covered her breasts. His mouth fell slack.

She reached up, to curl her fingers along his collar, and swallowed.

"I want to lie with you, Mal."

He blinked, frozen. She went on before he could argue, "This isn't the time. I know. But there will be a time, for us." There had to be. She had to believe it.

She saw that he did not.

"Right now, I just want to be close to you. As close as possible." She settled her voice, held herself still, consciously avoiding any technique, save for her eyes in his. "Do you want that, too?"

He nodded.

Inara's heart broke for the seriousness in him. His hands held firm by sheer will, as he undid the buttons of his flannel shirt. He pulled it off, followed by a plain tee.

A silver cross hung from a chain around his neck. Inara touched it, lifted her eyes to his.

"Belonged to my mama."

Whenever they'd discussed religion before, Mal had spoken with a certain distance, never in terms of I or my. The warmth in his voice now told Inara just how deep he held his faith inside him. Too sacred to translate into words.

She ran a hand across the expanse of his chest. She felt his heart beating close and quick underneath his skin. The heaviness of his shoulders, dense and solid, but all of him soft at the edges. All of him, whole and warm and real.

Inara pulled her dress down her hips, and kicked it away from her legs, leaving only a slip behind. She lay back onto the bed, pulling Mal's hand. He lay down with her.

Perhaps he wasn't one for speeches. But in the language of touch, he was more than eloquent. Inara heard everything, as he took her into his arms, pulled her into his chest, until their heartbeats aligned side by side.

The next moment he tugged himself away, inching back, breaking contact. Inara half-turned to him. "Mal-"

"Hush. Ain't goin' nowhere."

Inara felt a tug in her hair. Mal teased a jeweled pin out of her up-do, which had already come half-undone. Another pin followed the first. Inara hummed in approval. Mal released her curls, gentle and methodical, running his fingers through each lock of hair as he freed it, massaging her scalp.

On what must have been the twentieth pin, he let out a small half-laugh. "Darlin', you got more hair pretties than bones in a catfish."

His low, rumbly 'darlin' washed over Inara, lit up in every corner of her.

"You've never called me that before," she said without meaning to, half-drunk on his hands in her hair.

"Yeah, well." He cleared his throat. "Prob'ly best I don't."

"Why not?"

He was silent a moment. "Should never say your wishes out loud," he said at last. "'Cause then they won't come true."

Inara could hardly breathe. "I don't believe that."

"Just an old superstition." He pulled out the last pin, then finger-combed her curls, coaxing them into a state of fluffy anarchy.

"Well, I'm not superstitious," Inara said. "And my wish is to see the Universe. I don't mean the Core. I mean everywhere." Her voice climbed up out of her, expanding in her chest. "I want to meet people from all over. I want to see forests and deserts and oceans. And blue skies, like on Earth-that-Was."

"Shadow has a blue sky," said Mal, half-muffled in her hair.

"What's it like?"

"The sky?"

"The planet."

He walked his fingers up her arm, halting at the apex of her shoulder. "Don't reckon I could do it justice." His voice was threadbare. "It's the most beautiful place in the 'Verse."

The plans on her father's tablet came crashing back into her. Inara opened her mouth, to apologize, only to close it again. The moment passed, better off entrusted to the silence.

Mal rubbed her shoulder blade in a slow, even circle. Inara arched into his touch, with a keen. A request for his body against hers, all of him. His hand paused.

"We drew our line. I, uh… don't wanna make you uncomfortable."

Inara sighed. If only she could tell him just how comfortable she was with the human body's arousal response, the years she'd spent studying it.

"I won't be uncomfortable." She reached up, to pull at his hand. "I said 'as close as possible,' and that's what I meant."

He replied by pressing himself flush against her. A moan stirred in his throat. He slid an arm over Inara's waist and bent his head, to rest his mouth on the crook of her neck.

Inara shut her eyes, the better to feel him, to absorb his heartbeat. It beat in his wrist on her stomach, fingers splayed across her bare skin.

"It's your turn." Inara tapped his hand with her own.

"Turntawhat."

"To tell me a wish."

"No," he said, automatic, voice suddenly clear.

"Please?" Ever so slow, she shifted her hips against his, subtle enough to be a mere readjustment of her position. "Tell me."

Mal moved a hand to her hip, and squeezed. "Don't do that," he said, with a hint of a growl. "'Less you're aimin' to kill me."

"Then tell me your wish."

It was equal torture for her, truth to tell. The shape of him, firm against her lower back, set alight a want that burned from her center outward. Inara went still, and waited.

Mal sighed against her neck. "I wanna be a Captain someday. With my own ship, 'n all." His voice was low, resonating in Inara's own chest. "Just small-time merchant trade, small crew. Maybe take on a few passengers once in a while. We'd keep well clear of the Core, and the Alliance. No one to take orders from."

"Except you."

Inara felt his grin, like sunlight on the back of her neck. "Right. Except me."

"And what about me?" She asked it with a playful lilt, but her heart pounded in her chest. "Would I be let on your ship?"

"Sure, what the hell. You'll be our very own Ambassador. You can ride our pet unicorn, Mr. Pointy."

Inara swatted his arm, giggling. "Stop." She made her voice serious. "Don't make fun. It's a lovely wish. Promise me you'll hold onto it."

"Ain't never gonna happen."

"Just promise."

"Fine, Madam Ambassador. I promise." His hand crept over the bedspread, to find hers. His thumb traced the ridge of her knuckles. "Now you gotta make me a promise."

Inara lost her breath again. "And what's that?"

"Don't go work for the Alliance. You're too smart and kind and Buddha-lovin'. Don't fit the profile."

The words tore through Inara's chest. "I may not have a choice," she said softly.

"You always have a choice," said Mal, firm, matter-of-fact. "Now promise me, or I'll take mine back."

"Alright. I promise." Even as she said it, the words tasted empty. Her throat tightened. "Are you still planning to go back to Shadow?"

"No."

A numb relief spread through her. "Where will you go, then?"

He was silent a long moment. "I don't know."

Inara turned herself over to face him. She pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth, where his lips curled ever so slightly, always, even when he wasn't smiling. She sat upright. He freed her from his arms, and followed suit.

Inara dressed slowly. Mal watched, his shirts still crumpled at the foot of the bed. He didn't move until Inara lifted the halter neck of her gown. In an instant he was standing next to her, reaching out to take both halves of the clasp. Inara held up her hair as he fastened the dress at the back of her neck, fingers sure and steady.

She turned to him, and opened her mouth.

He shook his head. "Best we don't speak on it."

He found Inara's hand down at her side, and pulled it upward, coaxing it into a cup. He tipped a glittering handful of of her hairpins into it. Inara closed her fingers around them.

"Won't they wonder why you're all…" He gestured to her hair.

She shrugged. "Let them wonder."

Mal almost smiled. He cupped her face with his free hand. She leaned into his touch. He tilted her chin upwards.

He bent down and kissed her, with a patience he'd lacked before. Inara returned it, every ounce, and knew in the truest part of her that she would never be able to recreate this, not if she trained in the arts of intimacy for rest of her life.

It took everything she had to pull away. To carry herself out of the room, knowing Mal was behind her. Knowing he would follow her to the door, and not a step beyond it.

In the main aisle of the stables, Mal shrugged his flannel shirt on, leaving the buttons undone. Inara retrieved her necklace and slippers from the floor. Mal picked up his jacket. He held it out to Inara, jaw set hard.

"Snow's still comin' down fierce. You should take this."

She couldn't, and they both knew it. She shook her head. "I'll be fine. Thank you." She turned to leave, but took barely two steps before she turned back, the words tumbling out of her.

"I'm going to talk to my father. I'll convince him to not to go through with the attack."

Mal kept silent. She couldn't read his eyes.

Inara took a breath. "I'll make him realize he can't get away with it. Not without losing a daughter."

Still Mal said nothing, but his mouth softened. He nodded.

He followed her to the door, opening it for her stiffly, with a sense of ceremony.

"Mangalam," Inara burst, on impulse. She flushed at the hopeless inadequacy of the word. "It means good luck."

"You, too," he said huskily.

Inara looked away. Her throat was too full to speak. What else could she say? There was no script for them to follow. No convention that governed a goodbye between two people who should never have known each other in the first place. They stood close, but not touching.

She breathed in his warmth, one last time, and stepped out into the snow.

Phew. This chapter. Was so hard to write. It felt like juggling geese, trying to balance the tone and all. I have no idea if I succeeded, but at a certain point I had to stop poking at it, and just post it.

So, I know one of your New Year's resolutions is to support your local fanfic writers (-no? it's not? well, it should be) so to that end... pretty please review? I would love to hear any and all thoughts on this chapter! Meanwhile I'll be banging away on the next, and since I'm on winter break it hopefully shouldn't be too long before Chapter 19 is posted. Sending each of you all the shiniest wishes for the new year!