Easy Tickets

by mal4prez

Serenity has a few guests come aboard, but they're not the welcome kind.

8. Part 8 of 9

Easy Tickets: Part 8/9 (Chapters 22-24)

The Firefly verse belongs to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy,
and the rest. I'm just playing with it, and not making any money.

OK, I had to change the rating of the whole fic because it's easier than rewriting
or cutting things out. Yes, there's sex in this part. (And cheesiness and fluff – hey,
it's been a long dark fic, I've earned my break LOL!) It's not meant to be porn.
Necessary words are said. Necessary actions are taken. I just can't find a way to
cut it down to shiny cleanliness! Hope that's okay.

---

Chapter 22.

Although River had a way of moving silently, Book was aware of her entering the dining room. She crept up to the island in the galley, then stuck her nose around the far side of it to watch him. For a time, he let her keep to herself, and he continued with his business of fixing up a late lunch for the crew. She stayed where she was, but after a while started tapping a toe impatiently. Book figured that the girl was up to something, and it'd be best to get it out in the open.

"You could help, since you're here," he commented without looking up.

"Cooking's not what I do," she replied, sounding like that should have been obvious.

He smiled. "No, I guess not. You're very good at spectating, though, aren't you?"

She didn't answer, but leaned further around the island so he could see her whole face.

"Is there something I can help you with?" he asked.

"Why do bad things happen?" she asked, her tone matter-of-fact. Book paused in his cooking so he could study her face.

"What kind of bad things?"

"Everything dies, turns ugly. Bad people take happiness away. Good people lose out. Not fair. Weren't asking for it. Didn't deserve it. Why?"

Book set down the spoon he'd been stirring with. This girl never did ask easy questions. "River, sometimes there's no reason behind the things that happen to us. And even if there is, it does no good to go about looking to place blame."

Her voice was forceful. "But there must a way to make sure it doesn't happen anymore. It's not right."

"I wish that was the way of it," Book said sadly. "But there always will be grief, no matter how we try to prevent it."

"But why?"

Her eyes glistened wetly as they held his. Whatever she was really asking about, and he had no doubt that it was something specific, her feelings were strong. Book sighed. How does one explain the existence of pain to a young person? He wiped his hands on a towel, then came around into the dining room and slid a chair over next to her.

"Sometimes there is no 'why.' It's the reality of the 'verse we live in; no matter how we try to prevent it, bad things happen. We must do what we can with what is given to us, and when there is hardship, persevere." She frowned, she clearly didn't like that answer. "River – there is pain in life. But don't let that blind you to the things that are beautiful. Those are, by far, more powerful than any evil."

Book waited for her to speak, hoping that something he'd said would reach her and provide comfort. Her reaction was not what he expected, and a shiver went up his spine as she recited the words that were even now running through his head:

A time to kill, and a time to heal;
A time to break down, and a time to build up;
A time to weep, and a time to laugh;
A time to mourn, and a time to dance…

She finished, looking at him as if awaiting confirmation.

"Yes," Book said, trying to push aside his uneasiness at her eerie abilites. He should be getting used to them by now. "To be at peace with yourself and this life, you must accept these things and do the best you can with each of them."

"But… what if someone can't accept?"

"What do you mean?"

"Couldn't take the pain. Built walls. I've seen them. Walls trap the hurt deep down where it can't be seen. Is that… Is that all right? Is it safe?"

"Sometimes people need to do that," Book explained. "We need to able to separate ourselves from what hurts us, when it's too painful to bear."

"What if the bad things get trapped there, inside? What if the walls never open?"

Book cast about for an answer; River had a special aptitude for trying the limits of his beliefs and knowledge, but the worry in her eyes showed that this wasn't just idle curiousity. He needed to do better than some dry scholarly explanation.

"When pain gets buried and left too long," he said, "it can be like an infection. It festers. It can start to affect everything about the person, twisting them and making them change for the worse. That's one reason we need other people around us, friends and family whom we love. They talk to us – bring the dark places to light and help us heal. Even if it's difficult or painful, sometimes it must be done."

River's eyes focused in on herself, like she was making a decision. "So it needs to be opened up," she said.

"When the time is right." Book said. He studied her; it was a danger, giving advice on a matter this weighty without knowing the details. "Are you talking about someone in particular?" he asked.

"Many people," River replied distantly. She looked like she might have said more, but then she was distracted, and turned toward at the hatch behind her. A second later, Kaylee appeared.

"Hey, Shepherd," the mechanic said, "how's lunch comin'?"

"Almost finished," he replied with a gentle smile. "How are you doing?"

"Shuttle's all fixed," she said cheerfully. Book wasn't sure if she had deliberately mistaken his meaning, choosing to deflect the question away from herself. River smoothly stepped over to take a seat next to Book, and leaned toward him.

"Infection," she whispered. "Not festering, but it will." Then she sat back in the chair, looking at him with her face set in know-it-all conviction.

Kaylee spoke before Book could reply to River. "We'll be missin' some folks for lunch," she said. "Zoë and Wash took the new guy out to get his stuff, and the captain'll be busy gettin' refueled."

Book got up with a nod and returned to the galley, thinking hard on River's words. He could easily believe that she was right about Kaylee, but the mechanic continued on like she hadn't a care in the world. "Hey, River. Ain't seen you much since… well, you know." Kaylee shrugged and sat at the table. "I heard you did some playin' in the engine room."

"Didn't break anything!" River protested.

"I know. I didn't mean that. You did real good. You kept the bad guys away from the captain without having to..." Book watched as Kaylee groped for words, then she just smiled and continued. "It was real smart how you did it. You handled yourself well."

River turned to glance at Book, one brow arched as if to say See? Then she turned toward the hatch again, just as Simon came in.

"Where is he?" River demanded.

"Who?" Simon replied.

River tipped her head, as if Simon was a dope for not knowing who she meant. "Jase. Coming to lunch?"

"Oh. I don't…. I don't think so," Simon said. "He's recovering quickly, but I don't think he's ready. I helped him get cleaned up and took him breakfast, and he's in his own cabin now. He really needs rest more than anything."

Book watched as Simon sat down at the table, and he saw how the doctor's eyes were repeatedly drawn toward Kaylee. Simon took care of all his patients, but, in this case, one in particular was occupying him. Book smiled as he took a large bowl of stewed protein to the table.

The only other addition for lunch was Jayne. The mercenary kept to himself, just shoveled food into his mouth. The conversation was light. It seemed the food and chatter weren't enough to entertain River, and she slipped away from the table before long.

.*. .*. .*.

River wandered into the passenger dorm, moving slowly. She felt oddly timid. But she knew where she needed to go; she felt a trickle of familiar images coming from one of the rooms. They drew her forward despite her nerves.

She grabbed the ladder in front of Simon's room in one hand and leaned through his door to be sure it was empty, although she knew Simon was still up in the dining room, having lunch with the others. Then she pulled herself back and stepped onto the bottom rung. Two more steps up, then she was high enough to peek in the barely open door of the room above Simon's.

It was empty of everything but the bed, which Jase was sitting on crosswise with his back against the wall. He was dressed in a dark blue button-down shirt borrowed from Simon, which was too big and looked all wrong with his torn and faded jeans and bare feet. His left arm was folded against his body in a sling, and he looked all cleaned up, his face free of dirt and hair damp from washing. He wasn't doing anything, just staring blankly at the space in front of him.

River made a note to let Simon have it for putting Jase in an upstairs room. Her brother must be very preoccupied to do something so careless – it wouldn't be easy for Jase to come and go. But she'd do that later, she had another task now.

She reached out and pushed the door open a bit more. Jase looked up at the sound.

"Oh – hi," he said when he saw her face low in the doorway, and he started to get up.

"No. Sit!" River snapped.

He blinked at her sharp tone, surprised by the order, but he slid back to lean against the wall again.

"You missed lunch," River told him, as if he didn't know.

"I wasn't sure…" He looked down at his lap. "I mean, no one came by and I dunno if I'm allowed to just walk round…"

"Why wouldn't you be allowed?"

He looked at her with the faintest hint of a frown, like he was wondering if she was making fun of him.

"I tried to shoot your captain."

"Lots of people do. He used to it."

He couldn't hold back a small smile at her answer, and she liked how it lightened his face. She climbed the rest of the way up the ladder and slid through the open door into his room. His smile faded as he watched her; he was good at blanking his expression. She'd never have been able to tell what he was thinking just by looking at him.

"We goin' back to Niflheim?" he asked.

River stayed by the door, trying out her nails between her teeth to see which would be best to chew. "We're there now." She thought about it. "I mean, here now. I mean…"

He didn't notice her confusion, just looked down at the bed beside him, his right hand plucking at the cover. "I'm goin' off with some security folks, right?" He asked it like he didn't really care. "Gettin' locked up or somethin'?"

She dropped her hand from her mouth, deciding she didn't actually want a nail to chew on. "No. Going with Bucky." She chewed her bottom lip instead.

He didn't answer, didn't move a muscle, but River felt his relief. It was so overpowering that she had to grip the doorway to hold herself up until the brunt of it passed. When she looked at him again, he still hadn't moved. She took a few steps into the room, staying close to the wall, continuing until she was standing straight across from him. By then, his relief had started to change over to doubt.

"You sure?" he asked. "You sure he wants me to go with him?"

"I'm sure. But that's not all. I need to tell you more about him."

"Look - I know that he's… I think that he's really my Pa," he said. "But he left me. A long time ago. There's no reason for him to come lookin' for me now."

"Didn't mean to leave – it was… it was a mistake." She continued chewing her lip for a second, thinking and gathering words. Her eyes wandered the room while she tried to piece it together. "You don't need to worry. I checked him out – looked close. Very close. There's a gap. He went away… for a while, no reason to stay. But didn't twist. Never broke. Some shadows, but walls are translucent." She scratched her forehead, wrinkling up her brow. It was so hard to explain things like this. "Mostly translucent," she continued. "Where it matters. Inside is strong, stable. Down deep."

Jase frowned at her.

She tried again. Simpler this time. "He's good. Safe."

He was still frowning. Of course, he wouldn't know to believe her. But it didn't matter if he did or not; he'd figure it out himself eventually. Besides, she knew that Bucky wasn't really what she was here for. That was just an excuse. Something to talk about.

She hesitated, then quickly, so she couldn't stop herself, stepped across the room and slid onto the bed. She sat against the wall next to him, on his right so she wouldn't bump his bad arm. He shifted, moving away from her.

"Does it hurt?" she asked.

He glanced down at his shoulder, started to shrug but he stopped when it pained him. "A little."

He was looking down at his lap. River turned to face him, reaching out to almost touch the healing bruise on the corner of his mouth. "How's this?"

He pulled his face away. "Fine," he answered shortly.

River saw his memory, and it made her press her lips together angrily. He'd gotten that bruise because he'd listened to Kaylee. And because he'd spoken Chinese in front of Ray.

"Bucky won't do that," she said.

Jase looked up at her.

"Trust him," she said. "He'll take care of you. Make you grow up true. Eat, sleep, go to school, learn."

His look of disgust was clear, and it made her laugh. He could be expressive when he let himself.

"You shouldn't think that, it's fun. Science, math – how the verse works. Helps you understand lots of things. Beautiful things. Biology and chemistry and physics. And there's reading – literature and languages. History is bad, though. Too much spin. No right answers."

He looked down again, embarrassed that he didn't know some of those words. "You know a lot of stuff, huh?"

"I do." River looked at her hands for a second, his shyness rubbing off on her, then she decided that this was silly, being scared when she knew he was thinking the same thing she was. Down deep he was, anyway.

"I know you want to do this," she said, and leaned toward him. He moved away, but couldn't get far with no healthy left arm to catch himself. She caught up, pushed back the hair that fell forward from behind his ear, and placed a soft kiss on his lips.

"Oh," he said, staying still as she sat back down. "I don't… I hope you don't think…" He gave up trying to explain. His hair hung over his face again, but River could see he was blushing. Suddenly she felt embarrassed too, and her own mind clouded up with too much doubt to see through. What if she was wrong about him? Worse – what if she'd done it wrong?

Before she could talk herself into too much agony, he moved closer to her. This time his lips found hers, and stayed there. River closed her eyes and experimented, opening her mouth just a little, and he did too. She felt his warm breath, inhaled it and tasted a hint of the same toothpaste that she and Simon used. Then she felt the warm silky touch of his tongue on her bottom lip. She opened her mouth more, and let her tongue touch his.

It was slow and awkward and strange, and it made her dizzy. It was a good dizzy, and she let herself relax into it, bringing her hand up to his cheek. As soon as she touched him, he pulled back. Not far, just enough so he could talk.

"I… I ain't never done this," he said.

"Kissed?"

He nodded. "Am I doin' it right?"

She stroked his cheekbone with her thumb. "Perfect." She started to pull him close again, but paused with her forehead against his. "I mean, I think so."

"Think so?"

"First for me, too."

He smiled in relief. "Well, you're real good at it."

She smiled back. "I'm deeply intuitive."

"What's that mean?"

"I'm good at it."

"Mm-hmm."

The next kiss was less awkward, and his hand slid up her back. She moved her own hand down his cheek to his neck, feeling the shiver in his mind when her thumb stroked a certain spot just below his ear. She decided she needed to know more about that.

She pulled her mouth away from his, but trailed kisses along his jaw so he wouldn't think she wanted to stop. When she reached that place under his ear, he tipped his head aside and the shiver in his mind returned, this time running all through his body. She could read it so clear it made her own body shiver too.

River turned more toward him, shifting her legs so they lay bent across his lap, and she nestled into the space under his right arm. She took her time about finding all the other good places on his neck, and her hands tangled in his soft hair. When she was finished, she returned to his mouth for another kiss, and she thought they might both have a natural talent for this. They certainly were getting it down quickly.

After a bit, he did some neck exploring of his own. She thought she'd have to make a special effort to let him know where her shivery spots were, since he couldn't read her mind, but he figured it out. She happily quit thinking.

Through a pleasant haze, River became aware of Simon approaching.

"Āi yā!" she gasped, and pulled away from Jase. She hopped off the bed and took two light steps to the door. Quietly she slid it shut, but stayed there to listen. Book was at the base of the ladder, asking a question. Simon's reply was indistinct, his voice carrying up through the floor.

River exhaled in relief when they soon went away again. She left the door shut and went back to the bed, sitting in the middle of it facing Jase, her knees folded under her.

"Simon is such a pain," she said with a small eye roll. "So uptight. He'd be feng le about this."

She immediately regretted saying it, because Jase looked at her with eyes wide in shock. "You shouldn't talk bout him like that. He's a doctor. And if he don't want you in here with me, then – "

"It's all right," she told him, and picked up his right hand. "He's just my brother. It doesn't matter if he approves." She caressed his fingers, one by one, wondering if hands had shivery spots.

Apparently so. He was watching the movement of her fingers on his. It distracted him. "But…" he stammered, "he mended me."

She smiled brightly, letting her pride in Simon show. "Yes, he's a very good doctor. But I told you that already, remember?"

He looked up to her eyes. "That really was you? Flyin'?"

"Wasn't really flying. Grav was shut off."

"Grav?"

"Makes up be up. Kaylee told you about it, in the dockyard shop." She inched closer, leaned in, and kissed his cheek.

"Oh – right. I forgot." He turned his face away and she felt his doubt. He was self-conscious, and hesitant to kiss her again, as much as he'd liked it. He pulled his hand out of hers. "Guess I need schoolin'. I don't know much."

"You're very smart."

"No I ain't. Never have been."

She sat back on her heels. "Very smart!" she insisted impatiently. He didn't answer, and she saw that he really didn't understand.

"You were nine when she died, right?" She asked.

He looked up, his mouth open in disbelief. "Who?"

"Your Ma."

"How do you – "

"Never mind. Nine, right?"

"Yeah."

She looked down at his chest, and placed her hand over his heart. "Haven't been alive in here since then. Still nine."

He looked at her hand, then up at her face. He looked afraid, but all he said was, "You're kind'a weird."

"Not the point. Kept yourself safe. In here…" She pressed her palm firmly to his chest, then raised the hand to his forehead. "…and in here, in your mind. Locked away so you wouldn't get twisted up like the others. You're smart. Not stupid, just hiding."

She let her hand wander down the side of his face, studying the green eyes that stared into hers, trying to stay distant but starting to crack. She'd got through, just a little. "How d'you know?" he asked her in a whisper. "How d'you know bout it?"

She took his hand again and guided it to her own heart.

"In here," she said, barely above a whisper, "fourteen."

He spoke quiet too, like they were talking about something secret. "What happened?"

"People hurt me. Mean people. Couldn't hide my mind like you did. They got in. That's why I'm weird. I hid my heart, though."

"Why'd they hurt you?"

She still held his hand against her heart, stroking the back of it with her thumb as she thought.

"I don't know. Wanted to change me. Don't understand why." She looked up at Jase again. His eyes were shining, tears in them, tears for her. "But Simon got me away from them, and the captain protects me now. I'm getting better. You will too."

He studied her a bit longer, then looked at her hand over his. He smiled, then leaned forward to put his mouth by her ear. "You're not weird," he whispered.

His breath tickled her, gave her goosebumps. She pulled back enough to look in his eyes again. "Yes, I am. Don't have to pretend, I know." She smiled, to let him know it really was okay.

"Well, then, I like how you're weird."

That made her smile more, and she raised a hand to push his hair back behind his ear. "I like you too," she said, then she kissed him once, real small, just a soft peck like the first time. "You can come out now," she told him. "It's safe here."

She liked how his eyes got warmer when he smiled. He believed her – at least, he really wanted to. He bent over her neck, kissed right where neck changed to shoulder. That was a very good spot. Then she felt the warm hand over her heart slide to the side a bit and down.

"This okay?" he asked, his breath warming her skin.

She answered by pulling his mouth up to hers.

A while later, River was curled up in Jase's lap, resting her head against his good shoulder. She had one arm wrapped around his back, the other tracing small circles over the front of Simon's borrowed shirt. They were taking a break, just holding and thinking. River felt more awake than she had in a long, long time, in a boneless relaxed sort of way. She sensed echos of the same feeling in him, but there was still a part held away, far out of reach. Like the Shepherd had said, it was an infection, and it had to be cleaned out.

"Tell me about it," she said.

"What?"

"About your Ma, and the apple tree."

He didn't answer for a few seconds. Then, softy, "I get the feeling you know about all that already."

She smiled. "I want to hear it anyway. And everything that came after."

He was quiet for a while, then he asked, "How exactly do you know?"

She wasn't sure how to answer, and took her time thinking about it. But before she could explain, he asked, "You an angel?" Then he laughed uncomfortably, as if he hoped she wouldn't take him seriously. But she saw that in his mind he was serious, at least a little bit.

"Maybe I am."

He kissed her again, slow and patient, taking his time. His arm tightened around her waist, holding her close.

"You ain't like any angel Ma ever talked bout," he said after a time, his lips moving against hers.

She resisted the distraction. "Tell me about her."

He sighed, and tipped his head back against the wall. She didn't need to be a reader to understand his reluctance; he didn't want to go back to those times, to the nightmares that followed. He wanted to stay in the right now, in this moment that was the first he'd been really in for nearly half his life.

"Please," she whispered. She wasn't going to let him keep this dark place of hurt trapped inside.

She waited, and eventually he started talking. He told her the story she already knew, told it with a quiet voice and a blank face, like it was just some overheard tall tale that had nothing to do with him. After a while, River let the words pass over her, closing her eyes and pressing an ear against his chest where his voice rumbled against the steady beat of his heart. In his mind, she could hear his Ma singing, could see the clear blue sky and brightly colored trees. Even while he told her about the dead brown years that followed the loss of his Ma and his home, about life in the city with Ray, she could see those precious days stored up in a safe place deep inside him.

When he finished, they sat still for a long time. He was afraid, nervous, while he waited for her to say something. It needed to be something good, she knew, something to let him know that he would be okay now. But she couldn't figure out what. She felt him start to worry, wondering if she was changing her mind about him, or if maybe she'd fallen asleep, not at all interested. Why would she be interested? I shouldn't have said anything. Should have kept my mouth shut. No matter how nice she asked…

She had to do something. She lifted her head to look at him, hoping the words would come, but her attention was caught by the pulse at the base of his throat. She had to pause to kiss him there.

"You have a pretty neck," she said after she was done.

She didn't think about it – the words just came out. If they surprised her, they caught him completely off guard. He gave a short embarrassed laugh. "I guess you really are weird."

"You do," she insisted, and looked at his face. "Eyes too."

He blushed and turned away from her scrutiny. "Stop it."

"Beautiful face. And hair." She combed her fingers through it. "Silky. Needs a trim, but so soft."

He was getting to be bright red. "I ain't kiddin', cut it out."

"You don't think so?"

He didn't look at her while he answered. "I ain't seen myself in a while. Not really, not like in a real mirror."

"Didn't have a mirror?"

He shook his head. "Ray had one for shavin', kept it with his stuff. He didn't like it when I got in his stuff."

She saw the images that came unbidden to his mind when he said that, and she felt his thoughts cower away from the memories. She put her hand on his cheek and turned his face back to her. "You'll be happy when you see. You're handsome."

He smiled, embarrassed, but still wouldn't meet her eyes. He started to say something, then stopped and said "Shut up" instead.

"You can say it the other way – bì zuĭ."

He finally looked at her, smile fading and eyes questioning, and she explained.

"Can speak it whenever you want now. Nothing wrong with a language. Nothing wrong with how you look. Nothing wrong with you. I see. I see what's inside, and it's good."

"You don't know what you're – "

"Don't have to hide. Never again. Think about your Ma and sing her songs whenever you want."

Telling her his story hadn't done it, but hearing that did. River felt him start to crumble and she pulled him close, letting him bury his face against her shoulder while he cried. Years of held back grief needed to come out. She couldn't fix it all, but this much she could do.

She let him cry for a while, then she pushed his head back from her shoulder so she could kiss the bad feelings away.

.*. .*. .*.

Translations
āi yā: damn
feng le: crazy
bì zuǐ: shut your mouth

---

Chapter 23.

Kaylee turned away from the open panel when she heard River's light footsteps coming toward the engine room. The girl arrived with a hop; she was positively aglow. Kaylee was relieved to set down her wrench – her own thoughts were weighing heavily on her, no matter how she tried to focus on her work.

"What's goin' on?" she asked, smiled wide to outwardly match River's obvious cheer. The girl plopped to the deck next to her, teeth showing in a broad grin, too excited to speak. But she flipped her hair back over one shoulder and casually lifted her chin.

Kaylee caught on; she leaned in to look closer. What she saw served to finally distract her from her down-heartedness.

"Wŏ de mā! You got yourself a hickey!"

It wouldn't have seemed possible, but River's grin got bigger as she nodded several times. Kaylee pushed more of River's hair aside to check the other side of her neck.

"Shén shèng de gaōwán – you got two! Jase?"

The answer was another bright-eyed nod.

"The pretty eyes got you, huh?"

River's animated sigh spoke volumes.

"If he was a little older, you and me'd be havin' a fight right bout now," Kaylee teased. "There might'a been hair pullin'."

"Oh, Kaylee!" River had to hug the mechanic in her excitement. Kaylee just laughed, feeling giddy at River's happiness. She returned the hug, then pushed River back.

"Now - spill it. I want details, and don't be missin' a one of em."

River's mouth dropped open to start, but she didn't know what to say.

"Okay, you silly goose, start with somethin' easy – did ya like it?"

"Āi yā! Kaylee! I hear you think about it, and Jayne and Zoë and Wash and… everyone! But I didn't know…" She raised in her shoulders in a little shudder that expressed more than words could have.

"Where were ya?"

"In his bunk."

Kaylee's eyes widened. "On the bed?"

River nodded.

"River, did you – "

"No! Not ready for that."

"Not ready? You're almost eighteen. My first time was – "

"He's not ready. Too hurt, needs time." River smiled. "But he wanted to."

Kaylee gave her a narrow-eyed look. "Were you diggin' round in his mind?"

River's smile turned to a grin. "No. Well, yes, but… sitting in his lap."

Kaylee slapped River's arm and howled with laughter.

.*. .*. .*.

The guards at the Skuld compound eyed Zoë with hostility, which wasn't unreasonable after the way she'd come busting through here two days ago, waving her gun and making off with a transport. Bucky shooed her back into the shuttle, something she normally wouldn't have taken kindly, but in this case she didn't mind. She'd prefer to stay to have a palaver with Wash.

She paused for a moment, watching from the darkness inside the shuttle to make sure the man made it through all right. Bucky did some quiet talking, then there was a round of handshakes and the guards backed off and let him go on his way.

Zoë went to the cockpit. Wash was sitting in the pilot's seat still, one foot wedged up against the control board, chewing a thumbnail and looking thoughtful.

"Bucky's in," she said.

"No problems?" Wash asked, dropping his foot to the deck and spinning the chair partly toward her.

"Not a one."

"Oh. Good."

Wash sat still, looking away from her. He clearly knew what was on her mind, and didn't want to get into it.

"We gotta work it out sooner or later," Zoë said.

"Do we really have to? Can't we just do the pretending thing? Because I don't have any problems with not fighting– "

Zoë shrugged. "No make-up sex."

"Good point."

Wash took a deep breath and turned his chair to fully face her. "All right," he said in resignation. "Have at it." He crossed his arms and looked at her glumly.

She cleared her throat. Truth was, she wasn't too keen on getting into this either, but it had to be done. She went to settle in the co-pilot's seat, taking time to gather words, though she'd already practiced this in her mind. It wasn't as easy as she'd pictured it.

After she sat for a bit, unable to get started, Wash asked, "So… were you going to say something? I'd really like to get this over with."

"Wash, I – "

"Because getting yelled at by my wife isn't the funnest thing. I don't exactly look forward it. I don't offer you my opinion – say, for instance, my take on the condition of, oh, something like a spacesuit – just so I can get told to shut up."

"No, I – "

He interrupted her again, his voice rising. "I don't have military training, you know. I was never taught to turn off my brain just because someone with a higher rank tells me to do it."

"I understand – "

"And I wasn't trying to stop you from going into vacuum for my own personal entertainment. I really believed you could have been killed. And… I don't care if you're a … an eighteen star general with a big hat and lots of…" he waved his hands over his chest, "… shiny medals and ribbons and things. Don't ever tell me to sit back and watch you die, because I won't do it."

Zoë dropped her head; she couldn't respond to that. Even if she'd tried, she wouldn't have gotten more than a few words in before he continued, pounding a finger on the control board.

"I do have some expertise with things like spacesuits. Military rank or not, I know what I'm talking about." He pointed to himself with his thumb. "Smart guy with the technology here. Real smart. Worth listening to."

"I know, honey."

"Well, maybe you should keep that in mind next time around!"

"I will."

His mouth dropped open, but then he snapped it shut and glared at her until he thought of something else to say.

"I'm really, really mad at you."

She nodded her agreement.

"And – Zoë?"

"Hmm?"

He still sounded mad, but his words made her smile a little. "I really needed to yell at you, and it works much better for me when you don't yell back."

"I imagine so."

"Good. Thank you." Wash leaned back in the chair, starting to look a little calmer. Then he glanced at her hopefully. "Are we done now?"

"Almost. I gotta have my say."

Wash shifted, looking a mite uneasy now that he'd be the one taking the lecture, and he'd have to take it in good grace just to match her. Once he got himself comfortable, he nodded and gave a bring-it-on wave of his hand. Zoë took a deep breath, and finally got the words out.

"Yesterday, I was talkin' to Mal about some stuff, and… I guess I've been thinkin' on how glad I am that we… I'm glad for what we got, you and me. I hope you know it."

Wash looked confused. "Um… aren't you supposed to be doing the dressing down thing? Something about obeying orders?"

"Well…" Zoë cleared her throat. "I may have gotten a little carried away. Like you said, you know about spacesuits, and I wasn't even listenin'. Anyhow, we ain't in the military, and we are married. That takes gettin' used to for me, and I guess I ain't used to it yet. Not all the time."

"So… you're saying…" He paused expectantly.

"Sorry," she said softly.

"What was that?"

She raised her voice. "I'm sorry."

Wash looked a little shocked, but he recovered quickly.

"Do I get the make-up sex now?"

.*. .*. .*.

"Open-mouth?"

"Of course!"

"Tongue?"

Blushing smile, nod.

"Kissin' below the neck?"

"No!"

"Touchin' bove the waist?"

Sigh. "Yes."

"Below?"

Frown. Head shake.

"Clothes on?"

"All clothes on."

"So you were just neckin'."

"Necking." River tried the word out and thought about it. "Yes, we were necking."

"For how long?"

Eyes rolled. "I forgot to check the clock."

"Ha-ha. So - did'ya get all shivery?"

"Shivery. Weak. Oh, he was really good at it. First time for him too."

"So he's a natural?"

"Mmm. Natural."

"What in the world are you two up to?"

Kaylee and River looked up, startled, as Simon entered the engine room.

"We could hear you all over the ship," he continued with a hesitant smile. "What's so funny?"

"River and I was just havin' some… girl talk."

"Oh, right," Simon replied. "Something I don't get to hear about, I'm sure."

"Nope," Kaylee said with a smile at River, "I'm thinkin' it's best you don't."

River nodded agreement as she stood up. "Couldn't take it."

But River didn't get away clean. She was heading toward the hatch when Simon grabbed her shoulder, and his eyes focused on her neck. "River… what is…" He repeated Kaylee's earlier movement, pushing River's hair back, but his reaction to what he saw was quite different.

"Is that a... hickey?"

"Learned about necking," River replied happily, seeming determined to ignore Simon's disapproval. "Jase too. Taught each other."

"You were kissing someone who tried to take over the ship?"

She frowned. "Didn't have a choice."

"He tried to kill the captain!"

"Not his fault!"

"But you're just… you can't do that! I… I won't let you go near him again."

"Won't be able to anyway. He's leaving." She sighed sadly.

"Good!"

River switched from sad to angry in a hurry. "You're jealous. I get kissed, you don't!"

"That's ridiculous!"

She sighed in mock pity and teased him. "Poor Simon! Can't get anyone to kiss him."

"Pardon me, but I have important things to do! Like look after you, which is taking up more and more of my time!"

River rolled her eyes and gave him a know-it-all look. "Tell yourself that if it helps." She walked out of the engine room, her head back as she stubbornly refused to hide her neck.

"You are so annoying," he said to her retreating back.

"You are so repressed!" she yelled back.

Simon shook his head and started to follow River, but Kaylee stood up and grabbed his arm. "Leave her be, Simon."

"I can't let her do this!"

"Why not? She's almost eighteen. It's natural for her to be learnin' to kiss."

"No it's not!"

"Didn't you ever make out when you were a teen?"

"Well, sure… but… I never let anyone bruise me."

"Neckin' is a part of bein' that age. It's normal. It's how ya learn."

"She is not a normal teenager."

"And she'll never be a normal grown-up if you keep her locked up, if you go and… make her feel all dirty about nothin' but a little kissin'."

"Kissing – maybe. But getting marked like she's some common hussy is not acceptable behavior for my little sister."

Kaylee self-consciously raised a hand to her own neck. "Hussy? You think a few li'l hickies means a girl's a hussy?"

"Well, only the… you know, the loose girls ever got..." Simon hesitated at Kaylee's expression, realizing that she was personally offended. He tried to back up. "I didn't mean… in general. It was just… where I went to school…"

He lost track of what he was saying when he saw Kaylee's eyes narrow. She approached him looking so angry that he backed away until he hit the bulkhead. But she didn't give him a piece of her mind like he expected; she placed her hands on his chest, then ran them up to his shoulders with a confident familiarity that completely caught him off guard. She leaned into him, and suddenly he had a good idea of what she was planning to do. He grabbed her elbows, meaning to push her away, but she gripped his shoulders tight, holding him against the wall with surprising strength, and then he felt her breath on his neck.

The past few days had pushed Simon about as far as he could go; he didn't have the strength of will to refuse this. She found the gap where the top button of his shirt was undone, softy kissing the hollow above his sternum, and his hold on her arms loosened. Tingles ran up his spine and his head tipped back of its own accord as her soft lips moved up his neck, pausing near his adam's apple before moving to the side. She slid a hand slowly up the other side of his neck, working her fingers into his hair and taking hold, and she tilted his head to give herself room to work.

Simon's eyes fell closed and he lifted his chin more, letting Kaylee do as she would. It'd been so long since he'd had any physical contact that wasn't the impersonal touches of his profession or the chaste, comforting hugs of his sister. Turning against his government and abandoning his career and his home hadn't exactly done wonders for his sex life. During the long, lonely years when he'd been trying to rescue River, he'd often longed for physical comfort, but he needed to feel a connection to the woman he was with before he could let his guard down.

He could never stomach casual sex. He'd tried once…

He cut off his thoughts, trying not to remember. He wasn't about to let a night of drunkenness and a really bad decision interfere with what was happening now. Kaylee was different – he could trust her. Maybe even stop worrying for once and let himself feel good.

It wasn't like she was giving him much choice. Her increasingly insistent mouth on his neck and her body lightly brushing against his made him turn to jelly, his breath catching in his chest, his knees weakening, and wordless little sounds escaping from his open mouth. In truth, he relished giving in, trading control for pure sensation. His hands on her elbows opened, his palms just lightly touching her bare skin, then slowly sliding up to the edge of the cap sleeves of her shirt. Lightly he gripped her arms; gently he pulled her closer.

"Kaylee," he gasped when he felt her teeth scrape against his skin.

She released the suction of her mouth on his neck, and for a few seconds stayed close to him. Her forehead lightly grazed his cheek as she raised a hand to wipe his neck dry. Then she stepped back, shaking his hands off her arms and leaving him feeling cold.

"There," she said cheerfully. "Now you can't go givin' River a hard time."

Reality returned with a shock. Simon lifted a hand to his neck, then pulled it away and looked at it, half expecting to see blood.

"What did you…?" he asked.

Kaylee stuck her tongue into the corner of her mouth thoughtfully as she leaned forward again to check her work.

"That'll darken up real nice. S'about time you got yourself a love bite..." She leaned back and grinned wider, "…Doctor Hussy."

The shivers in Simon's body had been replaced by the heat of humiliation, pleasure turning to something like nausea. It was a familiar sensation, but he'd have never thought that Kaylee would make him feel like this. And everyone would know. The whole crew would know how she'd found his weakness and made him look like a fool.

"A love… ?" he asked himself, and he remembered what they'd been talking about before. River's neck.

"A mirror… I need a mirror!" He stuttered, then held a hand over his neck as he dashed out of the engine room and down the corridor.

.*. .*. .*.

Kaylee watched Simon scurry away. On the inside, half of her was jumping up and down. She'd only meant to trick him enough to teach him a lesson; she'd hadn't expected such a reaction. Simon had melted. She'd made him melt! Kaywinnet Lee Frye had reduced the very proper Doctor Simon Tam to a puddle of whimpering need.

But the other half of her mind was a heavy weight that kept her from doing the little hopping twirl the moment deserved. She'd had chances with Simon before. She'd spent plenty of time close to him, sitting in the common room sharing stories, or drinking Mudder's Milk in Canton, or just walking together on the planets and stations Serenity visited. She could have taken the plunge and kissed him anytime she liked.

But she never had. As much she liked loving, it couldn't be a one sided thing. It shouldn't be forced on anyone; it should happen when both people are ready. Especially when it was with someone as special as Simon.

The joyful part of Kaylee sank a little more, because that wasn't all there was to it. It wouldn't be so bad if she'd pushed herself on Simon purely because she wanted him. But she'd been feeling one thing when she pinned him against the bulkhead: rage. Pure, hot anger. She'd wanted to make him sorry for saying something that hurt her feelings.

Her first real contact with Simon had come out of a wish to hurt him.

Kaylee lowered herself to the deck, leaning against the bulkhead. The elation melted away and all she wanted to do was ball herself up and disappear. Simon had said stupid things before, but it'd never made her so mad. She hadn't thought she could feel that way toward someone she knew and cared about.

She finally had Simon, right in her hands. But she couldn't take him; he deserved better than the person she was right now.

.*. .*. .*.

Mal found the dining room dark and deserted, which was a little surprising considering that it was getting toward dinner time. He rounded the island and flipped on the light in the galley, then nearly jumped out of his skin at a loud shattering crash. A figure he didn't immediately recognize was furtively backing away from him.

He had his gun half out before he knew it, but then he recognized the teen standing on the far side of the galley, one arm in a sling. A broken bowl lay in a scattering of protein powder on the floor between them.

"What the hell are you doin' here in the dark?" Mal asked without thinking.

The boy took a few more steps back. "I just… I was… River said I could." He glanced at the hatch behind him like he was thinking of making a break for it, then back at the gun in Mal's hand. He was breathing fast, and Mal realized that he was nearly in a panic. Not surprising, considering that Mal had already shot him once.

Mal put the gun away and held up his hands. "Hey, relax," he said. "I ain't mad. You just startled me is all."

The boy didn't answer; he still looked ready to run.

"You're Jase, right?"

He got a short nod in reply.

"I saw you when you were still out, in the infirmary. I'm the captain. You can call me Mal."

Jase didn't look so happy to be on a first name basis. He backed up another step toward the hatch, but then he stopped and held his ground, his face setting in determination. He gave Mal a long look, like he was sizing him up.

"Well, ain't this awkward as hell?" Mal said. "Me bein' the one who shot you and all."

There was no response. Mal motioned at the sling. "How's it doin'?"

Jase looked at Mal like he thought it was a trick question. Mal sighed. He'd experienced one-sided conversations with teens before; it was hard work. And he'd hadn't ever found himself trying to make friends with one he'd nearly killed. Were there social guidelines for this kind of thing?

"I've been shot myself a few times," he tried, going for the something-in-common approach. "Ain't the funnest thing in the world, huh?"

Jase shifted uncomfortably.

So that flopped. Mal looked at the mess on the floor. "I take it you're hungry?"

Jase shook his head, but Mal wasn't quite buying that. The kid wasn't panicked anymore, but he clearly wanted to leave more than he wanted to eat. He was inching around behind the galley island, like he was hoping to put it between himself and Mal.

Mal turned to a cabinet behind him and grabbed a little handheld broom and dustpan. "I wouldn't be hungry either, if I was fixin' up this gōu shī," he said with a nod toward the scattered protein powder. "You got lucky though – it just happens that we got real food on board at the moment, if you can wait a bit for the cookin' of it."

Mal kneeled next to the broken bowl, preparing to sweep up the mess, but Jase stepped forward. "I can do that," he said.

Mal looked at the hand held out for the broom, then up at Jase's other arm in the sling. "It might be a little tough for you."

"But… it's my mess. I should clean it up."

Mal grinned and continued sweeping. "That's mighty decent of you. Really. Some of the folks on my boat'll do a lot to avoid cleanin' up after themselves. But don't worry, I got it."

The boy dropped his hand and stepped back. Mal expected him to slink off, but he didn't. He stood and watched the captain of the ship clean up his broken bowl, looking overwhelmed by the situation.

As Mal was emptying the dust pan, Jase spoke up again. "Um… Captain?"

"What?"

"I'm sorry bout the bowl. I ain't got no money, but I'll pay you back for it. Sometime."

"Tell you what, how bout you pay me back in hard labor. We're gonna have some hungry people showing up soon – you set the table while I put together some vittles, and we'll call it even."

Jase looked at Mal doubtfully, but he nodded.

Mal pointed out the location of plates and silverware, then got a hunk of wild turkey thawing out. He snuck glances at Jase while he cooked; it was slow work setting the table with one arm, but the boy went about it with meticulous care, like it was a big occasion to have dishes and utensils to put out. But there was no ease between them. Jase waited for Mal to move away from the cabinets before coming close. He was quietly adamant about staying out of Mal's reach.

During and after the war, Mal had seen plenty of people who'd had a hard time of it. He'd seen folks who were shell-shocked, who cowered at loud noises and didn't like to be touched. This boy's behavior had a familiarity that Mal didn't like at all; he especially didn't like having someone act like that on account of him. He found himself staying out of the way, trying to help the kid feel safer.

After a time, Mal put a lid over the pan where the turkey and the remains of the greens were simmering into something that would hopefully be half-edible, and he looked at Jase. The table was set and the boy was standing on the far side of it, silently watching Mal.

"I'd like to have a few words with you, if you don't mind too much," Mal said. He waited until Jase nodded, then went to his customary place at the head of the table. Jase started for the far end, but Mal didn't let him.

"Why don't you sit a little closer so we don't have to shout."

Jase hesitated, looking at the hatch again, but he turned back. He didn't sit next to Mal; he left one empty chair between them, sitting down slow like he expected to be stopped. He had control over his face now, keeping it expressionless, but his shoulders were curled forward defensively. Wouldn't take much of a boo to send him scuttling for cover.

Mal cleared his throat. "Look – I, uh… I'm sorry about shootin' you. Wasn't nothin' personal."

Jase wiped at his nose, then he answered in a quiet voice, "I'd a' shot you first if I was any good at aimin'."

"That so?"

Jase nodded, still looking down at the plate in front of him. "It was… decent of you to let the doc help me."

"Wasn't really my choice at the time, I had other things I was… thinking about, I guess you could say. But he did the right thing. It ain't my way to leave a person to bleed to death, no matter what they've been up to."

The boy tucked his hair behind his ear. It was a nervous gesture; right away he pulled it back out, let it hang forward and hide his face.

"I hear that you weren't part of the attack, that you were just tryin' to protect your own. That the truth?"

Jase thought about it before he nodded.

"You managed to stop me from shooting Ray, if that makes you feel better. You saved his life."

"Died anyway."

"Yeah. It wasn't what any of us wanted."

Jase didn't reply.

"Did you know that he was threatening someone real important to me at the time?"

"You shot him, didn't you?" Jase asked, and, for the first time, he looked at Mal steadily. As flighty as the boy was, Mal found that stare more than a mite disturbing. Intense, and near impossible to read. There were a lot of thoughts going on in that head. Mal couldn't tell what they were, but he was very glad that he'd taken the blame for Ray's death. He didn't want to see this look aimed at Kaylee; he preferred to deal with it himself.

Mal didn't drop his eyes while he took a guess. "I figure you might not be real happy with me right now. Might even be feelin' some need to get even."

The stare wavered, then the boy looked away.

"That how it is?" Mal asked.

Jase stared into his lap for a long time. Finally, he shrugged his one good shoulder.

"Yeah, well, I wouldn't be surprised if you had a grudge," Mal said. "Seems natural. But I'm tellin' you, that's a heavy thing to carry around, especially for someone as young as you. You won't do yourself any good by always lookin' to settle a score."

There was no reaction to that at all. Damned kid was a brick wall now, but Mal continued.

"For what it's worth, which is most like a big stinky pile of niú fèn, I mean you no harm. River says you're okay, and she has a way of bein' right about these things."

Mal got nothing but a tight lipped glance in response, and he wondered what he'd gotten himself into. Kids had a tendency to grow up, and the verse could be a small place. He didn't like the idea of someone out there wanting to hunt him down. But there wasn't much to be done about it; he wasn't about to take preventive measures against a teenager.

Mal had nothing else to say. He stood up to go check on dinner, but Jase's hesitant voice stopped him.

"I ain't mad at you. I just…"

Mal stood where he was and waited for the boy to sort out his thoughts.

"He used to be my Pa," Jase finally said. "But there were times… there were times I wanted to kill him myself. I hated him. I was glad to hear he was dead."

He looked up, and the guilt in his face was painful to see. Mal sat back down.

"Ray was a hard man," Mal said. "I can see you might'a had reason to feel like you do. But there's no crime in thinkin' a thing. You had no part in what happened; you got nothing to feel bad about."

Jase looked down, plainly unconvinced. It was going to take more than a few kind words to fix what was wrong with him.

"Hey," Mal said. He waited till the boy looked up at him. "You're not goin' back there. Things are gonna be better for you now."

He waited for a reaction that didn't come, not until the boy's eyes shifted toward the hatch behind Mal. Then he smiled. Mal turned to follow his look and saw River coming down the stairs. Without a word, she sat down across the table from Jase.

Mal gladly turned the conversation over to her, and went to the galley to start cleaning up. He kept himself busy there, but he watched the goings-on at the table. There wasn't much talk, but there was plenty of communication of the non-verbal kind. Mal could see Jase's face, and was surprised to catch the boy still smiling as he stared at River. Kid looked like a whole different person.

At a simultaneous laugh from the two, Mal looked up again and saw feet intertwined under the table. That got him to thinking, and when he went to set some food out he had a closer look. He pushed River's hair aside to be sure of what he saw on her neck. Then he looked across at Jase, and noticed something similar there.

"River?" Mal asked. "You ain't bein' stupid, are you?" He stood over her until she looked up and met his eye. Yep, she knew what he meant.

"I am many things, Captain, but I'm not stupid." He knew what she meant, too.

"Good girl," Mal said, then he looked across the table. Jase was very interested in the spoon at his place setting, shifting it around on the placemat. He looked nervous, but not so flat-out scared as before. When Mal reached across and chucked him on the shoulder, Jase looked up, startled.

"You got your hands full with this one, kid," Mal said with a grin. "Good luck."

Jase looked away quickly, but Mal saw the ghost of a smile. He chuckled as he went back to the galley; he had the feeling he'd just proven himself a 'cool' grown-up. He supposed he ought to come down on them a bit, but this one was really Simon's problem. Besides, the boy wasn't staying long, and it looked like these two might actually be doing each other some good. A little loving between two people who'd been hurt a lot; how could that be such a bad thing?

The thought stuck in Mal's mind as he finished cleaning up.

The crew gathered for dinner. The two temporary additions to the ship would have made for a crowded table, but Zoë, Wash and Bucky were still gone. The rest of the group pulled up their chairs and were just digging in when a rattling voice sounded from the hall, growing in volume as footsteps approached.

"So many stairs! Must keep you in very good shape. Always climbing, up and down. Very good exercise. Keep you young. Strong legs. Strong lungs. Whew!" The foodsteps stopped, and there was an audible sound of breath blown out. "Ah – this here. Jīn shŭ xiàn. Wiring for hydraulics? Route this way? Gàn má? Hmm. Must ask pretty mechanic. Is qí guài way to do it; I not so sure about that."

Mal turned around – a small Chinese woman appeared in the hatch behind him, Bucky and his two missing crew members following just behind.

"Oh, very good! Big, nice dining room! For family dinner, how proper! How hóng!" She pointed up at the ceiling. "And view out top, too, to see stars in Black. I like! Very good!"

She hopped down the stairs and proceeded straight to the table, finding Jayne first. The merc stayed sitting and only leaned away from her a little while she hugged him, and she rambled on the whole time about his improved smell and appearance. "Clean up very well. I was right! Very good man." Mal would have sworn that anyone who attempted to pinch Jayne's cheek would end with a broken wrist, but this woman proved him wrong. She went to Kaylee next, whose face lit up in a real smile as she hugged the old woman back. Then the lady caught sight of Jase, and she trotted to him with a squeal.

"Jase! Bucky told me he find you! You okay? Why this?" She lightly touched his sling, then shifted her attention to his face, her hands moving with the firm expertise of a mother as she checked the temperature of his forehead and lifted his chin so she could see the bruise on his mouth. "What do you get in trouble?" she muttered, and shook a finger at him. "You young ones – always getting hurt. Need to be more careful!" Then she got distracted, staring at his neck. "Hmm…" was her only comment, then she turned and scanned everyone else at the table. Her eyes settled quickly on River, and she squinted as she looked closer at the girl, making a small "Mmm-hmm" noise.

Mal took the opportunity to give Zoë a questioning look. She shrugged helplessly, earning a glare. Mal had heard about the loquacious Xiaojun, but he hadn't been expecting the lady to make an appearance on his ship.

Xiaojun moved on to the food on the table. "What is this? How do you eat this? No good! Next time, I cook. Growing boy cannot eat like this! Bù jì shì!"

Mal gave up any control he might have had over his dinner table and sat back to watch Xiaojun take over. He wasn't quite prepared for the reality of this lady. Eventually, the crew convinced her to pull up a seat and partake in what food they had, though she wavered between politeness and common sense, alternately dropping vague complements and declaring the food inedible. He was glad she hadn't arrived during one of their usual protein meals; the lecture would have been fierce.

The woman's cheer seemed to breathe some life into Kaylee, who sat next to Xiaojun, listening to detailed descriptions of every part the lady had brought along for fixing up the mule. Simon seemed relieved to see Kaylee talking. He'd been uptight at the beginning of dinner – or maybe it was the high necked shirt he had buttoned all the way up his throat that made him seem so tense.

Mal noticed how Zoë and Wash pulled their chairs close together, and shared touches and whispered comments like they were newlyweds. He was happy to see it; at least someone on this boat had worked things out for the better lately.

But his attention was mostly drawn to Inara, who didn't contribute a word. She'd hardly touched the food on her plate, and seemed to disappear behind the lively conversation that Xiaojun stirred up (and largely dominated). Before long, Inara slipped away from the table, unnoticed by most of the crew.

Mal glanced at Zoë and she nodded to him. "Hăo yùn," she said softly, and Mal went after Inara.

"Not hungry?" Mal asked.

Inara stopped, obviously startled that she was being followed. She turned back to him. "No, I'm not. Did you need something?"

"Just wondering why you're leavin' so early."

"The table seemed a little full." She turned and continued on her way, but Mal followed.

"Look, Inara. There's a bunch of things you never explained about the past few days."

She didn't stop. "I'll fill out a full report in the morning," she replied sharply.

"Now, now - there's no call for bein' tetchy."

"I'm not being... tetchy. I'm just tired."

"Tired? That all?"

She reached the catwalk and stopped, turning back to him again. "Are you implying something?"

"Why'd you come back early?"

"Excuse me?"

"From your appointment. You were all set to leave, go to the Core. What happened to change your mind?"

"It's none of your business."

Mal sighed impatiently. "Yeah, I think it is. I gotta make plans around you, and it ain't easy…" He stopped himself. That wasn't right; it was just the same old excuse he'd always used, talking ship's business to avoid saying what he really thought. That wasn't good enough anymore. It was time to be truthsome, whether Inara liked it or not. No matter what she was telling him, she wasn't all right, and he knew it.

She'd started walking away from him again, but he caught up to her at the hatch to her shuttle, grabbing her elbow to make her stop. "Inara, you don't need the act. Whatever happened… you're not alone here."

He knew from her expression that it was no good; she didn't want his help. "It'd be better if I were alone," she snapped. "I'm tired of you always getting in my way. Could you just leave me be for once?"

She yanked her arm from his grip and slammed the hatch in his face. He heard the lock engage and stepped back; this was a waste of time. He wasn't able to reach this woman, and she clearly didn't want to be reached.

I had to make up my mind that I wanted him, and I had to let go of bein' safe.

Zoë's words came back to him, and Mal stopped. Walking away right now would be the safer path, but that didn't make it the best. He had to think on it.

He sat down on the steps. Zoë'd had a point with something else she'd said; he did know what it was like to push other folks away. He'd done it when he was hurting so bad that he thought he wouldn't make it through. He'd said his share of harsh words to folk who didn't deserve it, just trying to get them to leave him alone. And maybe he'd have been better letting them help. Could be, at times like that he actually wanted company. Could very well be that he was just looking for someone who wasn't scared off, a person who didn't give up until he accepted the help.

And then Mal realized – there'd been someone who didn't give up so easy. Inara. After Oeneus, she'd insisted on doing what she could for him, even resorting to trickery, and it may have saved his sanity. Seemed that maybe he owed her a favor. But he wasn't a trained Companion; he wasn't likely to soothe Inara like she had him, no matter how he tried. What the hell did he know about being good company? He'd probably just end up fighting with her, and making her feel worse than she did already.

Sometimes you have to take the risk of puttin' someone else first. Set aside your own worries, even the feeling that nothin' you got will be enough.

Mal smiled to himself, wondering if there was more than one psychic on his boat. Zoë'd known exactly what was going on with him, and what was holding him back.

Guess it came down to this: did he want Inara enough to take a risk? Maybe it was time to make up his mind. Maybe it was that easy.

He took a deep breath, then stood up and pounded his fist against the locked hatch.

.*. .*. .*.

Translations
wŏ de mā: holy mother of god
shén shèng de gaōwán: holy testicle Tuesday
āi yā: damn
gōu shī: crap
niú fèn: cow dung
jīn shǔ xiàn: metal wire
gàn má: whatever for
qí guài: strange; odd
hóng: spacious
bù jì shì: no good
hăo yùn: good luck

---

Chapter 24.

Mal was yelling, but his voice came through only faintly.

Open the gorram hatch!

Inara looked up. "Go away," she said, though she wasn't speaking loud enough for him to hear.

A few dull booms echoed through her shuttle. I ain't askin' again!

She raised her voice. "Mal, I don't want to talk to you." She waited expectantly for whatever he'd come up with as a threat, but there was no reply.

After the silence stretched, she freshened the ink on her quill, surprised but relieved that he'd given up so easily. But she'd just touched the quill to the parchment when the lock on the hatch disengaged with a click. She sighed – of course he hadn't given up. He must have gone to the bridge to release the lock; it was so childish, so like Mal. She stood up. By the time he got back to her shuttle she'd have it locked again. How long would this continue?

But the hatch opened before she got there, and Mal stepped in.

"How did you – ?" she started.

"Got Zoë to override from the bridge."

"Of course." She returned to the divan and bent over her half-finished parchment of calligraphy. "I guess I should invite you to make yourself at home, since you will anyway."

He didn't take the hint, but then landlord/tenant privacy issues never had meant much to him. She glanced up again; he just stood by the hatch, watching her without saying a word. The bruises had darkened on his face, particularly on his right cheekbone. But the swelling was down; the doctor had some fine medicines.

Inara realized she was staring at him and looked away. "You broke into my shuttle to play charades?" she asked with cold sarcasm, trying to cover her concern for his injuries. "Do I get a hint to start off with? Person? Title?"

He wasn't amused. "What happened?"

"Oh, that's right – I heard you were fuzzy on the details." She forced herself to smile at him. "Nothing too wild. Bad guys, complications, and we somehow pulled through in the end. The usual."

"No. I mean what happened with you."

She shrugged and focused on her writing again. "Also not complicated. It wasn't really a fair fight. Your friend Will had obviously never met a Companion before; he seemed to think he'd find me terrified and helpless."

"Yeah, I heard bout how you handled him. Thanks, by the way. He wasn't actually real friendly." He paused, but she had a feeling he wasn't done. She was right.

"I ain't talkin' bout Willy."

It was Inara's turn to be silent. She didn't notice Mal crossing the room, but when she looked up again he was standing right in front of the table she was writing on, arms folded across his chest and face stern.

"Someone hit you," he said. "And I'm fair sure it happened before you got back on board."

Inara raised her left hand to her cheek before she could stop herself. The make-up hid the shadow of the bruise perfectly; how could he…?

"I saw it when you came on the bridge the first time. Sides, you ain't actin' right. Something's eatin' at you."

She dipped her quill and continued with the next character. It was a tricky one, requiring her full concentration, or so she told herself. She kept her head down. "I don't want to talk about it."

"Was it your client? That pretty rich boy?"

"Leave it alone."

He kept looking at her, and Inara had to fight back an urge to squirm. "It's none of your business," she insisted. But her hand was suddenly unsteady, and the stroke she was making came out all wrong, ruining the whole parchment. She bit her lip in frustration and laid the quill on the blotting sheet.

"Inara," Mal said in a softer voice, "you told me how you came back from a job once, hurt, and I never even noticed. Well, I'm seein' it this time."

To her horror, Inara found her eyes tearing up. She didn't look up at him, just blinked hard and turned her hands over, as if checking her fingers for ink stains. Her vision was too blurry for her to actually see.

"Congratuations, Captain. Your powers of perception are astounding."

Her sarcasm wasn't enough to make him back off. "Better believe it. And this time I ain't lettin' you handle it by yourself."

The blinking didn't clear her eyes. The feeling she'd been trying to bury was working its way loose, and the harder she tried to stop it, the worse it became. She put her hand against her forehead to block her face from his view.

"Please, Mal. Please go away."

She realized he was sitting down next to her. But she couldn't take it – if he touched her now, she'd completely break apart. She pushed herself to her feet and stepped away, keeping her back to him while she wiped her face.

"I realize that you are the Grand Master Captain," she started, but her voice didn't have the lightly amused tone that she'd intended. In fact, it was as shaky as her hands. She paused; it wasn't difficult to find a well of anger to tap into, just to steady herself, and her voice was even when she continued. "You like to stick your nose into every little thing on this ship and order everyone around, but not me. I am not part of your crew."

"I guess officially ya ain't, but – "

She didn't let him finish. "So, I… ask you to recall that my business is just that: mine. What happens between myself and my clients is not your concern. I believe I made that clear when we first entered into this arrangement, did I not?"

Inara turned back to him, but she didn't even notice if he tried to reply. She was finding that her anger ran deep, and she had much more to say. "In fact, there were several items about which I was explicit, and to which you agreed, but you've shown a great deal more honor in your dealings with pirates and thieves than you have with me."

She was gathering momentum now, and it felt good. "Yesu, Mal, I pay you rent for nothing! I haven't been able to find a decent client in months, and the few appointments I've made have been interrupted by your bēi wēi jobs and your amazing talent for getting in trouble!"

To her satisfaction, he looked offended by the 'bēi wēi.' She turned toward the hatch and waved at it: further evidence of his transgressions.

"You just broke into my locked shuttle! And now you're butting into my affairs, matters which have absolutely nothing to do with you." She raised her hands to her sides, a gesture of disbelief. "Mal, you… you're unbelievable. Save us both the time. Just call me a whore and get out!"

She stared at him, pleased that he looked a little ruffled. But he returned her stare and didn't say anything, and the little bit of ire she'd managed to raise in him slowly drained from his face. Inara turned and paced to the far side of the small space, her mind racing in frustration. When she looked at him again, he was still sitting, still silently watching her, and he looked calm – more than calm, he looked concerned. Worried about her.

There was something infuriating about that. She took a few steps toward him, and let her voice carry a threat.

"Mal, get out. Now! Or I'll show you a thing or two about my whore training."

That finally got a verbal response. He blinked in surprise before he asked, "Such as?"

"Such as how easily I can knock you senseless. Of course, I might need help with dragging your chuái shī shŏu out of here afterwards, but at least I'd have some peace!"

Her words hung in the air, seeming to echo in the small space. Mal scratched his nose, then he cleared his throat and looked up at her doubtfully.

"Chuái shī shŏu?"

She made herself stand tall and not take it back, instead folding her arms and looking down at him. Disdain, she told herself. Haughty disdain. It gets him every time.

But, apparently, not this time. The húndàn actually grinned and tapped his head. "Okay, but you might wanna take it easy on the noggan. Lots a' hard knocks lately, it's kind'a fragile. Rest of me's all yours though, if you wanna work off any more a' this bad mood."

Inara exhaled impatiently and turned away. She walked to the bulkhead by the cockpit, leaned there for a second, then slid down to sit on the floor in front of it. She pulled her knees up to her chest and put her hands over her face.

Wet – her cheeks were wet. Āi yā, she'd been crying this whole time. No wonder he wouldn't get mad at her. Well done, truly a fully trained and in-control Companion. Way to expertly bend the man to your will.

With an effort, she composed her face and dropped her hands, but she had to wait a little longer before she was sure she could speak in a steady voice.

"Captain, you need to leave now."

She covered her face again and waited. She was too drained to look up; she couldn't fight any more. The only defense she had left was to ignore him and hope he'd go away.

Finally, she heard Mal stand up. But he didn't leave. He walked around the shuttle, muttering to himself, "Seem to recall… you put it here… Ahh, that's it." She heard water running in the head, and then he was there, crouching in front of her, and he gently touched her knee.

She looked up. He had a glass of water in one hand, and opened the other to show her a small white pill.

"You know the drill," he said with a crooked smile.

Inara had to look away. Trust this man to always do the wrong thing, to suddenly be all kindness and empathy when what she really needed was an excuse to rage at him. She wanted to stretch the chasm between them wider and wider so he'd never get across, but the sneaky bastard just went and stepped around it like it wasn't there.

Then she realized how close he was to her right now, the back of one of his hands resting on her knee. And not just physically close. Maybe it was the real Mal crouching in front of her, looking at her as if he cared, as if he was open to her.

Her defenses were so weak; if she took that pill, she'd lose what little command she had over herself. She might take whatever it was he was really offering her.

She shook her head. "That isn't necessary."

"Course it ain't necessary. But it's a helluva lot more fun than stewin' in it."

"Stewing in what?"

"Whatever happened."

She looked at the pill again. There was more to it than he knew. "It's not a good idea," she said, but her voice lacked conviction and she knew it.

"Yeah, that's what I thought once, then you tricked me into takin' it and it worked out just fine."

"But Mal…" Her head dropped to her knees, too heavy to hold up.

He set down the water and brushed back her hair. "Inara, what happened?"

She lifted her head and pushed his hand away. "Dăi húndàn," she swore softly.

"You keep callin' me names like that, I'll have to raise your rent."

"I wasn't talking about you."

"Yeah, I know. I'm more năo huŏ than dăi, ain't I?"

She nodded. Damn him for being comforting. She didn't want him here. She didn't need him.

Gōu shī – yes, she did. Who knew better than a Companion the value of comfort? Of having someone who'd listen? Someone to touch?

She looked at the pill he still held out for her. She pictured taking his hand in both of hers, using her thumbs to stretch his palm open. She imagined leaning forward; a soft kiss first, then she'd part her lips, have just a taste of his skin as she took the pill into her mouth.

She looked up at him. His poor face. But his mouth wasn't bruised. She wanted to kiss him there, too.

"Mal, I really shouldn't… it's not right…"

"What ain't right?"

She sniffed and shook her head, but she knew it was too late. He'd won their ongoing battle; he'd gotten to her this time. She needed Mal, needed him badly and she couldn't fight it. Not when he was like this. So she gave up. She held her hand out and he dropped the pill into it.

It was a good feeling, giving up control of herself. She set down the water and felt a calmness fold around her like a softly padded shell, holding her together, though everything inside was still all wrong. She knew that it was a mistake to take that pill, and she was going to regret it, but that would come later. For now, she wasn't alone. Gods, what a relief.

"Peter didn't touch me," she said.

Mal tilted his head, giving her a skeptical look, then he tenderly brushed his thumb against her cheek. "C'mon, Inara, don't lie to me."

She turned her face away from his touch. "Oh, that." She smiled. "He was actually trying to defend himself. I attacked him."

He snorted. "You're shittin' me."

The grudging respect in his voice made her smile. How did he do that? Make her smile when she felt so completely awful?

"No… shit." The word felt strange rolling off her tongue. She rarely let herself be coarse, but what did it matter right now? It felt so good not to care.

"Did he try…"

"No, he had absolutely no interest in me. Physically."

"What kind'a idiot… I mean – "

"He had a girl, Mal. In his bed. Not even in her teens. She looked scared to death."

Mal let out a breath. He shifted to sit against the bulkhead next to her, and she was grateful that he didn't touch her; she felt too fragile for physical contact.

"So you 'knocked him senseless'?"

"Well… I aimed a bit lower. It wasn't his senses I was after."

He shared a wry smile with her. "Got him good?"

"He won't be bedding that girl anytime soon. In fact, I doubt he enjoyed his last few days of freedom from the constraints of Core society. Which, apparently, turned out to be his last few days of freedom, period."

Mal gave her appraising look. "Willy and Peter, took 'em both down, all in one day. That Companion trainin' must be somethin' else."

"Yes, it… can be quite useful."

Mal was quiet for a spell, then he asked, "So… if he weren't interested in you for that, why'd he – "

"He only hired me to impress his aunt, and the competition. To get a step up." She hesitated before she added the last part, and the words were acrid in her mouth. "He hired me for the honor of having his own Companion, and it… it was awful. So… you were right. You told me so. Enjoy."

When he didn't answer, she glanced at him. He was looking down at his hands.

"I'm sorry," he finally said.

She looked away.

"Inara?"

"Yes?"

"That all?"

She sighed heavily. "That's all."

"Bullshit."

She dropped her head in her hands again. Why couldn't he leave it alone? "What, it's not enough?"

"I don't think it is."

She laughed, but it was bitter. "It takes a lot of hardship to impress Malcolm Reynolds."

"That ain't it. You may look all soft and fluffy, but you're one of the toughest gorram women I ever known. And that includes a whole heap of soldiers and the like. I think there's some reason this got under your skin so bad."

"Keep your captaining job," she bluffed, "you're misguided as a therapist."

He smiled, but didn't back off. "Inara, did that girl… was that… somethin' personal?"

"No." She looked up, met his eyes. "No, Mal. Réncí de Fozu, nothing like that ever happened to me."

"But you told me… you said that …"

"Once, as a grown woman, I had a client overstep his bounds. It was … unpleasant. But I knew enough to understand that it wasn't my fault. That he was the sick one."

She paused and thought it through. The past few days had brought back more bad feelings than she could handle. The truth, the real nightmare of her last year in the Core, was a road she wasn't going to go down. Not with herself, and certainly not with Mal. Nothing could make her do that. The best drug in the verse wouldn't make her talk about it. So she decided to mislead him.

"All right, maybe seeing her did bring out some especially bad feelings. I've seen girls like that at the Academy, brought in for treatment and counseling. I guess I have a fair amount of anger towards men who would be so cruel to a girl, or to anyone." It wasn't a lie, just a misdirection.

"And you sent him off to jail, too. Him and Will, both beat up and locked away. Must have felt good."

"Actually," she replied softly, "it didn't feel good at all."

Inara looked away from him, then leaned her head back against the bulkhead. And she realized she was feeling the effects of the pill; a few muscles in her neck let go as the smallest amount of tension left her. She sighed, pleased at the timing. She was ready to be done with talking.

She rolled her head to the side to look at him. "Mal, I remember the drill, but you seem to have forgotten."

He grinned. "You feelin' nice?"

"Will be soon."

"Where's that fuzzy blanket?"

She pointed to a chest against the far wall and Mal got to his feet.

Inara sat with her arms limp beside her, watching Mal strip the bed and lay the thick blanket on one side of it. He even lit a fresh stick of incense and a few more candles, then lowered the lights.

She liked how he moved. She liked how he was shaped. Tall, solid, but not too big. So quietly masculine. Not the overblown bulkiness of a vain man, just the healthy strength of one who had to work hard in his everyday life. She liked the curve of his neck, the way his hair caught the light. She'd only touched his hair once, when he was unconscious, drugged by Saffron, and she'd been too distressed to enjoy it properly.

Inara truly didn't judge her clients based on physical appearance. She meant what she'd told Kaylee once, that compatibility was a matter of the spirit. Inara believed to her core that physical attractiveness was meaningless.

Still, if she were going to choose a lover based purely on looks…

Mal crouched in front of her and Inara realized what she'd just been thinking. She couldn't look him in the eye, afraid that she'd start laughing and he'd ask her why. He gently pulled her to her feet and led her to the bed.

"Now, I understand if you wanna protect your modesty…" he started, but he never finished his sentence. Inara pulled away from him, and in one smooth motion her thin silk gown came over her head and dropped to the floor. The bra and panties underneath were off just as quickly, though she needed one hand on his elbow for balance.

When she straightened and looked up to see his reaction, Mal was staring at the ceiling. "Well, I guess that makes it… simple. Why don't you just… lay down there and I'll get somethin'…"

Inara stretched out on her stomach, and smiled when she felt a blanket laid over her derriere. He was such a prude.

Mal set a bowl on the table next to the bed. While he'd been filling it with hot water, Inara had arranged the blanket so that it barely concealed her backside. Woman sure wasn't shy.

The skin of her back seemed to glow, showing the graceful line of her spine, the light muscle around her shoulder blades, the broadening of her lower back into her hips. Good lord, she was beautiful. She had her face turned toward him, eyes closed but a slight smile on her lips like she knew what he was doing.

Ah, hell, of course she knew.

"Can't blame a man for havin' a look," he said.

Her smile grew. "Yes I can," she replied, "when he has something else he could be doing."

Mal took a deep breath. She was right: this wasn't about him. It was about her. Being unhappy. And it was about time for him to do something for this woman besides saying stupid things that hurt her.

He took a soft cloth out of the steaming bowl and squeezed the excess water out of it, then copied what she'd done for him once: starting at her neck, going slowly down her spine to where the blanket covered her. Goosebumps rose on her skin, and he felt a chill run up his own back as he remembered how it had felt on him. Slowly he continued over her ribs, the muscles of her shoulders and neck, and down each arm. He spent a while on each hand, one finger at a time, and he noticed she wasn't smiling anymore. Her face was slack; she was lost in sensation.

Mal felt a clenching in his stomach at the sight, a surge of protectiveness. He reminded himself that it was largely the drug, probably more than it was him. But it gave him a sense of satisfaction anyway, to provide comfort to Inara when she needed it.

He tried to keep his thoughts noble as he moved on to her legs, but it wasn't easy. The soft roundness of her thighs, the dimples in the backs of her knees that needed to be tickled and kissed, the muscles of her calves that narrowed into her ankles... By the time he got to her feet, his mouth was dry. She had a few gold toe rings. Perfect.

He cleared his throat. "Inara?"

The reply was slow in coming. "Hmm?"

He patted her calf. "Sunny side up."

While she turned over, he picked up her discarded dress to cover the delicate areas of her top half, though she smiled like she thought he was silly for doing it. He waited for her to settle, and then he waited a little bit more. He was tempted to start with her face, to touch her cheeks and nose and chin and caress away any worry that might be hiding in her forehead. But there was something too personal about that, and he couldn't bring himself to do it. He took another deep breath, then lightly passed the cloth across a shoulder blade, around the base of her neck, and across to the sculpted roundness of her shoulder. Then he continued down her arm to her hand.

He found her fingers clenched in the blanket. Both of her hands were, he realized. That confused him – he didn't remember feeling anything like that when he'd been the one getting the workover. Her breath was rapid as well, which he didn't recall at all.

"Now, what's goin' on with this?" he asked quietly, touching the back of her hand. "Am I doin' such a bad job?"

She shook her head slightly.

"So, relax. Okay?"

Inara took a slow, deep breath and released her grip on the blanket, and he lifted her nearest hand.

He was massaging the warm, wet cloth into her palm when he noticed her eyes were open. She was watching his hands on hers. Then her eyes shifted to meet his, and before he could interpret what he saw there, she moved. Fast but smooth and quiet as a cat, she sat up and her hands clutched the collar of his shirt, pulling him to her. Her lips pressed to his.

Mal remembered well the kiss they'd shared before, when he was the one on drug-induced fire and Inara was doing the nursing. Gorram, he more than remembered, he'd had dreams about it. So he figured the least he could do, as a gentleman, was return the favor.

Oddly, that other kiss had been slow and lazy and sensuous, but there was nothing languorous about what Inara was doing right now. He went with it, letting one hand stroke the cloth over the moist skin of her back; that didn't seem too far beyond the bounds of the situation. Things started going over the edge when the folded up gown slipped down and her bare breasts pressed against his shirt. It was definitely too much when Inara's hand slid down his side and brushed over the front of his pants.

Mal swatted her hand away and pulled back. "Whoa, Inara – easy there." He wanted to stand up, get some distance, but she still had one hand tightly clenching the front of his shirt; she might have fallen to the floor if he pulled away. She leaned into him again, and he had a good close-up look at her darkened eyes. Suddenly, her heavy breathing took on a whole new meaning.

"Yìqĭ shènhùxì," he muttered, mostly to himself. He dropped the cloth on the floor and put his hands on her shoulders to hold her away from him.

"Mal – "

He didn't let her continue. "Last time," he said, "when it was me, you said this relaxes everythin'…"

"Women don't need tension to have sex, shă guā." She moved a hand to the back of his neck, pulling him close for another kiss.

Mal didn't resist it near as much as he should have, but he finally did manage to turn his head away. "Inara, this ain't right. You don't know what you're doin'."

"You knew what you were doing last time, when you kissed me."

"Now, that was a whole different situation – "

"Mal, look at me." She worked her hands up his neck and into his hair, combing her fingers through it and trying to coax him closer. "It would be inhuman to leave me in this state."

"Oh, I am lookin', and I'm all kinds a' human, but this just ain't – "

"Dè le," Inara said, and she caught him by surprise with a hard shove to his chest.

Mal found himself laying on his back on the thick rug, a naked Inara straddling his waist, her skin glowing gold in the candlelight. He took a deep breath, but couldn't hold it for long. "Wŏ de mā," he muttered as he exhaled.

Her fingers interlaced with his, holding his hands aside so he couldn't push her away. He had to admit though, he wasn't trying real hard. She leaned over him; her breath tickled his neck as she rubbed her cheek against his jaw. He couldn't hold back a groan; this situation was quickly going beyond anything he could process.

"Please, Mal," she whispered.

Which was all kinds of nice, but it did make him wonder – could it be possible that he was lying on his back, Inara Serra on top of him, naked as she could get, her breath warm on his ear as she begged him to make love to her?

No. There was no way this was real.

Mal decided that was a good working theory, and when her mouth closed on his again he returned her kiss with gusto.

Shàng dì, she tasted just as good as he remembered. Mal pulled his hands free of hers, finding it was easy to do when he really wanted to, and he stroked the sides of her rib cage lightly. He felt her shudder at the electric heat his touch set loose on her slightly altered senses, and it was like he was feeling it himself.

She pulled back and patted his cheek, and there was something wild and free in her face that he'd never seen before. "Good captain," she said with a smile, then she pulled his shirt open in one hard tug, sending buttons flying. She laid down against him, pressed her body against his with a heavy sigh, and it felt so gorram good that he thought maybe it wasn't a dream after all. He'd imagined how she must feel plenty of times, but it'd never been like this. It had never been quite this good.

Inara kept herself still, relishing the sensations that physical contact brought. She was so close to him she could feel his lungs filling with air and his heart racing. His hands rested gently at her waist – not holding her, not pushing her away, but somewhere in between.

"Inara…." His voice came out thick and breathy and faint, like he wasn't so convinced of what he was saying.. "I shouldn't… We can't just…"

He was still thinking too much; she couldn't allow that. She slid down his body, kissing her way along his neck, chest, and stomach, then she opened his pants and pulled them down over his hips. She wanted to get his body committed to this before his mind got in the way. His hands hovered tentatively over her head as her mouth closed over him, as if he still couldn't decide whether to encourage or stop her. Finally, his fingers settled into her hair, resting lightly at first, then starting to clench. She laced her fingers in his and pulled his hands away; she meant to be the one setting the pace.

Inara smiled as much as was able, given what she was doing. Mal was experiencing something rare: a fully trained Companion pushed beyond her own control. She made full use of her skills, but was guided by her own desire rather than education or logic. She didn't need to look up at his face; she intuitively read him by the muscles that clenched in his stomach and thighs, and from the short gasping grunts that escaped him. Every move of her lips and tongue vibrated through him, and within seconds she had an understanding of his body that most lovers take years to achieve. Like a master cellist coaxing a Bach sonata out of a battered old cello.

Inara's mouth left him and her head fell onto his hip, and she shook with laughter.

"Wha-?" Mal lifted his head to look at her, his face an odd mix of desperate lust and boyish confusion.

"Would you be offended if I compared this to playing a battered old cello?" she asked.

"Hunh?" Mal whined in a strained voice, sounding near tears. She smiled and reached out to touch his flushed cheek. "What're you…" he stammered, then, "I ain't old!"

He looked so genuinely offended that she had to laugh again. "Older than your years," she said, wiping the sweat off his brow. "And you're certainly quite battered." She found a faded scar on his hip and kissed it, then took his erection in her hand. His head fell back again and he moaned at her touch. She trailed kisses over his stomach, so light that she tickled him and the muscles under his skin twitched.

"Well built, though," she continued, enjoying the analogy. "Good tone." She paused at his belly button. "Lovely timbre." Her mouth traveled over his heaving ribs. "Deep resonance." She closed her mouth on his nipple, grazing the nub with her teeth. He gasped and arched his back. "See what I mean?" she said as she smiled up at him, but he wasn't paying much attention to her words. Almost too late, she realized what she was feeling in her busy hand, and that pulled her to her senses, at least regarding one important matter.

She lifted herself to her knees over the top of him, pinning his hands beside his head and otherwise not touching him at all.

"What're you doin'?" he asked, his eyes heavy with need. But he didn't make a move to stop her. She smiled. That was nice of him; she really did want to do the driving here.

"I'm afraid I'm too good at my art," she said. "I need you to last a little longer."

"Nara, I can't…"

She looked down between their bodies, things were indeed dire. That was no good. She looked back at his face and put on a plastic smile. "Don't you think Jayne looked well today?" she said lightly.

"Gah!" Mal's eyes opened wide in disbelief.

"I think he even washed his t-shirt. Such a shame – Jayne can smell sooo good."

"What the hell're you – "

"Oh! Did I tell you what I read on the cortex the other day? Hemlines are lower this season!"

He was squirming beneath her. "You are evil. Mean, horrible, shòu xìng woman…" His hands strained against hers, but not enough to break free.

"Longer, fuller skirts are the thing. Isn't that wonderful?" She glanced down his body again. Not quite so dire.

"I say evil already? Vicious, cruel, heartless, gorram banshee..."

"And as for hairstyles – "

He raised his head and his eyes focused on her intently. "Don't you dare – don't you dare talk to me bout hair."

His fingers were gripping hers, and Inara decided she better gets things moving again. After all, it was quite possible to push a man like Mal too far. The thought made her pause; it was tempting to see what he'd do. But she wasn't ready to give up control. Not yet.

She shushed him with a smile, "Shhh. No more talk. Why don't you help me with this." Slowly, she moved his hands to her hips and positioned herself. He guided her down, and relief spread over his face as he slid into her.

Once she was settled, she folded her legs tight against his sides and leaned forward to press her body against his. The heat came back. She'd been enjoying the seduction (and un-seduction) game so much that she'd forgotten about her own augmented senses, the flames that shot into her skin wherever he touched her. Now that she focused on it, it rose again. She didn't want to move; she could have laid against him, completely still, for … well, for a good minute. Okay, maybe half a minute.

Mal wasn't so patient. With a whimper he tried to thrust up into her, so she reached down, put her hands on his hips to hold him still. She wanted to whisper dull useless comments in his ear, to try to distract him with nonsense again, but her mind wasn't working that well anymore.

"No, not yet," she whispered. "Not yet."

The heat grew with every little sound that vibrated in Mal's chest. It blazed high enough to completely shut down her brain when he brought his lips up to her ear and whispered, "Inara, please…" She could do nothing in response but close her mouth over the side of his neck, biting down on his skin to keep herself from saying too much.

He took that as permission. He rolled them both over, keeping his body tight against her. She wrapped her arms and legs around him – she felt surrounded by Mal. Inside and out, pressed against every part of him she could reach and enclosed by him in return.

She squeezed her eyes closed, expecting him to finish them both off quickly. But he didn't move, and she opened her eyes again in surprise. His face was hovering inches above hers, eyes burning. He slid his hands into her hair, holding her so she couldn't look away. His grip shifted against her head, changing again and again as if he was trying to memorize the shape of her skull.

"You here?" he asked, his voice thick. "You really here with me?"

She raised her hands to his face, wiping the sweat back. His eyes, deep and dark and fixed on her, looked wet. She pulled him down to her, kissed each eyelid, and tasted salt on her lips. She knew she was lost. It wasn't the drug haze; she loved this man and he loved her in return. She'd known for some time, but it never broke her heart more than it did right now. Because it was so good, but it never would work. It was impossible.

But that was a matter for later, not now.

"I'm here, Mal."

"This is real?"

She nodded, feeling tears well in her own eyes. "Real. I promise."

"Good."

He leaned down, let his lips brush hers in a ghost of a kiss that brought her back to her body, reminded her of the searing heat, of his hardness inside her and the solid weight of his chest above her. He began pulsing his hips, his eyes holding hers, and the fire spread out from her core to meet the blaze in her skin. Her mouth fell open; she wanted to tell him, to make him move faster, but her mind wouldn't make the words. He knew anyway. He sped up, but braced himself on one elbow so he could reach one hand down to where their bodies joined, watching the reaction on her face as he pressed against her sensitive flesh.

It wasn't long before her head fell back and she cried out, cresting in a blaze that should have withered her flesh and charred her bones. She was still floating on a sea of flame when she felt him bury his face in her neck and follow her over.

It took some time for Mal to return to himself. He was laying on his side, and Inara was in his arms, pressed tight up against him. She seemed to have found a state of molten bliss, one that he remembered well. She didn't respond when he rolled away from her to finish removing his clothes – his pants were still caught about his knees.

Once he was naked, he lifted her carefully and carried her to the bed. He set her down, and she melted into the blanket as if she was more fluid than human. He found the cloth he had dropped earlier, rinsed if it off in the now tepid bowl of water, and carefully wiped the sweat from her body. He had to smile at how she reacted to his touch, pulling to him without waking enough to realize she was doing it. Eventually, she opened her eyes and reached her arms out to him, and he dropped the cloth in the bowl and stretched out beside her.

She fit herself against him, looking so satisfied, so sated. He felt that tightness in his gut again, that need to keep her safe and happy. He wanted to take care of her. She had such a lovely heart, and was so generous with it; he wanted to make sure no one ever took advantage of that again. He began placing light kisses along her jaw.

"Stop," she whispered.

He grinned and continued. "Make me."

"No really, stop." She spoke louder this time, like she meant it.

He pulled away. "Are you… is this okay?"

"No, it's not," she shook her head, eyes still closed. "Not okay."

He drew himself up on an elbow to look at her, afraid she'd open her eyes and he'd see distance there, and maybe something worse. Regret. But she smiled, and when she looked at him her eyes were smiling too.

"Mal, if you get me going again, I might hurt you."

"Really?" he asked, unable to hold back an eager grin.

She tried to roll away, but he grabbed her and pulled her under him. "I'm not kidding," she insisted. "Time to sleep. Second pill."

Her hands gripped his upper arms, trying weakly to hold him away. Her breath was starting to come fast and shallow. Mal liked that reaction, he liked it a lot, but he had to remind himself that this wasn't about him. He escaped from her grip enough to kiss the tip of her nose. Despite her words, she tried to tilt her head back and turn it into a real kiss.

"Just followin' orders," he told her as he slipped away.

He found the box in the cabinet where he'd left it and picked out a pill, then paused as something occurred to him. He turned back to the bed. Inara was stretched out long, her eyes closed and hair wild, looking sultry enough to knock the breath out of him. He wiped a hand over his face; he should have covered her up. It was a difficult thing to see her looking like that and not be able to act on it. How bad could she hurt him, really?

It ain't about what you want, he reminded himself, it's about helping her. Whatever she needs.

He walked back to the bed and sat next to her, then held the little pill up.

"So, my lovely Miss Serra, I'm guessin' that you knew what this would do to you."

She opened her eyes and her face lit with a guilty smile, like a child who'd been caught in a clever prank.

"Yes, I did."

"So you knew that, uh, you and me, we'd…"

"I had a feeling. I didn't think you'd mind." Her heavy eyes focused on him; it seemed to require some effort. "Do you mind?"

"No, I ain't complainin'. I just… " He had to stop and think about it. So she'd decided on this before she took the drug. That was good. That was very good.

Then something else occurred to him. He looked at the pill again.

"You told me you took one of these on my ship before."

"Mm-hmm."

"And you had to deal with this, uh, reaction… by yourself?" When she didn't answer, he leaned over her sleepy face, blew a stream of air on her neck, then whispered against her skin. "You should'a let me know. We could'a done this a long time ago."

She smiled lazily, her eyes closed as she put a hand on his shoulder to weakly hold him close. "I meant to… deal with it myself, but I didn't."

Mal sat up and made a face. It wasn't a happy face.

"Simon?"

"No. It was before Simon and River joined Serenity. Right before."

Mal made another face, unable to hold back disgust. "Jayne?"

Inara stretched, eyes still closed, not noticing his expression. "Actually, Kaylee."

"Um… Could you clarify that?"

She opened her eyes, smiled gently at him. "Kaylee noticed I didn't seem well, and stopped in to check on me."

Mal had to make himself shut his mouth. "You mean… you and Kaylee... you're lovers?"

"No, nothing like that." She lazily slapped a hand against his arm, though she missed and hit his thigh instead. "Not everyone takes sex as seriously as you do. I was hurting. I needed help. She happened by and helped me. Mostly we talked, but she helped out a little with other things."

Kinda like I just did? he thought.

"It was the drug," she continued. "It was only sex." Her voice trailed off in contentment, but her hand stayed on his thigh. "Speaking of which…"

Mal felt like he'd just been punched in the gut. It was only sex.

He pushed her hand off his leg, and turned his back to her. It was the drug. It was only sex. He turned to glance at her once, at her hair spread around her head, her face peaceful and eyes closed. She was completely unaware of his reaction, and he was grateful for that. He didn't want her seeing this. He felt idiot enough already.

Not everyone takes sex as seriously as you do.

"I'll just… I'll just get you some water," he said, and picked up the glass from where it sat on the floor.

He took his time refilling it, trying to pull himself together. What in the hell did he expect? He had no sense when it came to Inara. He was a gorram fool. Of course it was just sex.

But she was hurting bad, that was for real. This woman who spent her life trying to be a comfort to others, and never had anyone to take care of her. And he'd done nothing but let her down. Hell, he'd hurt her himself more times than he could remember. But not this time – if a warm body was all she needed, then that's what he'd be. Wasn't like it was an unpleasant chore. He tried to smile at the thought, but it wasn't all that funny.

After she took the pill, Inara reached for him.

"Remember the hurtin' me part?" he said as lightly as he could.

"I'll be asleep soon," she said, "I can't hurt you that badly."

No worse than you already have, he thought, and immediately regretted it. He shouldn't blame her for this. It was his own foolish expectations, thinking that bedding a drugged Companion was something verse shattering.

He let her pull him down to lay on his side facing her. She ran her hands over him lazily, possessively, then finally reached one hand between them and found him ready again. His body certainly had no problem with this arrangement.

She stroked him gently. "Be inside me," she whispered.

Mal pulled her closer and lifted one of her legs over his hip, then slid into her. And Yesu if that didn't feel just as good as it had before. He could almost forget that it didn't mean anything.

They moved together slowly, languidly. After a while Inara fell still, so Mal did too, except for one thumb that moved against the back of her neck.

"Keep me wrapped up," she said, her voice fading. "All wrapped up in Mal…" He did as she asked, holding her there until she was limp in his arms.

He waited until her breath deepened, then rolled onto his back, slipping out of her warmth. Unfinished – but the lack of physical satisfaction was the least of hiw worries.

She still had her head on his shoulder and a leg across his hips, and he stroked the slender arm that stretched across his chest. She needed physical contact. She'd had a world of hurt; he suspected it was more than she'd owned up to, and now she had a powerful need to feel safe. He could do that for her.

But his eyes stared blankly at the ceiling.

It was only sex.

He was seeing the look in her eyes when she promised him it was real. Feeling the touch of her lips on his eyelids. The pull of her hands in his hair as her body strained against his. Had all that been so hollow? Just a sensation, ready for anyone who happened into her shuttle on this particular night?

I was hurting. I needed help. It was only sex.

The gorram drug, making her so open, so needy. Making him think it was something it wasn't. He closed his eyes, wishing he was anywhere but here.

"Mal?" His name floated up as a long breathy sigh without voice.

"What?" he asked softly.

Her warm breath tickled his sternum as she whispered, "I love you."

He started and looked down at her, not sure he'd heard that right. Her eyes were closed, lashes laying long against her cheeks, her face slack with sleep. Then her mouth curved slightly in an easy smile and he saw her lips move when she whispered again, "I love you."

Her arms were weak but tried to tighten around him. Mal helped, turning toward her again and pulling her so close that he wasn't sure she'd be able to breathe. She didn't complain, just tucked her head under his chin and placed a few soft kisses on his chest before she went limp again.

He hoped she was too deep in slumber to notice when he raised a hand to wipe at his cheek. Crying. Gorram. Hadn't done that since before the war.

.*. .*. .*.

Translations
bēi wēi: petty and low
chuái shī shŏu: fat ugly corpse
húndàn: bastard
āi yā: damn
dăi húndàn: evil bastard
năo huŏ: annoying
dăi: evil
gōu shī: crap
réncí de Fozu: merciful Buddha
yìqĭ shènhùxì. let's take a deep breath
shă guā: idiot
dè le: that's enough
wŏ de mā: holy mother of god
shàng dì: God
shòu xìng: brutal