Mal finally made his arrangements with Petaline and rounded up his crew. Well... all but one.

"River hasn't come back yet," Simon was saying. Mal, Inara, and Simon were outside the Heart of Gold. The sun was gone and light was fading fast.

"She's a big girl, she can take care of herself," Mal said.

"What if something happened?" Simon asked. He was stunned. Mal couldn't seriously be talking about leaving her.

"She's got transportation and knows where we are. If she's not back by tomorrow, we'll go find her." Mal said from his place in front of the door. "Are you coming or not?"

Simon crossed his arms over his chest. Mal thought he couldn't look more stubborn. "I'm not leaving," he said defiantly.

Mal considered for a second. Simon seemed serious. "Suit yourself," he said, finally. "I'm sure she'll be back any minute now."

"Are you sure we shouldn't go looking for her?" Inara asked as they left the Heart (and Simon) behind.

"Between her and the ninja pirate, there ain't hardly a point," Mal said, as they got to the shuttle. He opened the hatch and let Inara in. "There's nothig we can do that they can't do their own selves. Besides, I really think they're fine."

Inara was busying herself with starting her shuttle. "Do you think they'll be back soon?"

"Nope," Mal said, leaning against the bulkhead. "I hope Petaline charges that stubborn doctor room and board for the night."

Mal realized he was alone for the first time with Inara since last night. He rotated the lounge chair behind the cockpit and took a seat. "So... about last night..."

Inara smiled slightly to herself. "What about it?"

"Are you embarrassed by me?" Mal asked.

That surprised Inara. Mal never ceased to confuse her, which was fairly difficult given that she was an expert in all matters relating to men. "What?" she asked, upset with her self for losing her composure and sounding (to her ears) dumb.

"You're ashamed of me," Mal said. "That's why you've been avoiding me."

Inara took a moment to sort out what Mal said in her own mind. She'd never been trained on what a Puritanical view of sex would do to a person, psychologically, so she was in unknown waters. "So in your head, I had sex with you, but now I'm ashamed?"

"Is that the way of it?" Mal asked. He preferred his answers in the "yes" and "no" variety. He wasn't going to let Inara talk her way out of a straight answer. This was too important.

"No, Mal!" Inara said, exasperated.

"Then why have you been avoiding me all day?"

"We just spent the whole day together!" Inara protested.

"Correction," Mal interjected. "I just spent the whole day following Miss Petaline around, writing down a list of supplies as long as my arm while you were off God knows where."

Inara was truly lost now. What had he expected her to do? They'd had feelings for each other for close to three years now. Why would finally laying together mean she had to change her behavior? "What are we talking about?"

"Us," Mal said, simply.

"Obviously," Inara said, rolling her eyes.

Mal sighed and slouched lower in his seat. "I don't take a woman to my bed I ain't got feelings for. That ain't me."

Inara knew that and wasn't sure why Mal felt the need to say it. Also, she resisted the urge to point out that Mal hadn't taken her anywhere. She'd come to his bed of her own free will. Not only that, she'd come to him because she knew it would make Mal more comfortable than the other way around.

"And you can't just use me because your out of the job. That ain't right, either."

Mal was an expert at trying her patience. Inara resisted the urge to slap Mal silly. Barely. It was hard. She took a breath and tried a different tact. "Do you know how I used to pick my clients?"

Mal really didn't like thinking about that, but he played along. Inara never could just come right out and say what was on her mind. "No," he finally answered. "I just assumed you pick the youngest, richest, best looking men in the Verse." Mal was fully aware he was none of those things. On second thought, he might have barely qualified as "good looking", but he wasn't the lean, clean, and refined pretty that Inara used to go for. Plus he was twenty years older.

"Greatness."

Now Mal was confused, so he listened closely, which was Inara's plan.

"The largest portion of my client base was young men, inexperienced in life and love. The one thing most of them had in common was their desire to be something more. They had that spark of greatness, waiting to be fanned to a flame. I liked being that fan, as much as I could."

Mal had never heard Inara talk about her work like this before. He'd given up on his initial assessment of Inara being an over priced whore long ago, but he was starting to realize her job had actually meant something to her. Being a Companion had given her a clearly defined, valuable place in society. Having all that ripped away, largely due to Mal's own actions, couldn't be easy, but here she was. "I can appreciate that," Mal said. He fell silent for a second. "Hold on a tick...what's all that got to do with us?"

"You have that same mark of greatness," Inara said. "A normal man couldn't do half of what I've seen you do."

Mal and Inara had been dancing around each other for years. He'd never heard her say anything so complimentary before. "You really think that? You don't think I'm just some washed up, petty crook?"

"You're closer to David at this point, set to kill the giant," Inara said.

That sounded shiny, but Mal didn't feel anywhere near up to the honor. "You're a Buddhist."

"I also received an education," Inara said, smiling. "I know the story of King David."

"That's quite the pedestal you got me on," Mal said. "You sure I can measure up?"

"Let's just say I'm choosing to believe in you," Iara answered.

"You know they do say 'Behind every great man-'"

"I'll stand at your side," Inara interrupted, "but I'm not taking a back seat to you. Don't worry. I think I can keep you in line without being in your shadow, though."

Mal smirked. "You'd be the first." He lapsed into silence and for a moment there was only the sounds of the shuttle's engines. "What about that Matherton fellow?"

"Atherton?" Inara asked. "What about him."

"He didn't seem so great."

"Well he did invite me to all the best parties," Inara said laughing.

Mal surprised himself by laughing along. Then he asked, "So why were you avoiding me all day?"

Inara sighed deeply and rolled her eyes. "You're a very private person, Mal."

Mal wasn't sure if that was her answer or if she was trying to make another point. "Yeah, so?"

"So do you have some deep desire for me to tell Jayne and the others about last night?" She looked over her shoulder to catch Mal's reaction.

"Why would I-"

"I'm sure Kaylee would be happy for us. Jayne might even buy you a congratulatory drink."

"That's not why I was asking. I don't need everyone to know my business. The things I do ain't for other people to gossip about."

"Are you sure?" Inara asked, docking her shuttle. "We could put a bed in the cargo bay and consummate our new relationship to the cheers of all the crew."

Mal visibly recoiled in horror at the idea. "What? Eww, gross! That's the worst idea ever." His head cocked to the side as he had a thought. "Is that something you've done before?"

Inara sighed and looked back over her shoulder again. "No, Mal. I'm just teasing you."

Mal just grunted. "Well I guess we should let the others know we're back. Jayne's probably chomping at the bit to get gone right about now." The shuttle was coming up on Serenity's location.

As soon as Mal and Inara exited the shuttle, the cargo bay door opened and Jayne sped off into the night in the hauler, waving without looking back. Kaylee and Zoe were standing on the catwalk to stay out of the "squish zone". Kaylee had Snow in her arms who looked like he'd rather be anywhere else.

"What is he, Bugs Bunny?" Mal said in disbelief. He was surprised Jayne hadn't left a trail of fire in his wake.

"How did it go, sir?" Zoe asked.

"We're gonna' have to wave Monty," Mal said. His old friend, in addition to being a great smuggler, fronted a legitimate shipping company and had a dozen ships at his disposal. "We've got more work than we can handle ourselves. It seems Mrs. Petaline's gonna' build herself a proper city."

"Where's Simon?" Kaylee asked, putting the puppy down. "What happened?"

"Don't you go worryin' yourself," Mal said, in a reassuring voice. "He just got himself caught up in waiting for his sister."

Kaylee crossed her arms and fixed Mal with a disapproving look. "He's waiting on River?"

"Yeah," Mal nodded.

"At a whore house?" Kaylee asked. Mal was no expert on women, but Kaylee seemed less than pleased.

"Yeah."

Kaylee turned and stalked off.

"What'd you say?" Mal asked Zoe, only half serious. It was vaguely possible Zoe had something to do with Kaylee's sudden shift in mood.

"I don't know, sir," Zoe said. "I'll have to go apologize for telling Kaylee her boyfriend decided to spend the night at a whore house."

"It happens to the best of us," Mal said, sagely. "She shouldn't be too hard on you."

Mal started snickering, unable to keep a straight face. Zoe even joined in.

"Both of you, stop," Inara said, stepping between them. Poking Mal in the chest she said, "You: shower and get ready for bed. I'll go talk to Kaylee." As she walked off, she considered that if felt nice to be able to expect someone else to meet her needs for a change.

Zoe and Mal watched Inara leave, graceful and dignified as always. Once she was safely out of earshot, Zoe turned to Mal.

"What's that all about?" Zoe asked.

"What?" Mal asked. His face was the perfect mask of innocence.

Zoe just raised her eyebrow slightly. She'd been working with Mal too long to fall for his shenanigans.

"Oh, right," Mal said as though he'd just remembered something. "Inara and I are sleeping together now."

Zoe took a step back and grabbed onto the catwalk's hand rail. "Excuse me?"

Mal realized she would need more of an explanation. He was very intuitive. "Well, really it was just last night, but if I have anything to say about it, we'll continue for the foreseeable future." There. That explained everything. The cat was out of the bag and it was hardly as painful or awkward as it could have been.

Zoe scanned Mal's face for any sign he was playing a prank on her. When he didn't follow up with a punch line, she said, "God help me, I think you're serious."

"I'm overwhelmed by your outpouring of happiness and moral support," Mal said, dryly. Apparently this was going to be painful.

"What are you thinking?" Zoe demanded.

"Excuse me... are you the pot or the kettle in this situation? Cause I seem to recall saying a thing or two about you marrying a certain dashing young pilot."

"You said it was a bad idea," Zoe said. It still hurt to talk about Wash, but she kept speaking. "You said it would cause complications that could threaten our business. I'm glad I didn't listen, but it seems a little out of character for you."

"In case you hadn't noticed, our business has kind of changed," Mal said, waving an arm at the cargo bay which was still full of products that needed to be fenced. "We making a transition from 'staying alive' to 'fighting back'. It hurt when Book and Wash died. God knows how bad it would hurt if something happened to Inara, but I'm done making myself lonely and miserable for no gain." Mal walked off without saying another word. He was not used to expressing this much emotion.

Zoe watched him go, amazed. He sounded so much like the old Sargent, for a moment she'd been back in the trenches. Even though Mal couldn't hear, Zoe spoke. "I'll follow your lead, then."

.

Deep inside a maximum security prison a pale, red headed woman sat at a blank table in an empty room. There was only one other chair in the room. The guard who brought her here had taken her handcuffs off, which she knew wasn't normal. She took that to mean someone important wanted to talk with her.

The woman appeared to be between twenty and thirty, but she'd spent countless credits on maintaining her looks. No part of her body was both natural and unaltered. She'd never been a believer in traditional plastic surgery, so every one of her enhancements had been the result of gene manipulation, making her beauty as permanent as possible. Her beautiful hair grew in "naturally", but was the result of a genome enhancement to make it look as good as possible. She never needed to wear makeup, which was also the result of gene therapy. Even if she lived to be one hundred and fifty, she'd never get wrinkles or look old. Even her above average breast size was accomplished by a combination of hormone treatments and gene therapy. Nano machines in her bloodstream constantly prevented any of her procedures from "correcting" themselves. In short, she was a million credit woman and a monument to beautiful appearance.

She knew it, too. She'd made her career out of using her body to get what she wanted out of men and leaving them high and dry. Her acting skills, combined with her looks, could have easily made her rich in their own right, but that would have spoiled her fun.

Her VIP finally walked in. He was an Asian man and would have been handsome had he not been so fat. The red haired woman never understood why people would let themselves look like that. Even if he didn't want to watch what he ate, he could obviously afforded to have his metabolism altered. She'd heard somewhere that body fat, from an evolutionary standpoint, was a sign of wealth and standing. She thought the idea a load of gossen. The stylishly thin Mandarin beard and expensive clothes marked him as rich, but what really caught the woman's eye was his necklace.

On his neck was a gold chain with a shield. The shield was the Parliamentary Seal. This man was a member of Parliament.

Now what could he possibly want with me? the woman asked herself. Her best guess was that it involved taking her to bed, but a member of Parliament could have any woman he wanted. That couldn't be it.

"Good evening, madam," the man said, sitting down without introducing himself. The woman assumed he was under the impression she would know who he was, but she'd been out of the normal run of things for a while. The man placed a folder on the table. "I'm sorry about the late hour, but I've spent nearly the entire day putting this in order. You'd think someone of my standing would have an easier time, but the Verse runs on paperwork."

"What can I do for you?" the woman asked.

"Do you recognize this man?" he asked, opening the folder. The picture in the front of the file was of a square jawed man with medium brown hair wearing a brown coat. The man was standing in a hanger with his fists on his hips looking up at an old firefly class space transport in obvious approval. The picture seemed to have been extracted and modified from a security camera. Any member of Serenity's crew would have recognized the location as the hangar on Miranda they'd had haul the ship to for repairs.

"I've seen him once or twice," the woman said.

"I've had your felony theft charges suspended from the Core Net," the man said simply. "When I leave here, you're leaving with me. I'll set you up with any supplies you think you need, your choice of a ship, and a considerable sum of money in credits, gold, and cash for whatever planet you think you'll need money on. Then, I'll send you on your merry way. You'll find Mr. Reynolds and wave his location. After that, you'll be a free woman with a clean record. Deviate from the plan and your charges will be reinstated along with the theft of the ship, cash, and supplies you take with you. You will be found guilty of breaking out of prison, as well. Then, you'll spend the next twenty years in solitary confinement at a more...specialized prison."

The woman considered how to answer for a moment. This was too big. This was not how Parliament got things done. In the grand scheme of things, releasing a petty thief to catch another one seemed redundant. The only charge her ex-husband's lawyers had gotten to stick was grand theft. She'd be out in eight years at the most. She had her own lawyers as well. Realistically she was looking at four years and probation. Did she really want to risk it? "What's Parliament's interest in Mr. Reynolds?" she asked, not expecting an answer.

"He's the face of a growing insurgency," the man said. "Terrorist cells are popping up in Core worlds left and right. He's bad for business and undermines the voter's confidence in Parliament. Once you give us his location, we'll send our best extraction agent to bring him back." The man gave nothing away with his face. The red haired woman thought to herself he'd be fun to mark.

"What if someone else finds him before me?" she asked. "There's no way your putting all your eggs in my basket."

"Then we thank you for trying and let you go free anyway."

"You've really thought this out, haven't you?" the woman asked. She knew the value in negotiating came from de-valuing the other party's offer. It was becoming rapidly apparent that she was being sold to and not the other way around. "What if I said I want to be a good little girl and serve my debt to society so I can leave here with my head held high?"

"You don't," the man said. "I've read your psych profile." He took a sheet of paper out of the folder and slid it to the woman. She didn't have to check to know it was a copy of the prison's psychologist report, but she played along. "The choice between staying in an all women's correctional facility or going back to what you do best isn't really a choice is it? Even with the risk."

This man had it in one shot. "You're good," she said. "The first thing I'm going to need is a new ID."

"I can have it for you tomorrow Miss-"

"Reynolds," the woman interrupted. "Saffron Reynolds."