Weeks, Seasons
At the fourth planet of the system, Inara left Serenity for her business. She had had it on the calendar for two weeks now, well ahead of the required limit. It was one of her regulars, the one with the funny walk, Mal said one night over the cargo bay. Inara had slapped him on his knee, laughing, "He does not! He's just proper, that's all, not everyone stalks into a room." Mal had grimaced and faked being in pain, causing Inara to slap him again.
They had been meeting in the cargo bay for a while now: Mal's excuse had always been the coffee; that the coffee machine was the best at this time, something about subspace harmonics. Inara had just rolled her eyes but it didn't stop her from joining him when she wasn't busy or... busy.
The night before the drop off, before Inara would conduct business with Magistrate Conners, they sat in the cargo bay. Feet dangling and banging against the wall, fingers wrapped around aluminum mugs: they talked about the latest passengers and Mal's inability to admit when he was wrong. Inara insisted that there were no reasons not to allow Kaylee and Simon a little vacation, as long as they were planetside. Mal said that she was just being a girl, said a few things about her living vicariously and all that gorram and goddamnit, this was a ship first, and he needed his mechanic. Inara told him that he was just jealous.
"Jealous? Of what? Simon and Kaylee? That's just a load of-"
"Well, first Zoe and Wash, and now Simon and Kaylee, admit that you're jealous."
"And I'll say it again in case you didn't register my outraged expression from before-"
"No need to assail me again with your long, impressive list of outbounder curses."
"But it's long, right? Don't forget that you said long and impressive."
"Mal-"
"Long. Impressive. Make sure to emphasize that in your diary. Long, underline that part."
"Mal-"
"Inara."
She had just looked at him, his hands wrapped around the mug, a smile tipped with the steam from the coffee. She couldn't stay mad for long, beginning and finishing her sentence with a small smile and a shaking head. They both fell silent and turned back to look down at the empty cargo bay. When she finished her drink, she began to pull herself up.
"Wait." Mal whispered. His feet stopped swinging, "Give me a few more seconds."
"Of what?"
"You're company, something other than the walls." He took another sip from his cup, looking down he said, "I got a few more gulps. Think you can wait that long?"
"I have a long day tomorrow."
"And I have a long year. Just a few more minutes."
When he doesn't look at her, Inara gives in. The folds of her robe brushed against the steel frame as she lowered herself down again. Cup empty beside her, she steels a sip from his.
When he tipped the cup, his fingers brushed against her chin and Inara pretended that she swallowed.
He finished two minutes later and they both went to sleep hours after they went to bed.
Inara wore the blue robe with the silver sash that River had picked up for her on some planet two systems back. When River had left it on her pillow for Inara to find, she made the mistake of trying to drop it off during one of Inara's business arrangements. Mal found this out when he awoke to a ruckus in the mess. Simon had a gun to Jayne's head, and River was drawing dirty pictures with strawberrysynth syrup on the walls.
Mal, clad in his space-pajamas and space slippers held his own gun to the both of them, mumbling while turning off the safety about troublesome shipmates and gorram respect for other people's sleep.
"Will someone tell me what in gods name is going on here? See, I was sleeping, and I like sleeping, especially when I'm still doing it, unlike now."
Jayne, clad only in boxers pointed at a manic-Simon, "I'm tellin' you Cap, pretty boy here has gone all tetchy-"
"I AM NOT GOING TETCHY!" Shouted Simon, in the manner of a man who had obviously gone tetchy and beyond. When he waved the gun again even Booke hit the deck, his plate of pancakes cradled safely against his body. River mumbled something about sweat and action verbs, and Simon shoved the gun against Jayne's neck.
"He-He-mol-"
"Spit it out or shoot him, Simon, I ain't got all day." Mal sighed.
"He mol-molested River!"
"DID NOT!" Shouted Jayne, pushing Simon's gun aside, "She's too damn bony, is what she is, why would I wanna do somethin' with a toothpick?"
"Oh, so now she's not good enough?" Simon shouted back, waving the gun dangerously close to an exposed energy manifold, causing Kaylee to suck in a breath.
"Damn straight she ain't good enough, she ain't got no tits on her, what do you want me to say?"
"And then he put it in her-" River wrote on the walls, illustrating the rest of the sentence with judicious use of the peach jam. Simon, if he wasn't too busy protecting his sister's honor and scaring poor Kaylee with his disrespect of exposed manifolds, would have been impressed with her attention to detail.
Mal sighed, and clicked back on the safety. He wouldn't be shooting anyone today, even though he itched to do so. Cleaning his gun earlier had brought on happy memories, many that he wouldn't mind repeating if he got the chance. But Simon had already dropped his own gun, Jayne had left in an angry huff, with a: "I'll be in my bunk." and an emphasized stomp.
Inara had the decency to look ashamed, her fingers twined into the silver sash as she slipped it off. She couldn't really meet Simon's eyes, nor Mal's as she picked her way across the tossed kitchen back to her shuttle. Simon followed her, gun gripped in his hands, fingers stained with peach and strawberry.
Mal wanted to take Simon's place, for all the wrong reasons, but he shrugged, tucked his gun back into his pants and stumbled back to his room, hoping to catch a little shut eye before Earth-morning.
River had recovered; of course. She was so malleable that she would eventually bounce back, just as incoherent as before. Simon wasn't speaking to Inara -or Jayne- and when Kaylee tried to comfort him he just bit his lip and looked down. He knew Kaylee had helped pick out the silver sash with River, he knew that she was friends with Inara; he knew that she held different opinions on companions than he did.
He knew all these things and so did Mal, watching them not talk over coffee. When they landed on Bia Xian Mal decided to handle the pick up of medical supplies himself, give Simon time to talk with his sister, to give himself time away from the ship. Inara had packed him a lunch and he had commented that it wasn't in her job description.
She looked down when he had said that, pressed the cooler shut with an open palm, "Hope you get everything done today, Mal-Captain." She said, before slipping back out into the hallway, "I have an appointment at five, I will not be back for another two days." Her sari scratched against the metal and Mal stopped her by placing a hand against the wall.
"What happened last night?"
She looked up at him, eyes peaking from beneath thick, mascara eyelashes, "Momentary lapse. It will not happen again."
"What do you mean momentary lapse?"
"Apparently I didn't lock the doors."
Mal sighed, letting his hand drop down to cradle a cup the cup of coffee she had prepared, "Apparently you didn't lock the doors enough. This is River, if she was dead set on surprising you, it's no surprise she got in. Don't matter if you locked the door, ain't nothing locked where River is concerned."
"It will not happen again." She repeated her voice a bit stronger, "I have made sure of that." She pushed passed him a bit harder than necessary, pulling her sari close as she stepped down the steps into the hold.
"How?" Mal called out after her, "How can you assure me that River wont come in again?"
She turned to look at him, watching him as he put away the dishes from the sink, "I will no longer be entertaining customers on the ship," She nodded her head before turning to head out again, "Good day Captain."
The doors shut before Mal finished his goodbyes.
He shrugged, sniffed the coffee cup, and then poured the remaining contents into the sink.
Two days later, Firefly was stocked up, medical supplies and everything -even passengers this time around, suitcases, babies and all: a traveling business man with contacts on Pa Hsien, a family out to see the sites, an old gentleman that didn't bother to give reasons and a widow with a piqued interest about Firefly's resident companion. When Inara had come back aboard, several credits richer and sparkling with several new necklaces, Widow Mechetti smiled a little smile that told Mal she was more than satisfied with Firefly's accommodations.
"Captain, darling, you simply must introduce us!" She purred, placing a jeweled hand on his chest and playing with the frayed edges of his vest. She glanced back at Inara's retreating form, "It's so nice to find a well stocked ship, when can I meet her?"
Mal, uncomfortable for disturbingly all the wrong reasons, shrugged and scratched the back of his neck, "Well, uh, you see," He twisted around to look towards someone for help but all he found was the wall, vibrating as Kaylee banged something with something else, somewhere else in the ship.
He was saved by the last person he wanted to help him, when Inara came back. She had deposited her bags and came down the stairs, her hips moving against the inside of the sari, causing both Mal and Widow Mechetti to pretend to look elsewhere.
"Introduce us, Mal," Her voice was silk and Mal's throat felt raw. This wasn't in their contract; he ain't supposed to set up her jobs for her: he was a captain, not a pimp. But Inara was smiling and he knew it wasn't real and he knew that she wouldn't forgive him if he treated her otherwise.
"Companion Inara, this is Widow Mechetti, a passenger heading to Pa Hsien for the winter holidays, she will be with us for the week that it will take to get there." He tipped his head, "I'll leave you two be."
When he slipped out of the cargo hold, he noticed that Inara followed him: her smile towards the widow, her eyes looking at him. He wondered why he felt guilty, why he felt her eyes follow him even though his back was turned. He suspected he was just tired but he couldn't be too sure.
Inara had taken on Mechetti as a client the next day and Mal doubted that the widow saw anything of space beyond the companion's shuttle for the week following. Mal caught her a few times in the kitchen, in the middle of the night preparing coffee. Her hair was usually rumpled, her eyes tired, her hands white as she pulled the coffee beans from the top shelf. When Mal sat down at the table, feet propped up, cup already turned out, she didn't say anything as she filled his cup. They sat there, Inara with her legs crossed and tucked under, Mal with his hands tapping restlessly against the table, cup barely balanced on his stomach. They didn't talk because there was nothing to say, but Inara didn't want to go back to her shuttle for awhile and Mal considered the mess a second home anyway.
When she would finish she would wash both their cups, hand them over for him to dry and slip back into the hallway. Mal would stumble back to his room, a bit drunk off of caffiene, a bit shaken by the lack of words between them.
He would go to sleep hours after he dropped into bed.
Widow Mechetti left Inara, and therefore Serenity, when the week was over, her bags already waiting for her at the docks, her hands missing rings that would appear twined in River's hair weeks later when Inara did make overs for the girls and a passed out Jayne at Cai-shen's infamous starport and hostel. Wash would capture the pictures with his camera and in none of them did Mal appear to be smiling.
Later he would be kicked out of a bar for using pool balls for all the wrong reasons and Inara would collect him from the prison, a chastised expression on her face, a strangely quiet Mal sprawled in the back of her shuttle.
When he woke up he smelled coffee, the same black bean coffee that she made for him almost every night, strained beans and warm water curling in the glass. Quick and he was sitting up, his hand already squeezing around her wrist, drawing the cup in for him to drink. She looked more at his skin touching hers than she did to his eyes.
"Last I remember I was making friends with Polly the Jail lovebird," He pulled the cup from her lax fingers, "Where does this factor into my incarceration? Conjugal visits?"
Inara laughed and he knew she didn't mean it, "I had to collect you, the police were almost happy for me to take you off their hands." She pushed up from the bed, reaching for her cup that sat cooling on the dresser, "Apparently you were insulting the constable's mother a little too accurately."
He laughed and she knew he didn't mean it.
They fell silent again. Mal swung his legs around, setting them firmly on the shuttle's floor before standing up. He stood up too quickly because she had turned back to hand him a warm towel and suddenly she could feel him breathing against her neck. "Well, thank you," He whispered, slipping silently to the side, "I appreciate taking the time outta your busy schedule to collect me."
Inara had collected her self just as quickly as the moment passed, picking up Mal's abandoned coffee.
"I was only doing it for the constable's sanity," She smiled over the curve of the coffee cup.
"Of course. But still I thank you, cause it aint in your job description."
She looked up at him and Mal couldn't bring himself to care what she felt anymore, why bother going tetchy when she knew just as well as he did what she was. Mal slipped on his coat, shrugging it over his shoulders, fingers already finding the button for the door.
"Why do you say that?" She asked and he almost didn't hear it because it almost wasn't a whisper.
He didn't answer because he was almost out the door anyway.
When they barely escaped from the Reavers in the Da-yu pass, Mal had watched as River stopped blabbering incomprehensible nothings, pressed against Jayne as she followed the air with her eyes. Simon had a scalpel held close to his chest, watching the thumps that pushed against the metal of the ceiling. Mal watched Zoe whisper to Wash that everything was going to be alright, as her hand rubbing against his thigh as she pulled him closer and tears pushing out from her eyes as Wash repeated ad nauseam that he loved her. Mal watched Inara cradle Kaylee as she bled out, cradled her white hand as Kaylee lost conscience and escaped the mental anguish of hearing death slip through her precious ship.
Later she will claim that she had been conscience the whole time, that she remembered when Jayne pushed River behind him so when the Reavers finally tore through, him and his favorite gun would be, "The first to face 'em, heck I got a better chance than twig here does." Simon didn't even glance their way and Mal already knew how bad it was going to be.
When he looked back to Zoe and Wash it was only Zoe and she was crying, fingers scratching against a locked access tube where apparently Wash had disappeared down the seconds it took Mal to be scared for them all. She looked at him and mouthed words of pain because Wash was being Wash and being Wash meant that he was going to do anything he could to save them.
Mal had been eyeing the access panel for awhile, waiting for when Wash and Zoe would move so he could do the same. He felt angry and at the time it seemed reasonable: He was the captain, that was his gorram job.
When his fist made a bigger dent than the Reaver's clawing, Inara flinched and pulled Kaylee closer.
When the tell-tale sound of vacuum bit against the room's metal walls, when the sounds of screaming Reavers slipped against their ears Mal wondered who he would kill first: Wash for saving them all, or Zoe for letting him.
Later when Zoe would scream and run and straddle Wash because he "- did it! Oh my god, you did you, you stupid, idiotic, tetchy fool-", Mal found a quicker way back to his room. Later Simon would tell him that pretty much everyone had to evacuate the cargo bay because despite the cold, vacuum washed floor, despite the fact that Wash was bleeding and Zoe was bruised, they had obviously been healthy enough to do it right then and there. Simon was sure that River would be drawing pictures on the walls again.
When Mal told him that he didn't care, that he had work to do and didn't Simon have something better to do than distract the captain of the ship, Simon blushed that pretty boy smile of his and he left the Captain alone in Control.
Simon left Mal and then Mal left Control because he couldn't make decisions quick enough for his comfort. He told Zoe to take over for a few hours: he was going to go over the cargo.
Inara found him in the corner between to hulking boxes containing grain for the Ji Nu colonies. He had set up a sack of grain, throwing a rope up into the rafters and drawing it up to chest level. His hands were wrapped in bandages snurched from the Simon's supplies, already tinted red because it was never enough.
She watched his arms as he slammed into the bag, again, again, and time again until grain dripped steadily onto the hold's floor and his undershirt was stripped with blood and he was breathing so hard that she was afraid that he couldn't hear his bones breaking. She had moved quicker than she thought, because she managed to get between the bag and his fist a little too quickly. She felt the brush of knuckles as his fist slammed into the bag.
The hold echoed his breathing, pushing his stretched lungs and throat against the farthest corners of the room. He watched her, eyes focused because now they always were, watching as her fingers gripped against his fist, gripped as she brought it down, gripped even as she let go. She pulled him closer, pretense being that his hand needed checking, reality being that this was in her job description.
When Mal shoved her against the wall, when he grinded against her with his hips, with his teeth and tongue, when she let his fingers pull against her sari and the sashes that General Holland of Bellamy Five had bought her one night out in Lu Ban, she let him because this was something that she could do.
Mal kissed harder than she imagined, because she had an imagination that despite the 'verse that told her otherwise, would always be prettier than the real. His hands were calloused and left red marks against her ribs. When she would push away, softly grabbing onto his hand, she would pull him towards her shuttle, let him push her against the bed let him do what he needed because she needed it to.
This.
This was in her job description.
Mal would wake up in the morning, would wake up in the morning and draw the blankets against her shoulders and slip out because it was easier than speaking, easier than seeking out an explanation that wouldn't be sufficient anyway.
He found her in the cargo hold, fingers wrapped around a thermos of coffee, feet bare as they dangled. Her cheeks were red, hands redder where they touched the thermos. She looked up at him and offered a sip.
Mal settled himself next to her, taking the proffered thermos watching her as she ducked his glance and focused on the jittery lights. He finished the coffee sip by sip, she trailed the pattern of the floor, both listening as grain slowly spilled out, echoing against the empty cargo bay.