The noise was too quiet for it to be Jayne. Mal knew the racket his gun hand made, tossing the kitchen late at night, following his nose and indulging in general bruinitry. Wash and Zoe never came up for air once they bedded down, and Kaylee would usually come find him on the rare occasions - usually lovelorn over some boy - she couldn't sleep through the night shift.

And there she was. Called her she in his head most of the time, no one else in there to ask him to clarify. Some kind of danger, some kind of not-to-be-indulged-in weakness, in just the saying of her name. He knew she'd returned from her appointment; Wash had told him hours ago, when her shuttle docked. But she hadn't emerged, and he hadn't taken the trouble to go calling. Taken the trouble is right, he thought. Nothing but trouble when the two of them were together, no matter how innocuous the conversation started.

As he moved closer, Mal could hear a steady, whispering stream, words he couldn't make out, as Inara kept up the oddly awkward battle she was waging against whatever she had on the counter. Reminded him of some of the old ladies at service on Shadow, whispering to themselves throughout the preacher's sermon, muttering their personal liturgies. He stepped softly behind her.

"Amen?"

The noise Inara made would have been a shriek if she hadn't swallowed it as she whirled around. Her eyes were wild for the scant moment before she recognized him, and she brandished a weapon above her left shoulder.

Okay, not a weapon. An ice cube tray, one she'd apparently been wrestling with the whole time.

"Captain." She half-closed her eyes and shook her head in weary scorn. "Would it break you to spend the copper to buy a tray that one can extract ice from without having to be some kind of muscle-bound - " she banged the tray against the counter, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, to punctuate her litany. Scratchy little chunks of ice skittered onto the counter and the floor, but the cubes themselves remained stuck.

"Nothin' wrong with that tray - use two hands, you just gotta twist - " Mal reached for the tray while Inara, fresh annoyance on her face, brought her hand up to shoo him away. He hadn't intended it, but he bumped the tray against her shooing hand, and she jerked it back, hissing in pain.

"What in the ruttin' hell-" he demanded, looking from her hand to her face.

"I hurt my hand. I need some ice." Inara half turned, moved her right arm against her so her hand disappeared into the folds of her robe.

Mal shook his head. "Show me." He crossed his arms and waited, filling the galley's doorway.

The only change in Inara's expression for the next several seconds was a very slight pursing of her lips. Her eyes held his the entire time, as if challenging him to say something. What the hell is she so riled about? Mal asked himself. Things hadn't been the shiniest between them last few days, but...then she withdrew her hand, exhaling brusquely, and extended it to Mal.

The hand was swollen around and between each knuckle - Mal took it in his two, turned it over gingerly, noticed some bruises emerging on her pink, uncalloused palm and fingers. A purple mark circled one puffy finger; she had obviously been wearing a ring when - something hot and bilious rise through him as a list of ugly possibilities started to assemble itself for roll call.

"Who." He was still supporting her hand with both of his own.

"Mal, it's not - "

"Who did this to your hand, Inara. Your client? That distinguished-looking older gent? Thought you called him a friend." He looked up at her face, noticed an odd sheen on her neck. He leaned closer, lifted her hair away. There was a constellation of bruises under the salve she'd applied.

Inara did not reply.

He made his voice soft and patient. "Tell me what happened." Mal knew she didn't need him scaring her more, so he rode herd on the anger trampling his insides.

He watched her start to say it three different ways before she got the sentence out. "It's not what you think."

"He hurt you." Mal wondered if the old man had ever felt hands around his neck.

Her answer was immediate, reproachful. "Talus would - no!"

"No one gets to hurt you, Inara." Mal chose not to dwell on the reason for the incredulous look she sent him. Instead, he twisted the ice cube tray and shook out several loose cubes. He wrapped them in a towel and handed the bundle to Inara.

"We had picnicked in one of the parks, in a secluded area. The valet had stayed behind to gather our supplies back to the transport, and Talus and I decided to walk. The park is very lovely, and cool in the shade. We were set upon by..." Inara was silent for a while, her brow uncharacteristically furrowed "thieves. There were two men." She left the galley, and Mal was surprised when she sat down at the end of the dining table, resting her hand on the ice pack. He'd assumed she was returning to her shuttle.

"Your hand?" Mal took the chair to her left.

Inara let out a deep breath. "I hit one of them. Not correctly, I haven't practiced in - "

He wanted to laugh, though few things had ever been less funny to him. "Ever been in an actual dustup?"

"They were...menacing my friend. Talus is no longer a young man, and his health has not -"

"Should have run for help." Annoyed respect bloomed through him for her courage.

"You wouldn't tell Zoe that."

"Zoe's a soldier - you're a - "

"Whore?"

Mal scowled. "Wasn't gonna say that." Lady was the word that had been on his tongue. Another thing that didn't bear too close an examination.

Inara's scowl mirrored his own, not bothering to hide her annoyance. "What I should have done is of no consequence after the fact. Thank you for the ice cubes, Captain."

It was clear she was trying to dismiss him.

"You got home hours ago," Mal observed. "Why'nt you come sooner?"

"I...woke in the night." Inara's glance flicked to the seating area near the table.

"I know you got smoothers in your shuttle." A nightmare. Putting the pieces together now. Thugs knock the old man out, then they're alone in the woods with an unarmed woman...Mal tried not to let his face show the dread he was feeling.

"I've already been interviewed, Captain," she explained. "At the hospital. Talus has been admitted until his injuries are seen to." Inara watched her own hand as she turned it over in the dim light from the galley. "This is the worst of mine."

"But someone laid hands to you."

Inara smoothed the fingers of her uninjured hand slowly over the bruises on her neck. "Yes," she nodded.

"Inara," he said, making his voice as gentle as he could, "did they - "

"No." Her voice was curt. "There was no...forcible...sexual assault." Using her formal language, Mal thought, the way she did when she was upset. "He had my throat and - he was shaking me - "

"How did you..? Tell me what they look like. Might not be far from that park. "

"They're in custody." Inara took a shallow breath, her hand at her throat. "A rider came up the path - "

"Got yourself a hero, did you? Was he - " Mal didn't know himself how he meant to end that question. Gallant? he mocked inwardly with the word he'd been using to punish himself in the days since their gorram fight about the gorram orphans.

"She." Hump. Chucklehead. Jayne. Here she is, scared out of her bed in the night and you're pleased she ain't got a dashing young rescuer to sigh over. Mal had to stifle a groan of self-disgust as he contemplated Inara sighing over the unnamed, undoubtedly lovely she on horseback.

"She must have heard me - or them - and as she got closer they stopped - " Inara's eyes seemed to look inward at the memory. "They ran off. They weren't armed; it seemed more a crime of opportunity than anything more troubling."

"But it's got you spooked."

Her annoyance was clear. "I'm not a horse, Mal."

"True." He'd heard the fatigue in her voice. "Let's get you to bed."

"I'm not - I'll stay here for a while." Inara indicated the ice. "So I can put the towel back."

Mal watched her shift as in discomfort on the wooden chair. He'd never seen Inara fidget before, not even a little. "Be more comfortable on the couch," he said, inclining his head to the seating area behind him.

"I think I will sit there for a moment." Inara crossed and chose a seat, Mal noticed, in the middle of the sofa. So her back was as close as possible to the corner. So no one could get behind her. He'd done the same, in his bunk on the long, bad nights - he knew Zoe had too. Mal frowned to himself; she'd been badly rattled, bad enough that she didn't want to go back to her shuttle. He stood.

"Good night, Captain." She wasn't looking at him.

Mal sat down beside her, leaving a little space between them. "Thought I'd take my ease here as well."

"Don't." Inara rearranged the towel around the ice.

"You're out of your head tired, jumping at every little thing. Just sit there and close your eyes a spell - I'll keep you company."

"It's just that no one has ever - I'll be fine." Some grit in her voice.

"Course you will. Fine and fluffy in the morning, but you been shook up some. Only natural you're having a hard time settling in. First night's the worst. I'll just - "

"You're not my hero, Mal."

He kept his expression unruffled. "Ain't that the truth. More's the pity to you if I were - mean old no-account smuggler to the rescue." Mal wondered, so fleetingly it barely registered, what it was that a man might do to qualify, in her eyes.

Inara began, "I'll just - "

He raised a skeptical eyebrow. "What're you fixin' to do? Wake up Little Kaylee and scare her to bits too? Go knockin' on Jayne's bunk? I ain't given you much reason to admire me, and you don't need to - but you're on my boat and when someone needs seeing to, I do the - seeing."

Inara gave a slow sigh, and perhaps unstiffened just a bit against the cushions of the couch.

"What do you advise?" Half-mocking.

"Just keep talking to me."

Inara looked doubtful. "Talking to you will make my nightmare go away?"

"Settle back now, close your eyes, just keep on with the listening to what you undoubtedly consider my coarse and annoying voice." He got a smile for that, kept his own smile to himself as he watched her relax a little against the ratty green upholstery.

"And how is this supposed to comfort me?"

"You hear me every day - when I'm not out doing - or when you're not out doing -" Mal made an exasperated sound. "The point is, familiar helps."

Inara eased out of her slippers, tucked them one-handed into the dubious, webby space under the couch.

"Take care of this in the morning - got some free time anyhow."

"Hmmm?" Her gaze flickered toward him.

"They're in lockup, right? Easy peasy - first thing I hop down, get myself pinched, make it so those fellas' hands ain't fit for squeezin' their own - "

"Please don't bother." She was closing her eyes, from fatigue or maybe just annoyance.

"No bother at all, darlin'. Zoe'll have me out before my coffee gets cold." Another smile - that smile, Mal thought, ought to come with a blue ribbon for whatever fella called it forth.

Inara folded her legs up under her as she leaned further into the couch. "Talus' private security team apprehended the men."

"Oh." Well, getting pinched wouldn't have been that fun. Maybe he'd find someone else to beat on tomorrow. Maybe one of Badger's boys. She was relaxing, he needed to keep her talking. About what? Their recent day at the beach? Too many uncomfortable associations; he didn't aim to get her all riled up again, although he preferred mad Inara to scared Inara any day. Her picnic? He wasn't keen to hear about all the luxuries another man could lavish on her.

"Kaylee's getting around well with her crutch."

He watched her nod. "Even up and down the stairs; she came to see me this morning - yesterday morning, I mean."

"Got a report about that."

"Report?"

"From Jayne. He wanted to know if I sanctioned the particular kind of recreation you womenfolk been indulging in." And Mal related Kaylee's mischievous joke at the big man's expense.

Inara's eyes flew open, warm with merry delight at her mei mei's rascally sense of humor. "There's no one like Kaylee."

"Not in all the turning worlds."

The silence grew between them, over the faint mechanical humming from the galley.

"Tell me about this lady on horseback." Mal leaned sideways onto the couch cushions, facing her, his arms folded over each other. Already knew the woman must be rich, to keep and stable a horse in the city.

Inara's eyes closed again. "Her name's Rodberta." She brushed her hair back and away from her face and neck. "She came to check on us in the hospital. Stayed with Talus all evening."

"That's a kindness." Mal rested his head against the cushion, his eyes still on her face. "How's he faring?"

"He was concussed, and some ribs were bruised, but he'll be going home soon."

"This Rodberta know him?"

"I think their families are acquainted." Her voice was getting softer. Mal watched her stroke her sore arm with the uninjured hand, snuggle her shoulders into a more comfortable position. "She's very..." a long pause. Inara was nearly asleep now, "thoughtful." Her eyebrows glided just a tiny bit above her closed lids.

This was probably the longest he'd gotten to look at her freely. Mal quickly recalculated - downward - his estimated hours of sleep tonight. "How's that?"

"She brought her...brother...so I wouldn't have to be..." Inara tucked her gown more tightly around her bare toes, rubbed her own knee a few times as if soothing herself.

"Very thorough, your new friend." Mal watched her hand moving slowly, doing all the things someone might do to comfort her, someone who was allowed to touch her. He might have taken that hand, had he remembered about such things. It had been too long since he'd held the hand of someone who wasn't dying.

Even her smile was sleepy now. "Nice to make friends... they've invited me for luncheon tomorrow." Her lips parted and closed, so delicately. Poppies, nodding in the breeze.

"Rodberta?" He kept his voice near a whisper. Her minky lashes trembled against her cheek as her eyes moved slightly behind closed lids.

One slow nod. "And her brother."

"What's his name?" He wasn't even sure that she'd heard him. Mal was tired, but it was so hard to close his eyes with her before him like this. Completely bewitching, just the way she breathed.

Another smile, she was completely relaxed and mostly asleep now. The name was no more than a murmur.

"Atherton."

--

When she opened her eyes she saw him sleeping, arms still crossed, shoulders hunched against a wind that wasn't blowing through the dining area. She'd never gotten a chance to look at him, to watch him unguardedly. His hair was getting a little long. Of course he hadn't shaved yet, and though the light was dim Inara could see the minute bristling line where his whiskers met his lips. One foot was tucked under the back of the other knee - he still wore his boots.

She closed her eyes again, listening to him breathe. Remembered him, his voice, during the night.

"Just me, carry on sleepin', just puttin' this blanket over - " and prepared, calmed by his voice, the touch of the blanket had not wakened her. The back of his warm hand against her chilled upper arm, a moment before he tugged the blanket higher over her, had been no cause for alarm even during this troubled night: she'd heard his voice and had known she was on Serenity, home, safe.

Inara opened her eyes, gathered in her hands the faded but clean blanket that Kaylee always left folded across one arm of the nearby chair. She moved it to the side, retrieved her slippers, and stood, pulling the blanket into her hands again.

Following his example, her quietest voice. "Mal." Inara leaned closer, his name a mere breath. "I'm going now, you might like this blanket, here - " and she moved to drape it over his shoulder and back.

It seemed that he was on his feet before his eyes were fully open, yanking the blanket to the ground. "'Nara!" he rasped wildly before he saw her standing in front of him.

Mal rubbed his forehead, shifted his chaotic hair through his fingers. "Not much for sound sleepin' any more."

"I'm sorry to have disturbed you - it's as you said, I'm feeling much calmer now and I'm returning to my shuttle." From her current, more rational state of mind, Inara found it faintly embarrassing, the intimacy of having had the Captain talk her to sleep as if she were a homesick adolescent. She told herself he'd simply used his knowledge of traumatic circumstance to assess, correctly, her short-term difficulties, and that his suggestion had been the most effective course of action.

It would be only proper to offer thanks to anyone who'd helped her through a trying circumstance. Inara made her smile politic. "I thank you for your attention to me this evening. It was very generous of you to give up your bed. Good night." She did not linger to hear what reply he might make in his sleep-roughened voice. Every step of the way to her bed, she kept herself firmly in hand. Reflecting on his words in the night, on the carefully unobtrusive touch on her arm, on the peaceful and vulnerable look of him, relaxed into sleep - all of this was fruitless and foolish. Inara set her mind firmly on her new friends and no one else as she lay down to catch a last hour of sleep.

--

He patrolled the hallways of his ship, his home, for the rest of the night. Stopped in his bunk to shave and pull on fresh clothes. Mal was in no mood to explain to anyone why he might not have been in his bunk for the night. He didn't want to hear more of what she'd said to him when she'd left him in the night, of the polished and distancing pronouncements she always seemed to have at the ready. He did not want to admit how much he preferred the soft, dimly-registered voice, whispering his name in the moments before the blanket grazed him and his mind snapped into the panicked wakefulness he'd resigned himself to after the war.

It couldn't have been more evident, her distaste at having needed his help the night before. Mal could understand it - she certainly did not want him to think she encouraged any familiarity or intimacy between them. She'd had a problem; he'd understood what was needed. The sleepy flush of her cheeks, the contented sigh he'd heard of her as she slept - none of it mattered a whit.

He may as well not have bothered. Inara did not come to breakfast. She left in her shuttle while he busied himself elsewhere.

--

Inara told herself that the day at the Wing estate was precisely the diverting curative she needed. She had first gone to Talus' private suite at the hospital - the visit was brief, but it was a relief to see her friend.

"My sweet girl, how do you fare?" he'd called from his bed.

"Much better, now that I can speak with you." Inara pressed a fond kiss to Talus' forehead. She'd known him since the earliest days of her career, and had always felt a genuine warmth toward the older man.

He'd frowned, his eyes tearing at the sight of her bruises. "Darling Inara, you should have run down the path! Michal might have heard you." The reproachful affection in the elderly valet's face echoed his master's words.

Inara touched his cheek. "How could I leave you, Talus? Would you have me be so faithless, after all our years of friendship?"

He shook his head at her. "You should have run."

--

When Inara's shuttle landed, Rodberta greeted her with warm congeniality - she seemed to regard Inara as a comrade, as an intrepid fellow adventurer, after the night before. Her brother Atherton spared no effort to see to her comfort and entertainment. He had exclaimed over her courage, her brave devotion to her friend, her self-possession in the hospital after the attack.

"And that such an extraordinary woman should also be possessed of a beauty so sublime that it puts the very dawn to shame? It's a marvel, I can't imagine what I've done to deserve your precious acquaintance." With tender solicitude, Atherton tucked Inara's injured hand into the crook of his arm as they toured the family's formal gardens after lunch.

"You were kindness itself, accompanying your sister to attend to the comfort of a stranger last night." Inara smiled at the young man. She was aware that he was amusing himself with his own flowery manners, with his elaborate compliments, but it was comforting to be treated with such delicacy.

"If I could truly earn your admiration, a woman of your accomplishments and grace, I should count myself happy to the end of my days."

For the hours of the afternoon, it proceeded in the same manner. During Rodberta's recital in the conservatory, while the three of them took a turn about the estate in the open carriage, conversing over the afternoon tea the servants brought them; Atherton devoted himself to anticipating every want or concern Inara might have.

After tea, Atherton guided Inara into the solarium for a stroll through his family's bonsai collection. "I have an entreaty to make, and I can only pray that you will not find me hopelessly forward."

Inara smiled her encouragement at Atherton.

"I realize that these inquiries are generally made through your Guild's interface, but I find my ardor for you is growing ungovernable. My dear Inara, if your professional commitments allow it, I would consider it an honor to engage you this evening." Atherton grinned disarmingly, and turned his head away. "I cannot bear to face you now; I tremble in fear of a rejection that will surely leave me miserable forever. Please deal gently with me, sweet lady."

Inara sighed through her smile. "Well, I wouldn't want you miserable forever..."

--

Never could get to three in a row. Last two jobs had been notable for the absence of blood, bruises, and treachery. But this was Badger's job, and the puffed-up bantam had found it necessary to send two other crews to collect the goods he'd sent Mal to - locals, probably agreed to work for cheaper and Badger thought he'd trim expenses.

Thought he'd also make a point, apparently, as to his opinion of Mal's character or demeanor or wardrobe or - Mal stopped pondering what, exactly, might have inspired Badger to encourage the local toughs to practice their thrashing skills on him. His face. His body. Parts of him he supposed he'd taken for granted, that they'd just do what body parts ought to do, just stay attached and not scream in pain everytime he blinked.

So Jayne, muttering foul and violent desire, had scraped the worst of the blood and dust off of him and dragged him to the mule. A grim-faced Zoe drove them home, and helped him into the infirmary. Mal touched his face - it was no pulpier than the hand doing the touching. Not much appeared to be broken, just powerfully dented. The smoother Zoe injected him with had made the pain within spitting distance of tolerable - not that it was within his power to spit at this moment.

The drugs were making his mind tilt, but he was pretty sure the Inara that was crossing the infirmary's threshold was the real Inara, rather than some kind of embarrassingly predictable hallucination. He tried to move his smiling muscles as she came close. Something on his face felt sticky.

"Hey, darlin'." Mal attempted to make both eyes do the same thing at the same time. "Made me feel better...knowin' you'd be along...to fuss over me...got your little basket?"

Her eyes were intent as she looked him up and down. She hadn't said a word. "Don't fret. I'm...not even stabbed this time. Zoe - "

"She told me." Something in Inara's voice made him try to get a look at her face. "I spoke to Zoe. You'll live." The gown she was wearing might have been new - Mal hadn't seen it before. Dark purple, fancy, fitted distractingly over her curves. A golden shawl floated against her shoulders like an enchanted fog.

"What are you lookin' at?"

"I'm looking for a fresh place to slap."

"Humh?" Mal was really hoping not to get slapped.

"It's one thing to get waylaid by criminals. It's another to have so little regard for your own life and health that you will willingly consort with them! The only reason you're alive, Mal, is that they didn't bother to kill you - and you don't care that you terrify - all of us. You'll heal, you'll limp around looking alarming for a few days, then go right back out and do the same thing again."

"There wasn't any consortin' goin' on - I'd only just met those fellas." he tried woozily.

"Don't imagine for a moment that I find you funny! And don't you dare lose consciousness when I'm speaking to you!" Inara gave the bed rail a formidable shake.

"I'm here, I'm here, just - don't shake me no more, darlin'." Mal tried to tap at the fingers still curled around the bed rail, and missed.

"You're here - stay here. I won't. And when your luck runs out and you do get yourself killed, I will not - " the sentence was punctuated by a low, oddly fierce growl. "I'm going. I have work to do."

--

Inara shook her head to clear the image of Mal's bruised and swollen face from her mind. She would not believe that he was cut from the same cloth as the men who had assaulted her, who had beaten a defenseless old man for the chance of a few coins. But it seemed obvious that he entered into business dealings with the worst sort of criminals, that he'd risk their viciousness and treachery for the money at stake.

She knew it was a delusion to think he'd always scrape by, always make it home. One day, any day, he could cross paths with someone who would take his life without a care for how much... everyone, she supplied firmly, needed him. For a moment, an unbearable picture of him, bloodied and lifeless, just a discarded body in some filthy alley, plagued her mind and she gasped in fresh pain as horror ripped through her.

She found herself standing still on the stairs; for how long it had been she didn't know. Every instinct in her heart implored her to turn around, go to him, hear his voice, watch him sleep, keep him - what? Safe? No vigilance of hers, no conjuration of her hands over his skin could armor him and keep this, or worse, from happening again.

Or he could be captured. Imprisoned, indentured, his ship confiscated and sold. His independence and dignity ripped away, which she realized would be tantamount to death for him. Inara knew Mal wasn't a stupid man - he had to be cognizant of the risks, and yet continued making his living in the same way.

Inara let a brief prayer pass again and again through her mind as she resumed her walk toward the shuttle.

--

She wasn't back until late the next morning. By that time Mal had forgone smoothers in favor of being able to walk upright and feed himself solidish food, and was heading toward the cargo bay to see about something he'd stashed a while ago that might be bartered for fuel cells. Hearing the shuttle dock slowed him up more - she was bound to be much faster than him at the moment, and he didn't relish another scolding.

When her door opened, he stopped altogether, to watch her exit the shuttle on the arm of an affluent and self-satisfied-looking young man. Last night's job, he assumed. Mal watched him keep up a continual stream of talk, bending close to Inara's ear in genial familiarity. The man's eyes, though, scrutinized every inch of Serenity's homely interior, and the smirk he very nearly hid communicated his gleeful scorn eloquently.

They strolled, arm in arm, to the cargo bay doors where a sleek transport vehicle hummed in waiting for the man. At the doors they paused, obviously exchanging pleasantries before a goodbye. The man kissed each of Inara's cheeks, kissed both hands while she laughed her protests and then bent, laughing himself, as if to kiss each of her fingertips. Mal watched her withdraw her hands, laughing softly while maybe chiding the man indulgently for his frivolity; he satisfied himself instead with caressing her hair, stroking her cheek, and kissing, very lightly, her smiling lips.

Inara watched the man descend the cargo bay ramp and seat himself in his transport, alongside the waiting driver. The man waved, blew a kiss to her with a flourish - but in spite of all his amiability, there was something appraising and cold about the last glance he spent on Serenity.

Mal could not read Inara's expression as she turned away from the doors and headed toward the stairs. He did see that she ascended the steps to her shuttle without once looking back.

--

"I got the message that you waved, my dear."

Seneca's smile was warm, but her face was full of loving concern. "Yes, I wanted to speak to you as soon as I heard word of the attack. Are you quite all right, mei mei? I can arrange transportation to Persephone if you need me."

"No, I know you would, but that's not necessary. I'm fine - and Talus has been released from the hospital." Inara took a deep breath, exhaled with a shake of her head. "It was unpleasant, certainly. the first night was...difficult, but I am none the worse for it." Because of Mal. And how had she repaid his kindness? Inara remembered their night on the beach, the morning after. It seemed that any closeness brought pain to both of them; what else was there to do?

Inara's words must have reassured her friend, because Seneca's eyes began to twinkle with good humor. "And you apprehended the criminals single-handedly?"

"Whatever do you mean?" Inara gave a puzzled laugh.

"That's the story in the dormitories. We're all inspired by your bravery, darling."

"Honestly - they set upon us so quickly - I only did the first thing that came to mind. And I got thoroughly choked for my trouble." Inara stroked soft fingers over the purpling bruises on her neck.

"And all is...well, otherwise?" Seneca's tone was so laden with sly insinuation, Inara couldn't help but be suspicious.

"Yes, I'm fine. What is this about?"

"I was wondering." Her smile was luminous with affection, with certainty. "Are you carrying his baby yet?"

"Seneca, please! Discretion! There is nothing going on between the Captain and myself." A mistake, and the very one Inara knew her friend had hoped for.

"Really? Interesting, then, how you assumed Captain Reynolds was the man to whom I referred."

Inara knew better than to hope that the blush stinging across her face had escaped her friend's notice. "I assumed you to be tormenting me, as always, with your outlandish imagination."

"I've seen your Captain. He invites - imagination." Seneca was nearly purring.

"Maybe for those who lack the pleasure of a personal acquaintance -" Inara suppressed the scowl she was feeling, and instead smiled confidingly. "I should tell you, I have just concluded a lovely engagement with a perfectly charming young gentleman."

"Yes?" She arched a perfect tawny eyebrow.

"Indeed - he's Atherton Wing. His sister came to my aid in the park. They're from one of the oldest families on Persephone."

"And you like him?"

"He was perfectly charming - "

"You already said that, mei mei."

"He spent the entire day and night attending to my every wish and comfort. No one could hope for a more amiable and complimentary acquaintance."

"We'll see."

"What is there to see?"

"Dear heart, if this young man crosses your mind three days hence, then I'll be interested."

Inara had been friends with Seneca for years, and despite her friend's delight in teasing, there was a deep trust between them. To no one else would Inara ask the question she now posed. "Should I have run?" she whispered without preamble, knowing there was no one more likely to understand her.

Seneca's face, incomparably beautiful when she laughed, grew now quiet and grave. In her eyes was love and a wellspring of compassion. "Darling, I think it's too late for that now."