Inara laughed when she felt Mal’s tongue teasing her earlobe and she rolled away, waiting for him to grab hold of her and pull her close. She could nearly taste his rugged, leather and gun oil scent in her mouth. Wiggling under the bed sheets, she waited for his touch, but woke up as her pillow knocked a trinket from her night stand. Sadly, she realized her dreams and opened her eyes to see her half-empty bed. Her very large, red-sheeted, half-empty bed. Practically her office. Her place of business. And while she enjoyed her work, she always imagined sharing this bed with Mal would bring something more than a pleasurable night. There were times between jobs when they would be relaxing to a celebratory dinner or walking about town, and he would talk to her. Real talk. Kind talk. Like a friend, or perhaps more. Those were the moments he truly saw her, and not just her profession. Those were the moments she cherished because he wasn’t seeing her as some helpless damsel in distress that he needed to rescue from a wicked life of prostitution. He saw her. And she could believe in those times that he treasured her, loved her, and wanted only her. Inara couldn’t remember exactly when she fell in love with Mal. With Serenity, it had been love at first sight. She saw the comfort, the faithfulness, and the freedom in the ship. It had taken a bit of time before she realized that there was no difference between Serenity and Mal. Everything his ship was, it was because of him. His life was infused with Serenity. And there were times when she looked into his eyes and she swore she saw freedom. As if freedom were something physical that could be captured in a look. And she reveled in his presence. It was terrifying – her love for Serenity. There was nothing she feared more than love. Love that could make you blind to danger. Love that could open you up to hurt. Whenever she got too close to loving, she left. She thought she could have Serenity’s comfort and faithfulness and freedom without giving herself over to love. At least not completely. Not with reckless abandon. It couldn’t be freedom if she became tied to Serenity. It couldn’t freedom if she could not bring herself to leave. She had to leave the first time. She had to… but she didn’t have to leave again. After all, she’d already proved to herself that she could do it if she wanted to, right? So why was she considering leaving again? Was that love creeping back into her heart? She hadn’t even realized she was crying, her hand stroking the empty pillow beside her, longing to see Mal lying there. Longing to gaze into those blue eyes filled with freedom. Blinking away the tears, Inara donned a blue robe and headed for the dining room. The ship’s air was cold, lacking the fuel required to maintain heat through the night. She looked at the tea kettle on the stove, knowing the water had been cooling for hours – probably since Mal had retired for the evening. Looking down the hall, she could see the bridge was empty. Serenity was asleep, and Inara tiptoed down the hall toward the crew quarters. Quietly, she tipped open the door to Mal’s bunk and climbed down. It was strange the comfort she’d found watching him sleep over the past few weeks. He breathed softly, never snoring, flat on his back, one hand mere inches from his gun, ready. Half the time, he fell asleep fully clothed; the other half, he wore loose pants and no shirt. Inara never cared about much more than the peace on his face and the way his hair splayed at odd angles when it hadn’t been washed. She always stayed at the foot of the ladder, ready to climb out at a moment’s notice should he stir. After so many nights of watching, she recognized the soft snort that always preceded his rise to consciousness, and could avoid most false alarms. She couldn’t help but be plagued with the notion that this made her a stalker. This made her a creep. But she took comfort in the fact that this was not the act of someone who loved another. If she truly loved Mal, she’d tell him to his face; she wouldn’t sneak in and watch him sleep. Therefore, she couldn’t possible love him, so there was nothing to be afraid of. At least that’s what she told herself. The proximity alarm sounded and Inara jumped out of her skin, banging her head on the ladder as she turned. Not waiting for her vision to clear, she darted up the ladder, already hearing Mal rolling groggily to his feet. She was just barely through the door to the galley when Mal’s head poked into the hallway. Hopefully he wouldn’t notice that she’d left the door open. He definitely saw her, and she nodded, trying to look appropriately concerned and nonchalant. She’d set the water to boil. That would be a good excuse. Mal disappeared onto the bridge, silencing the alarm, and she felt their course alter slightly. A few minutes later, he wandered into the galley, and smiled apologetically when he saw Inara. She hid behind the stove, watching the tea kettle, willing the water to boil. “Mind if I join you?” Mal asked, reaching around her to gather a pair of tea cups. Inara pressed her lips together, not meeting his eyes, but she went to the cupboard and found a jasmine tea bag for herself and a white tea for Mal. He’d been so opposed to trying it, but once she’d convinced him to taste it, he had became downright obsessive about hoarding the leaf. Just the memory of his first taste was enough to bring a smile to her face. “This trade route seems well-populated,” Mal remarked warmly as an explanation of the proximity alarm. “Fortunately everyone seems to have their own cargo and no one wants ours.” Inara couldn’t tell if she was supposed to speak, and she had little to say anyway. She was waiting for him to comment on the fact that the door to his bunk was open and to start ranting about bounty hunters. Would she stop him? She wasn’t sure. Focusing on the task at hand, she opened the tea bags and placed them in the waiting cups, then picked up the tea kettle and poured the hot water. Before she knew it, Mal’s hand was on her face. “Whoa, that’s quite a bump you got there,” he observed, running his finger over the tender bruise she’d gotten while fleeing his bunk. Inara winced, but didn’t pull away. “It’s nothing,” she dismissed quickly, setting the tea kettle down before it could betray her shaking hands. “I just bumped it when the alarm sounded.” He nodded, letting the half-truth slide, taking both cups of tea and setting them on the table, placing it so that she would take the seat next to his. She complied quietly, feeling herself blush as she felt him staring at her. How strange and surreal this moment felt. Between her dream earlier and watching him sleep, she’d lost her center. Lost that cool, proper mask she always wore around him. Mal moaned contentedly as he drank his tea, savoring the sweet flavor, inhaling the scent, letting it absorb him. He grinned when he caught her staring and Inara blushed again. “That’s gonna be purple in the mornin’ if we don’t put somethin’ on it,” he said, pointing to her forehead, bracing his knees against the table to tip his chair back. Inara reached for her face self-consciously, but he caught her hand. For a moment their eyes locked, neither knowing what to do. Was she dreaming again? “Mal,” she whispered uncertainly, fighting with herself over whether or not to pull away. He let go of her hand with a friendly smile, as if it were nothing. As if it were normal. Her hand fell to the table, abandoned, and for a moment, all she wanted was for him to reach out again. “Skin’s broke. You shouldn’t touch it,” he explained gently, his eyes soft with apology. “Come on, let’s see what’s stashed in the Infirmary that can fix this before it uglies you up.” Inara dropped her eyes, looking for an excuse in the swirls of her tea, but came up empty. Mal’s hand was on her arm this time, prompting her to stand, indicating she was free to take the tea with her if she wanted to finish, but she didn’t really. Perhaps she could find her professional demeanor as she walked. But did she want to? Mal led her to the Infirmary, insisted that she sit on the bed, and played doctor, goofily sterilizing the wound and bandaging it with the smallest “X” he could make with first aid bandages. After a bit of show and spilling a jar full of cotton swabs, he found a cold compress and held it to her head, all the while telling random stories and jokes. When she took the compress from him to hold it herself, he sat next to her on the bed, his shoulder touching hers, pretending it was just the limited space that compelled him to do so. She laughed and bumped against him, enjoying his company. Enjoying the way he saw her. Enjoying the feel of his hand on hers whenever she let the compress fall from her forehead. Comfort, faithfulness, freedom. Serenity. As the evening waned and the cold compress warmed, Inara rested her head tiredly on Mal’s shoulder and his arm slipped around her waist, holding her upright, as if there were nothing unusual about it at all. It occurred to her that they should leave the Infirmary before anyone woke up and found them there together. She didn’t want to get their hopes up. Didn’t want them to think she was staying when she might not. But then, her head was resting on Mal’s shoulder. If she left, she’d be a terrible tease. Furrowing her brow in confusion, Inara rubbed the bandage Mal had placed on her forehead. “Do you really think it’ll leave a mark?” she asked, concerned about everything but the question she’d just asked. Mal squeezed her lightly and kissed her wound. “That’s what you get for sneakin’ into the Captain’s bunk.”

*~*

The saga continues with Sneaking Into the Companion's Shuttle