CHAPTER 5

Mal found Inara fixing tea for herself in the early morning hours, probably hoping to steal some food before anyone else stirred. Her face had the tranquil glow of a woman who’d spent the last hour in prayer, and Mal could make out a faint smile on her lips. “Mornin’,” Mal greeted cautiously, pulling out a cup so he could share in the tea she was making. “Hello, Mal.” She kept her eyes averted. “Sorry about what I said yesterday. About …” Mal dropped his head abashedly, wiping out the empty cup with his finger. “I didn’t mean to upset you.” “You wanted to rile me,” she countered. “I –,” he began, almost suckered by her bait. But he didn’t want to fight her. “Not like that. That’s quite a cut you got there. Painted over it pretty thick.” “You can see?” she asked, touching her forehead self-consciously. Mal suddenly wished he hadn’t mentioned it. “I hit it when I was taking down some of the tapestries,” Inara lied. “You don’t have to do that.” “Mal, I can’t –” “I mean …” She thought he was asking her to stay! “I can get Jayne to help you with the heavy stuff.” “That won’t be necessary,” Inara smiled in her coy, condescending way. She poured the tea, then looked at him graciously, and he felt the anger rise as he made out the ridge of her well-concealed cut and black eye. “‘Nara, I’m sorry for what I said earlier.” “You said that already.” “Right. I just…” Mal wanted to tell her he knew what had happened. Wanted to tell her he would kill that man if they ever met face to face. He wanted to tell her not to leave. He wanted to say a billion things, but instead he just sipped his tea and backed out of the room like a coward. “I got a few things to get done before lunch. You joinin’ us today?” “I’m not sure.” “Mattie’s preparing something fun. I swear if we had the coin, I’d bring her on as ship’s cook. Always wanted a cook.” Inara smiled hopefully at him as he left. “Maybe.”

*~*

Inara sat at the dining room table, relishing the smells bubbling over from Mattie’s three-pot meal. Whatever she was making, it smelled almost as good as fresh food. Mattie stirred with two hands, favoring her splinted one, one of Jayne’s t-shirts thrown over her clothes like an apron. Her black hair was in pigtails, throwing her bruised jaw into sharp relief, but her pink lips and blue eyes were all smiles. She tasted a red sauce in one of the pots, then turned the heat low and set it to simmer. “That smells wonderful,” Inara said warmly, sipping her wine, briefly forgetting her pain and feeling lavish. She’d opened the bottle the night before because she was upset, but had decided to share it with the others at the meal once she’d caught the scent of Mattie’s cooking. It would compliment nicely. “What is it?” “A surprise,” Mattie answered, a mischievous twinkle in her eye. “Well, it’s the same protein you always have, but it’ll taste surprising.” “Where did you learn to cook?” “My gramma. You?” “My mother taught me a few dishes when I was younger, but most of what I know I learned at the Academy. They don’t really have a course in protein mash.” Mattie laughed. “It’s all seasoning and substitution. Your spice cabinet is running bare.” “I’m sure it hasn’t been properly stocked since the Shepherd left. He always knew what to buy.” “Shepherd?” Mattie repeated, yanking one of the larger pots off the stove before it bubbled over. “The Captain doesn’t seem the type to have a Shepherd on board.” “He isn’t really,” Inara agreed, looking wistfully at her wine. “Mal gave up his faith long ago. He wants to forget most days. He wants… Actually, I’m not sure what he wants. I wish he’d just come out and say it.” “Perhaps he doesn’t know himself,” Mattie suggested, stirring the sauce again. “Then I wish he’d say he was confused and let me set him straight. He can be so stubborn.” “Why do you care so much?” “Because I –” Inara stopped, realizing she’d almost confessed her love for Mal to a stranger, when she’d hardly had the strength to confess it to herself. She looked at Mattie who simply nodded conspiratorially and focused on her cooking. Inara sipped her wine, searching for the professional mask she always wore. When had that fallen off? “You have no idea the trust you engender,” Inara admired. Mattie shrugged. “Everyone trusts the chef. The trade of food for secrets is as old as the ‘verse.” “Is that why you cook?” Inara grinned. Mattie shook her head. “No. I cook because whoever prepared the meal the first night I was here… Well, I suppose I shouldn’t speak ill of your friends.” Inara realized she was laughing more than she had in days, and it wasn’t just the wine. “It’s okay to speak ill of their cooking. I’ve tasted it myself.” “Have you told the Captain what happened?” Inara’s smile vanished. “What do you mean?” Mattie didn’t speak, but motioned around her face. Inara’s eyes went straight to the red liquid in her glass. “You can see that?” she whispered, horrified. “Not so much today, but I did yesterday,” she confessed. “Why wouldn’t you tell him?” Inara took a longer gulp of her wine. “Oh, he’d hasten to my rescue, turn the ship around, hunt down that man, and kill him.” “Everyone has their own sense of justice I suppose.” “I suppose. His is simply too long removed from civilization.” Inara crinkled her brow, and winced as the skin folded around the aged cuts and bruises. “Perhaps I am too, because a part of me wants to tell him just so he’ll do it.”

*~*

River nailed her sheet to the wall to get it at a better angle. She needed paint. Charcoal. Grease. Just sketch for now. A shadow had fallen on Serenity. Shadows, obstacles, walls. River drew the wall, being careful not to draw on the wall because Mal had yelled at her last time. Trust but no support. Barriers to protect that leave everyone in a cell, alone, free to be poked, prodded, and played at. River snagged at the sheet, pulling a thread that upset the whole length of the fabric. “Don’t you see,” she explained urgently to the people in her picture. “When one is hurt, it affects you all. Don’t you see?” “River?” She ducked her head, clamping her mouth shut. Simon was calmly weaving through the barriers. He saw it all. Helped. Healed. Protected. River wove a blue ribbon across the drawing, connecting the isolated cells, passing through the barriers. “What is this?” Simon asked, coming up beside her. His hand on her shoulder always sang the cool relief of comfort. “Secrets,” River answered, her eyes surveying the painful image of her world. Simon considered too, but didn’t understand it. “There are a few going around,” Simon agreed. He was thinking of Inara. River considered the secret that Inara kept. The fact that so many others knew, but would never tell her that they did. She started drawing leaks between the walls and barriers on her cells, then burying them under black. But that wasn’t the secret that plagued her. River’s mind wandered around Mattie, closed and shadowed to her. What did she hide that had not yet been revealed? She wore a mask, but so did most everyone in the crew. Everyone but Kaylee. River always liked being with Kaylee because her inside always matched her outside – genuine and loving. Jayne always wanted to be strong. Mal wanted to be untouchable. Simon wanted to be proper. Inara wanted to be courtly. Mattie wanted to be… it was difficult to know. Cognizant perhaps. She revealed only what was necessary to learn what she wanted, and had great return for her efforts. She knew too much, but kept too much hidden. It made River wary. “Too many secrets,” River told Simon, but he didn’t understand. “I know,” Simon lamented. “It’s just not my place to share.”

*~*

Zoë found Mal stewing by the supply closet, counting the number of spare light bulbs, mop heads, and scrubbers. As he went through the shelves, he made modifications and notes on a shopping list he’d prepared previously. “Problem, sir?” Mal threw down a tub of dish rags with more force than he needed to, and rubbed his forehead tiredly. “Just tryin’ to whittle down the list.” “Does this have anything to do with the 300 credits missin’ from the ship’s account?” Zoë challenged, cutting straight to the chase of why she’d come looking for him. Zoë always kept herself apprised of Mal’s book keeping, both legit and forged, for occasions when he spent extended time in the Infirmary. “Money’s tight. Can’t be wasteful.” “That money was for Serenity, sir.” Mal glared at her, but Zoë didn’t back down. The Captain had always been an honest man, even in dishonest dealings, and she felt she had a right to know. “It went to Serenity,” Mal growled icily. “Protecting the crew.” Zoë crinkled her brow at first, then felt a light go on in her understanding and her breath caught. “Is this about Inara?” “What about her?” “You’d know better than I, sir,” Zoë answered cautiously. In truth, all she really knew was that something was not right. “Imagine I would,” Mal agreed darkly. Zoë breathed a little easier believing that Inara had confided in Mal and that Mal had dealt with the situation in some manner involving 300 credits… and no telling how much of his personal take. It was a small price to pay for a crew mate, and she’d probably have done the same. “You suppose that’s why she’s leaving?” Zoë wondered. Inara had announced the decision just after supper, and now it seemed a little less surprising. “No,” Mal answered firmly. “She was plannin’ on that long before. This may have bumped up her plans a bit. Client comin’ after her like that… may just’ve been the last straw.” Zoë nodded silently, reeling at Mal’s unintended revelation. She hadn’t realized it was a client who’d hurt Inara. Numbly, she left Mal to his work and made her way to the cockpit.

*~*

Mal was weary, but kept working anyway. He felt as though he’d just witnessed twenty unjust executions and watched the killer get off scott free. He came out of the supply closet, past the armory, to the catwalks. The door to Inara’s shuttle was closed, but not locked. His breath quickened, and he strode toward the shuttle, but then veered away at the last moment, and headed downstairs. Now was not the time to barge in. Jayne was in the cargo bay, doing chin-ups, radiating sweat and body odor. Every heft came with a grunt, his shirt soaked with sweat. As Mal rounded the bend, Jayne dropped to the floor, then fell to one knee, reaching for a water bottle. “Jayne.” “Mal.” “You been keepin’ yourself busier than a one-legged monkey in a butt-kicking contest.” “You’re one to speak,” Jayne retorted, his voice low and heavy, his eyes still looking at the ground as if he were too dizzy to lift them. “I suppose.” Mal hadn’t been anticipating a conversation, but the question fell out of him. Maybe it was just his way of expressing sympathy for Jayne’s mother. Maybe it was something else. “How’s your girl?” “She’s nothin’ of mine.” Mal paused, considering Jayne carefully. Burly, strong, panting, and knelt on the floor of the bay. “You don’t believe that.” “You can’t know my mind,” Jayne snapped, his eyes finally meeting Mal’s with fire. “I know you sent money back to help her. Don’t do that for someone who’s nothin’ to you.” “Don’t know that it did a damn thing, by the way she talks.” Mal nodded, understanding Mattie’s belligerence. “She’s just an angry girl who’s lost the only parent she ever knew.” Jayne closed his eyes, his chin falling on his chest, breathing heavy. Mal started to leave, but turned when he heard Jayne stand, worried that he’d inadvertently started a fight. Jayne hadn’t cocked his fist though. His face was alive with realization and deep thought – an expression Mal found somewhat troublesome. “Devious little huai ren!” Jayne cried reproachfully. “She’s been playin’ me the whole time!”

*~*

It had been a long while since they’d stopped on Boros and the Black wafted through the view, most of the fainter stars washed out by the lights in the cockpit. The course was so simple, the ship could fly itself at this point, and if it weren’t for the moping crew, Wash might have ventured out to start a game of horseshoes or something. Ever since Inara had announced she was leaving, anyone who had any cheer left in them had found cause to lose it. Wash was fighting a bit of heartache over the eminent departure as well. Shepherd Book leaving was hard enough. What would happen when two people were gone from the crew? Having run out of news to surf through on the cortex and grown tired of the toys he kept near the console, Wash settled for a quick game of solitaire with a worn out deck of cards. A few failed games later, Zoë entered the bridge with a snack and a dour frown. Wash accepted the food with a smile, and squeezed her hand encouragingly, but she didn’t perk up. Apparently her confrontation with Mal had not gone as smoothly as she’d planned. Wash only half-listened at first, expecting a brief rant about the Captain, and was surprised when Zoë spoke of Inara instead. Zoë was convinced that Inara was leaving because of something her last client had done to her, whereas Wash was convinced it was something the Captain had done to her. Either way, it seemed the Companion’s plight was the reason for Zoë’s mood, not the Captain and the missing money. “Why don’t you talk with her?” Wash asked Zoë, reaching out to rub her forearm soothingly. Zoë leaned against the console facing him, but not meeting his eye. “Women don’t talk about these things.” “Oh, come on, honey,” Wash balked, patting her slightly. “Women talk about everything. I once dated this girl –” “That’s different Wash. Inara was hurt by a man; and it’s worse than I first thought.” “All the more reason to talk to her.” Zoë swallowed to stall, and stared at Wash’s hand on hers, brooding. “She’s already spoken to the Captain.” “You’re sure?” “He seemed to know more of what happened,” Zoë said, her brown eyes finally meeting his. Wash offered his best indulgent smile. “No offense, sweetie, but Mal is a rubbernecking snoop. I don’t think Inara has said anything.” “So you talk to her,” Zoë challenged, standing up to leave. Wash grabbed her arm, pulling her into his lap. “Alright,” he agreed firmly. “I will. She deserves to know we all know something. Or that we all suspect she’s hiding it.” Zoë sat stiffly on his lap, watching his face. “You ain’t movin’.” He kissed her neck and wrapped his arms around her. He was glad when she leaned into him. “I’ve got a beautiful woman in my lap. Inara will understand.” “Chicken,” Zoë teased softly, nibbling his lower lip. Wash groaned in pleasure. “Is that what I taste like?” “Mmm…” she agreed, kissing her way around his neck, then resting on his shoulder. He could feel the tension leaving her body as she relaxed in his arms. “Fine,” she finally whispered, her voice airy. “I’ll talk to her before we hit Boros.” “That gives us a few days then. Boros should be just turning disc-like in our view by now.” Zoë turned in his lap, her eyes looking lazily through the window. “Where?” “Well, right…” Wash leaned around her to point, but he couldn’t find the point he was looking for. “Hmm, that’s funny.” A little concerned, he reached around her checking the navigation computer and the course settings. Then he checked the engine and thruster controls. He flipped a few switches and checked the nav system again. His heart quickening, he laughed uncomfortably, which caused Zoë to scoot off his lap. “Where’s the planet?” he joked lightly. Zoë was on her feet, scrutinizing the sky. “Shouldn’t we be facing the Pleiades?” “Should,” Wash agreed. According to the computer, they were. Slowly, he pitched the ship, and almost immediately found the desired constellation and planet. “Here we are,” he remarked, holding the controls a moment, then resetting the course. He checked the fly wire. Checked the nav circuits. And slowly, the ship turned itself back to its previous destination. “Now that is weird,” he mused, adjusting the course again. “Captain to the bridge,” Zoë said sternly into the PA before switching to a different channel. “Kaylee can you check the nav circuits?” The sky shifted again in their view as Wash changed course. All the while the nav computer seemed to think they were pointed in the same direction. Wash slammed his fist against the lying computer and shut down the engine, reaching behind him for the old-fashioned paper maps as their momentum kept them going in the wrong direction. “Where are we headed?” Zoë asked. Wash shook his head, turning off the main lights so he could see more of the stars. “Off the map."

*~*

* Chapter 6