The infirmary was quiet, lights dimmed, and only the rhythmic and steady ping of Inara's heart monitor broke the silence.

Mal dozed beside the Companion, head resting on his arms next to her. He'd been there for hours now, ever since he'd awoken to learn that Inara had regained consciousness briefly, refusing Simon's attempts to get him to return to the passenger dorm and rest; he was determined to stay with her until she woke again.

A sudden skip in the beat of the monitor's rhythm brought him awake, and he sat up anxiously, watching her for any sign that she was returning to him. After several long minutes he sighed, resigned that it had merely been wishful thinking.

Though Simon had assured him Inara's sleep was a natural one now and not a coma, he couldn't help the worry he felt as she remained unconscious, wondering just how much damage Whelt's cocktail had done her, knowing he wouldn't be satisfied that she would be all right until he could see it in her eyes for himself.

He brushed a finger across her cheek lightly, anguished by the livid purple-black bruises that had bloomed around her eyes, looking all the worse for their startling contrast with her too-pale skin. She had stitches in her lower lip and innumerable scrapes and scratches that had begun to scab over; and those, he knew, were the least of her injuries.

Worst of course was the damage to her heart that Simon had stubbornly refused to elaborate on. Add to that the particularly nasty stab wound at her pelvis, the three broken ribs and the sliced skin of her palm and he had more than enough reason to worry on her.

"C'mon, Inara," he whispered.

"How is she?" came Book's voice from the doorway suddenly and Mal pulled away, running a weary hand over his eyes as he sagged back into his chair unhappily.

"The same," he said, wincing as the first tell-tale signs that his pain medication was wearing off made themselves known, the sharp ache in his gut reminding him that he wasn't exactly whole himself.

Concerned, the Shepherd took a step into the room. "If you'd like to get some rest, I could stay—"

Mal cut him off with a shake of his head and Book acquiesced, not surprised at the younger man's refusal.

"I brought you a bit of dinner, in case you’re hungry," he said instead, holding up the tray he was carrying. "I'll just put it over here," he added when Mal didn't respond, setting it on the counter. He paused on his way back to the door and laid a hand on the Captain's shoulder compassionately. "She'll be all right, son. It's just going to take some time. She's strong, and she's got good reason to come back," he said meaningfully, smiling as he gave a gentle squeeze.

Wordlessly, Mal nodded, his eyes never leaving Inara's face, hoping the Shepherd was right. He let his head drop into his hands as the other man left him to his vigil once more, silently berating himself for what was probably the thousandth time that he hadn't killed Wing when they'd first met and prevented all of this.

He stayed that way for he didn't know how long until a sudden intake of breath from Inara brought him out of his self-castigation and he jerked upright, eyes moving to her face again anxiously.

He felt a cautious flash of relief as she stirred, finally starting to wake, and he took her hand in his heavily bandaged ones, squeezing gently.

"Hey," he said softly, his face lighting with a relieved smile.

He saw her brow furrow and then her eyes opened, twin pools of soft brown staring up at him in confusion.

"Mal?" Inara mumbled, feeling foggy. She blinked as her mind began to clear, her eyes suddenly growing wide in shock as everything flooded back to her. "Mal!" she rasped, her throat dry and rough, heart pounding in her breast as she struggled to sit, not believing what she saw.

"Hey, easy now," he admonished softly, easing her back down onto the bed. "I'm here."

Her hands clutched his forearms, needing to feel him, needing the contact to convince herself she wasn't dreaming. But he was there, real, beneath her fingers. "Renci de fozu, I thought you were dead!" she cried, her eyes flooding as she fought to keep her face from crumbling. "I thought he killed you," she said, voice fading to a whisper as she brought her hands up to trail over his face, relief palpable in her every touch.

Mal shook his head with a lopsided grin, brushing a strand of hair away from her face. "Think I'd let a bitty little thing like gettin' stabbed kill me?" he asked tenderly.

She laughed, the sound turning into a sob as the tears finally spilled free over her cheeks, and she pulled him to her, squeezing her eyes shut as his forehead pressed against hers.

He closed his eyes, trembling as he let the relief wash over him, finally letting himself believe that she would be okay. "Gave us a bit of a scare there," he said roughly, running his hand over her hair as best as he was able. "You been out a while; couple days."

"Sorry," she whispered, pressing her face into the crook of his neck, holding him as close as she could without being able to sit up, soaking up his presence as she struggled to bring her breathing under control. "'Must've been tired."

"Got stuck pretty bad, by your leg," he said softly, pulling back to a more comfortable position, leaving out the rest for now. "Not that you didn't do just fine with that fancy sword work of yours," he added, the admiration clear in his voice.

Inara shook her head, remembering the 'duel'. "He'd have killed me if you hadn't—how badly are you hurt?" she exclaimed, her mind changing tracks mid-thought at the memory of his blood in stark crimson contrast against the white sand of the Salle. She ran her hands down to his bandaged ones before reaching out to press her fingers against his middle gently, her eyes meeting his in a mixture of regret and gratitude.

Mal covered her hand with his own, rubbing softly, his chest tightening at her open concern for him. "Bad enough. Doc put me back together though," he said lightly, downplaying his injuries.

"You weren't breathing," she whispered, her gaze losing focus as she remembered. "You weren't breathing, and there was so much blood… You were so still. I tried to revive you, but…"

"Doc says you prob'ly saved my life too," he nodded, but she didn't seem to hear him. He reached up and brushed his fingers across her cheek. "Hey," he said, snapping her out of the memory. "I'm right here, livin' and breathin' thanks to you. It's over, bao bei. You won."

She stared at him a long moment before nodding slightly, her eyes growing heavy as the adrenaline rush of finding him alive began to wear off.

Mal smiled. "Rest. I'll go 'n tell the others you're back," he said tenderly.

She nodded, squeezing his hand softly before letting him slip away, smiling back as he turned in the doorway for one last look before he went in search of Simon and the others.

Inara let her eyes close with a sigh, sleep pulling at her, and tried to sort through the jumble of thoughts swirling in her mind. She pushed past the still lingering images of Mal’s blood; past Atherton’s stunned look and the feel of the blade as it passed through his throat, and the fact that she’d actually killed him – she didn’t’ want to think about that; past everything she and Mal had been through the past few days, to the one glaring and worrisome thought that remained, nagging at her from the back of her mind:

Why hadn’t she known? How had Atherton managed to disappear from Persephone without her having heard a single word of warning from the Guild? There were security measures in place; the Guild paid very close attention to the movements of all their black-listed clients to prevent just this sort of thing. So why hadn’t she been told? Why hadn’t Wing been flagged and warnings issued when he’d left Persephone? When he’d begun to transfer his assets off world? When he’d kept that disfiguring scar…?

Her thoughts held no answers, only more questions as she wondered if someone in the Guild had purposefully withheld the information, and from her specifically, or if it was a universal breakdown with their system? If it was the latter, every Companion in the Guild could be in danger. It had to be someone internal, she reasoned, but how, and why? And more importantly, who should she trust to tell? She didn’t have an answer to that either.

She sighed and did her best to banish the taxing thoughts from her mind as she heard the crew approaching, forcing a smile – albeit a small and tired one – to her face to greet them.

Simon was the first to enter, motioning for everyone else to remain outside for the moment while he moved with doctoral efficiency to check her readings. “Welcome back,” he said to Inara. “It’s good to see you awake. How are you feeling?” he asked as he bent and shined a thin light into her eyes.

“Tired. Drugged,” she replied, doing her best not to blink as the doctor continued his examination.

“That’s the morphine,” he explained with a distracted smile, listening to her heart for a long moment. “We’ll bring the dosage down a bit next time; that should help,” he continued as he removed the stethoscope from his ears and stood up. “Rest is the most important part of your recovery now, so no overtaxing yourself,” he instructed seriously. “That being said, if you’re up to it, you have some visitors,” he added with a smile.

Inara nodded, smiling at Kaylee as she waved through the infirmary’s windows, and Simon moved back to let the rest of the crew in, one at a time, to say their hellos.

While she enjoyed the time with the crew, she tired quickly, and Simon soon ordered everyone from the infirmary, with the exception of Mal, so that she could rest. The doctor made one last check of her readings and did a quick examination of her bandages, before leaning close with a serious look.

"Do me a favour," Simon whispered, motioning to the Captain with his eyes. "Try and get him to sleep."

Inara nodded, perceiving his meaning at once, and gave him a grateful if weak smile. "Thank-you, Simon," she said as he returned her nod and gave one to Mal before leaving the room.

Alone once more, Mal brought his chair next to Inara's side again and sat.

"How you doin'?" he asked.

"I’m fine, Mal. Tired," she replied.

Mal nodded. “Ought to sleep,” he said.

“I feel like that’s all I’ve been doing,” she complained but yawned just the same.

Mal smiled. “Need to rest so you can get healed up.”

She raised a disapproving eyebrow. “I’m not the only one. Simon tells me you’re not sleeping enough,” she chastised.

“Sleepin’ plenty,” Mal dismissed with a scowl, reaching forward to brush a strand of hair from her cheek.

“When?” she countered, appreciating his touch but determined not to be distracted. “While you’re sitting on that chair, watching me sleep? Mal, you need proper rest. You don’t have to stay here.”

He looked up. “You don’t want me here?”

She smiled. “I want you to sleep. Take a few hours to lie down in a real bed. I’m not going anywhere,” she promised, lifting her hand to his stubble-roughened cheek. “You’re exhausted,” she said softly, brushing over his bristly hairs with a thumb.

Mal sighed heavily and nodded, his eyelids drooping under her touch as he finally acknowledged the weight of his fatigue. “Needed to make sure you were gonna be okay.”

“So do I,” she said with a meaningful stare. “But I’m fine, Mal, I—What?” she added, concerned by his sudden look of worry.

“Nothin’,” Mal hurriedly reassured, blinking as he forced his eyes open fully again.

Inara stared back at him in slight apprehension. “What is it? What aren’t you telling me?”

“Nothin’!” he protested. Now wasn’t the time to tell her about her heart. He didn’t know enough about what had happened to give her any useful information anyway, he reasoned. Simon wanted to be so closed-mouthed about it, Doc could tell her himself. “Just, got a lot of healin’ to do,” he deflected. “Anyway, you’re awake now, ’s what’s important.”

She looked at him suspiciously before yawning suddenly, her body’s need for sleep overshadowing her concern. “Not for much longer,” she said sleepily. She’d have to worry about whatever it was Mal wasn’t telling her later.

Mal smiled. “Get some sleep,” he said, brushing his fingers over her forehead gently.

“You too,” Inara said, yawning but firm, her tone brooking no argument from him.

He held his hands up in surrender and nodded. “All right, I’ll go, I promise!” he chuckled. “Just as soon as you’re--.” Asleep, he finished silently as he realized Inara already was and he was talking to himself.

Yawning widely, he stood, leaning over to tuck Inara’s blanket up under her chin snugly. He watched her for a long moment, replaying her words in his head; I’m not going anywhere, she’d said. Just for now, while she was in the infirmary, he wondered? Or did she mean more? He hadn’t sensed any of her usual walls between them since she’d been awake; she seemed open and vulnerable. ‘Course, she was tired and not quite herself yet, he reminded himself, but she’d openly admitted to bein’ worried on him… I’m not going anywhere.

Mal brushed his fingers over her hair lightly, feeling the hope inside him grow a little more. She’d told him she loved him; now, that she wasn’t goin’ anywhere. It might be foolish to hope, but he loved this woman; any shǎ guā could see it, even him. And he just might be lucky enough to have her love him back.

“Mián hǎo darlin’,” he whispered, lowering the lights as he left the infirmary and made his way to his bed in the passenger dorm, finally to sleep.

Part 14D