Mal was just a bit worked up when he came around the sliding panel that was the door to River's room, just down the corridor from the med bay. Seemed like everything having to do with Inara had the potential to get him worked up one way or another, and he never could sort it out properly, either. "I specifically said nobody leaves the ship!" he accused, zeroing in on Inara without preamble. Inara and Kaylee turned in surprise to look at him. "Shhhh!" Kaylee admonished, gesturing at the sleeping River in her bunk, and Inara whispered "Lower your voice!" Mal rolled his eyes. "Zoe says you got a client on Nassau Point," he said, taking care to speak more quietly. Inara sighed. "Yes, Mal, I have a client who happens to be at Nassau Point right now," she acknowledged, taking him by the elbow and pushing him out into the corridor. "And yes, I have arranged to see him while we're docked there." "Well, he must not be much to think on, 'cause that is gonna be one quick visit," Mal said, unable to resist the dig, and hating himself for it at the same time. Hating himself for the black look in Inara's captivating eyes, because he knew he deserved it. "Mal," Inara said, as though explaining matters to a thickheaded child, "this is not a pleasure cruise for me. The arrangement was that I would be able to conduct my business using this ship as a base of operations. But at our last two stops, you've pulled that 'nobody leaves the ship' go seh, and frankly, I'm tired of it. If I cannot conduct my business from Serenity, you'll force me to go elsewhere." "Do you know what Nassau Point is?" Mal demanded. Inara rolled her eyes at him. "Jerrode Eusabian has been my client since I was on Sihnon, and he has always kept a suite on Nassau Point," she said levelly. "I have, in fact, been there. Many times." "Yeah, but you ain't been there with me," he said, desperate to convey the seriousness of the situation. "We didn't pick this rendezvous. Somebody else set this up, and that makes us vulnerable. If we have to leave, and you ain't back, there might not be time to wait for you." "In that case, I am sure I will be welcome to stay with Jerrode until I'm able to return to Serenity" Inara said calmly. "I almost hope I can, actually. It might be a nice break, spending time with someone who does what he says he will. Jerrode is very dependable that way." Her gaze was maddeningly cool. Mal clenched his teeth against a nasty retort. He couldn't shake her. Done was done, and Inara was going off to do her whoring no matter what he might say. He jammed his fists into his pockets and tried to think of something else to talk about. Something so that they wouldn't part with their hackles still up. He was acutely aware, as ever, that he might never see her again after this, for any number of reasons which mostly added up to a better-than-even chance he'd end up good and dead once and for all. He didn't want her last thought when she left to be that she hated him. "How's River?" he tried. "Sleeping," Inara replied, her own jaw clenching. It set off the high arch of her cheekbones when she did that, which only made matters worse for Mal. "Well, good, that's good then," he knew he was babbling, but was powerless to stop. "I thought I might ask you to keep an eye on her while we're out. Guess not, though." See, now he could look like he was properly concerned about his crew -- which he was! -- and yet understanding of Inara's commitments as well. It bugged him no end when she made him feel like he must be some kind of tyrannical monster. She seemed not to notice his attempted humanitarianism. "Why can't Simon stay with her?" she asked, surprised. "Cause I'm sending Simon out with Zoe to get her meds," Mal said. "Simon? You can't send Simon out into that -- that --" Inara protested. Mal smiled bitterly. "That boy would beard the very devil in his den for her sake," he said, nodding in River's direction. "May have already done. But Zoe ought to be able to keep him safe. If he doesn't do anything stupid." "So who's going to keep you safe?" Inara wondered aloud. "You do know we all kind of depend on Zoe for that?" Now, that was right vexing. Mal always felt better knowing Zoe had his back, but that was hardly the same as needing a babysitter the way he considered Simon did. And had she just maybe suggested that she cared about whether or not he was safe? This conversation had got off track somehow, and getting it back on track was more than he could manage if he had to do it while he was standing close enough to catch the scent of incense and tea wafting off her clothing. "Me and Jayne are going," he said. "It'll be all right." She shook her head. "I don't believe that for an instant." She sighed, and laid a hand on his arm. "Kaylee can look after River. She's close to the engine room here. You be safe." She floated back toward the doorway of River's room, ethereal in red silk and beaded slippers. How did I get nothing out of that? Mal wondered. Hadn't he meant to talk her out of leaving? Why did that never work? He hadn't got a single concession from her. Unless you counted maybe the things she said that could be taken as possibly caring what happened to him. But if she cared, how come she never listened to him? Mal gave it up as fruitless, and went looking for Jayne. This was something they'd have to be ready for. And since it was a space station, he'd need to be clear with the mercenary: no grenades. ** Simon stood pressed into the shadows in a far corner of the bridge, wishing he were somewhere else. He was there for a legitimate and important medical purpose -- to make sure Wash didn't suddenly collapse again, thanks to River's assault -- but Zoe was there, too, and Simon wished desperately that he didn't have to be. Because while the first mate and her husband weren't fighting, exactly, they were disagreeing with each other, and being forced to eavesdrop was making Simon distinctly uncomfortable. "Just take the link," Wash pleaded -- again. He was supposedly there to fly the ship, so that they could make up the time River had caused them to lose, but Simon hadn't seen him actually do anything for hours. He'd set the course and speed, and left things alone. So why was it still necessary for him to be in the pilot's chair, Simon wondered, instead of in the med bay where Simon could rightfully assert some control over the situation? Maybe for the same reason you're still here, in spite of the fact that Wash' heart is beating just fine right this moment, he chided himself, knowing that his irritation was with the circumstance, not the pilot. Because if something goes wrong, it will go more wrong if you're anywhere else. "Wash," Zoe said, exasperated. She was leaning against the copilot's console, facing away from Simon. "There is not one cubic millimeter of air on Nassau Point that isn't jammed in four dimensions. Everybody on Nassau Point is completely paranoid. The only messages on that station travel hardwired -- you know that!" "Yeah, but . . ." he raised his hands palms-up in entreaty. "I would feel better if you carried the link. Just on the off chance that I might be able to get a message to you if I needed to." "I would feel better if I didn't have to carry around one extra piece of equipment that's completely useless to me," she insisted, arms folded across her chest. I would carry it, if it would just shut the two of you up, Simon thought miserably, but he didn't say it because he didn't want to draw attention to himself. "My peace of mind means nothing to you?" Wash accused, sounding hurt. Zoe rolled her eyes. "It has nothing to do with how anybody feels about anything!" Wash's jaw clenched, and he stared out into the black. "Sure it does," he said. "It has to do with how helpless I feel when you're in a dangerous situation and there's absolutely nothing I can do about it." "How does my carrying a link on Nassau Point change that at all?" she demanded. "It makes me feel better," he insisted stubbornly. "That's completely irrational," she pointed out. "So sue me," he said, "Because, yeah, I tend to get a little irrational over you." He gave her a puppy-eyed look, and Simon's heart sank even further, because Zoe's shoulders slumped, and she gave up the fight. Not that he cared about the outcome per se, but when she wrapped one slender arm around Wash's shoulders and sat down in his lap, Simon figured his discomfort was just about to reach the level of absolute mortification. "All right," she cooed, her face nearly touching his, "I'll carry it. For you." "Thank you," he said, lifting his face to hers. He wrapped both arms around her and kissed her. Simon wondered if they'd completely forgotten he was there. He drew a deep breath, preparing to clear his throat as a small reminder -- but the breath he'd drawn was full of ozone and dust, and what he intended as a discreet cough came out instead as a violent sneeze. Zoe and Wash both turned to look at him. "Gesundheit?" Wash said, and Zoe's lips quirked in amusement. "I . . . uh . . . I'll just, um, leave, how about?" he stammered, fishing in his pockets for a handkerchief he couldn't seem to find. "No," Zoe said, "stay." Simon sniffed, trying to keep his nose from suddenly running down his face, and ended up sneezing again -- three times. "Oh, I actually think he maybe ought to go," Wash said, rubbing the spot between Zoe's shoulderblades, and looking at her with an expression that gave no evidence whatsoever of any concern for the doctor's well being. "I bet he's got something in the med bay that would help with those allergies." Zoe gazed placidly down at her husband. "I would feel better, under the circumstances, if Simon stayed." Wash sighed, and nodded his acquiescence. "We'll be at Nassau Point in about half an hour, anyway," he said unhappily. "In that case, I better get my guns," Zoe said. "And your vest," Wash reminded her. She stood, her fingers trailing against her husband's as she walked away. "I'm sorry," Simon said miserably, giving up on the handkerchief. "Yeah, you and me both," Wash said, staring after Zoe. An uncomfortable silence settled over them, and they waited together in it.