Malcolm Reynolds stood on Serenity’s deck and stared out into the black of space. It was late, he knew that very well. Yet, he couldn’t find the will to drift into slumber and that frustrating fact had led him on an after-midnight stroll that ended here. Or, in a way, began. He sat down on the chair and sighed. He and his crew were utterly alone in deep space, between no and where, as he liked to put it. Flying under the radar, illusion of non-existence. Sometimes he liked it, and then sometimes… Again he sighed and succumbed to the inevitable soul- searching that accompanied these midnight wanderings. He thought back to the previous missions and shook his head with a wry smile. The good and the bad. Always side by side yet were sworn enemies. Somehow, things never went according to the grand plan. He heard a low clunk! Of falling metal and grinned. Kaylee was up. God, this girl lived for nothing else but engine grease. He didn’t care, hell she could bathe in damn thing. All that was important to him was that she keep Serenity in the atmo, keep her flying. Anyway, he loved Kaylee, she was the…light on the ship. Always seeing the bright side of things, always with the ready smile. Where would serenity be without the brilliant, spunky mechanic? Mal looked around at the ships controls. Wash was an excellent flier, no denying the obvious. He had got them out of more than a few tight spots before. Cheery, lively and full of hope. And very methodical when it came to flyin’, concentrated and calm. Mal was lucky to get him aboard Serenity. He found a pilot and Zoe found a husband. Zoe, long time friend from the war, and first crew member. Zoe he respected very much. She had a no-nonsense attitude and had a unique tranquillity in any situation, good, bad or ugly. Yet, her sense of humour was plain as day. She knew of love, too. He would never say it out loud, but she and Wash made a good couple, regardless of the splitting of loyalties issue. Mal laughed softly. Then there was Jayne. Ohh boy, he was a handful. Guns, knives, sex, sarcasm. The embodiment of Jayne. But he was part of the crew, a part that Mal trusted, like the rest of them, so as long as he didn’t turn his guns on them, Jayne was shiny in his books. Then there were the new, recent additions to his crew – Simon, River and Book. He didn’t know them all to well but such was life. New people, new journeys, new stories to reflect on. And if this was the direction destiny was sending him, who was he to deny it. He nodded to himself and out of the corner of his eye saw someone standing in the doorway. He didn’t even have to look to see who it was. Her divine scent gave it away. “Good morning,” Mal yawned, “Can’t sleep?” Inara smiled and stepped onto the deck, “Third night this month Mal. Anything wrong?” “Yeah, I can’t sleep either. Big job tomorrow. I expect you have a job to.” They both looked out into the inky, starry void. Inara, the one person on the ship he loved with a burning, heated passion. A desire that was well hidden by his hatred of unnecessary complications. But his conscience always came back, what if this complication was the one thing that could help him, complete him, mend his tortured soul. “I’m going to get some sleep. You should do the same.” Mal locked eyes with Inara for a few seconds, hating what the feelings did to him, then walked back to his bunk, a regretful expression on his face. Inara watched him go, felt her heart rate go out of sync. Her eyes welled slightly. Malcolm Reynolds. The source of…so many things for her that she could no longer decipher between the feelings. Mal drifted into an uneasy sleep. He hated waking up with dark circles under his eyes, just as much as he hated what his weekly-reflections-midnight-meetings-with-Inara did to him.