TITLE: "CURE" AUTHOR: Alison M. DOBELL FANDOM: "FIREFLY" PAIRING: Inara/Mal. RATING: PG-13. STATUS: SEQUEL to "SECRETS" ARCHIVE: Yes. Just let me know where. FEEDBACK: Welcomed. EMAIL: AlisonMDobell@aol.com WEBSITE: http://carlajane.50megs.com/Ali00.html

SUMMARY: "Inara has a nightmare and uses the good Captain to help her forget." The usual disclaimers apply. The characters and 'Firefly' are the property and gift of Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy. No infringement of copyright is intended.

"CURE"

A "Firefly" story

Written by Alison M. DOBELL

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"You cannot escape me!"

Inara was jolted awake as if an electrical current had passed through her body. The voice dropped another octave, sibilant and deadly with all the charm of a shroud. "You know you cannot escape. It would be folly to try."

Her breath caught in her throat. Darkness bound her but her limbs were not tied, just immobile with horror. She had to move, to regain use of her body, but something prevented her.

"It is amusing to watch you struggle knowing you have no control over what happens."

Fear. A dark coursing madness infecting the soul. The yawning pit of the abyss opening in front of her and threatening to swallow her whole. Cold damp lips dragged across her heated skin like the kiss of a corpse. She would have recoiled but there was nowhere to go. No place to run. Those whom she had trusted had made it so. And she. Blind reckless fool that she was had believed them. All her strength given up into the hands of a madman.

"Inara..." He breathed.

Her flesh trembled. Her heart quailed. Her body ready to loose its' fluids in blind senseless panic. Only a remnant of her control kept that last shred of dignity in place as she felt her clothes being peeled off her body. Slowly, sensuously, an intentional act not to titilate or excite her but to add to the building terror of her utter helplessness.

"You want to be House Mistress." The hated voice purred. "And this is the price you must pay. Not once, Inara Serra." The voice paused as the cold lips dropped to taste her shuddering body. The tongue an icy wet trail across her goose fleshed skin. Every cell in her body caught in a shock that the mind could hardly process still less break free of. It was only much later that she realised it had been the drugs. Synthetically created designer compounds that had been tailored to one flawless purpose. "But again and again and again..."

She woke screaming. The whimper of her dreams released in a waking nightmare that left her cold and drenched in perspiration. Her eyes wide and wild. Her hair dark tatters that did nothing to shield her from memories that would not leave her. She did not hear the pounding at her door. The calling of her name, a distant sound that could not carry across the sea of panic from which there was no return.

The Captain burst in, gun out of its' holster, a look of fierce determination on his face. He paused, faltered, his look collapsing from alarm to a deeper worry. "Inara!"

Although it had not been his voice she recoiled from him, her body betraying her thoughts as she curled up as far from him as she could. Huddled up against the head of the bed. He had no idea what was wrong but knew a nightmare when it stalked him. Understood that she was particularly vulnerable now.

"Inara, it's okay. It's Mal, you're safe. You're on Serenity."

Trembling she hung her head, her long dark tresses hiding her from view. Behind the Captain Zoe, Wash and Kaylee crowded. He holstered his gun and quietly hushed them out, telling them it had just been a bad dream. Nothing to worry about, best they all go back to their bunks. Reluctantly they had done so. He leaned on the door a minute, wondering whether his instinct had been correct. Perhaps he should get the gorram doctor? But then Inara was stirring and a pang of longing drew him to her before his common sense could utter a word of caution to his heart. "Mal?"

"It's okay, Inara, just me. You were havin' a gorram nightmare."

She blinked and raised her head a little. Distressed that he had seen her lose her composure. How much had he heard? Had she spoken out loud or just screamed? "A nightmare?"

He tried to make light of it even though his hands were trembling as he tried to pull the covers over her and make her decent. She did not cling to them but let them fall, her nightrobe hanging open and hiding nothing. The Captain swallowed hard and tried not to look, to be the gentleman, his head turning to one side. Had Inara had more of her wits about her she would have been amused. Right now she needed to know what had been said. "Did I... say anything?"

Her words confused the Captain and he looked round to search her eyes for meaning. It was hard to look at her and think at the same time but this was Inara and even though she would have none of him he could not help the fact that her every breath drew him to her. He hated that need, that desire, almost as much as he craved it. Didn't help a good gorram that at times he sensed she might feel the same way. Always threatening to leave him then coming back. The sea-saw churned him up inside but anything was better than the thought of her gone even when he said it wasn't. "Nothin' that made sense, *weishenme*?"

Inara managed to toss her hair back and got her first look at the Captain. He looked a mite pale as if she had frightened him. His suspenders were hanging off his shoulders as if he had been getting undressed for bed. The first three buttons of his shirt open. The realisation that she had interrupted his intended sleep embarrassed her. But she had to know. "What did I say?"

"Huh?"

The man was typically eloquent but this was one time when Inara was grateful for it rather than irritated. Perhaps she could find out what she wanted without him being any the wiser? "What did I say, Mal? You know, words. I'm sure you must have heard of them."

A little flash of irritation gave colour to the pale shadows of his face. Good. He frowned then tried to remember. "Not nothin' that made sense. Somethin' about corpses an' being cold. Not bein' able to move an' such - what was that about?" She ignored the question. "What else?"

"Somethin' about havin' to do it again an' again an' again." He paused. Looking more than a mite concerned now. "Inara, what the *diyu* does that mean?"

"It was just a nightmare, Mal."

"Huh," He gave her a more intent look, trying not to notice the swell of her breasts where the nightgown was completely open at the front. The covers pushed aside in her impatience when she threw her head back and brushed the hair out of her eyes. "Sounded more like some memory."

Inara frowned, wanted him to go but knew he wouldn't until some stubborn sense of honour in him was satisfied that she really was alright. It was stupid. A wasted noble gesture when none was wanted or needed much like the man himself. But if she couldn't get rid of him then perhaps he could serve another purpose. "Mal?"

"Yeah? You want me to get Simon?"

She shook her head. Her nightgown slid further apart. Unbidden his eyes drifted down the column of her neck to her ample breasts then down to the dark nest of curls just visible above the silk sheets. He swallowed slowly and tried to think of something else but it was as if his head no longer had any moving parts.

"No, I need you to do something for me."

He seemed not to hear her. Staring down at the edge of the bed now, not daring to raise his head. Inara bit back a sigh and as shaken as she still felt it revived her humour a little. Leaning fowards she touched his hand. Surprised he looked up and his heart almost stopped. *No, no, no, Inara! I can't do this*. But even had she heard his silent plea Inara would not have listened.

"Mal, please stay."

His eyes searched hers as if looking for a trap. "Not sure that's such a good idea."

"I don't want to be alone."

"I could get Kaylee to come an' stay with you."

A soft smile flirted with her lips mesmerising him as her tongue flicked out leaving them glistening. She drew his hand to her and he swallowed again. "Is it gettin' hot in here? Perhaps I should...?"

Inara bit back her impatience and took the initiative. Her other hand dropping down to grab his belt.

"Hey now!"

He never got another word out. With a strength he would not have imagined her capable of, Inara pulled and drew him across the bed. He stared at her, shell shocked. Inara's hesitant smile grew into a genuine one of amusement and devilment. "Lost for words, Captain?"

"I..um..it's late an'..um..."

"We both need to sleep, Mal." She whispered softly, then before he could think of something to say her lips closed on his. So soft, so gentle, that he felt like he was dying. Unaware for a moment of her accomplished hands disrobing him as the kiss deepened, her tongue in his mouth exploring him at leisure while he tried to get his breath and his brain in gear. By the time he realised this should not be happening she had his shirt off, his trousers undone and was well on her way to getting him fully naked. She could feel the thunder of his heartbeat, strong but eratic, his breath hitching in a struggle for control. He knew she would hate him come morning.

"Inara, no, we can't be doin' this..."

"Just want to sleep, Mal." Her lips promised more than her words, her hands offered everything in the gorram 'verse he could possibly want and nothing he could pay for.

"Inara..."

It was the last word she let him utter, then he was lying on his back, the angel of his more erotic dreams straddling him. Her nightgown thrown aside, the soft ambient light of her shuttle playing gentle shadows across his face. Her lips on his, her hands exploring, her wiles sending him into a heaven that had the power to break him into dust. But he couldn't bring himself to care. Even if she threw him away afterwards he was already lost. With a groan he finally gave up all resistance and kissed her back, letting her do with him as she pleased while the last conscious brain cell in his head wondered what the fallout would be come morning. As Inara got more aggressive in her demands all the air huffed out of him until she hungrily gave him air from her own lungs, her hands exciting him, her body cradling his so tightly that the only movement he could make was what she allowed him. Each touch, each thrust, each sensual drift of tongue, mouth, teeth and hands teaching him things way beyond the knowledge of the Kama Sutra.

She wanted, she needed, and he was the instrument of her forgetting. Only when every touch of the nightmare had been erased between them did she show him any mercy. Mindful that he was still recovering from being shot. Her demands close to re-opening the wound. Knowing she had probably hurt him with her unbridled passion but also knowing that he would not speak on it. For as rough and unschooled a man as Malcolm Reynolds was, he was at heart a gentleman. Even if she would never allow him to be hers.

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CHINESE GLOSSARY: (Mandarin - Pinyin)

*weishenme* = why *diyu* = hell