It's Joss's 'verse, not mine. This is my first, so comments are greatly appreciated. (I know it's not that original, but hey.) Enjoy. ---------------------------------------------------

He shouldn't have done it, the stupid hwoon dahn.

Tears slide down her perfect porcelain cheeks, falling with soft plops on their entwined hands.

She shouldn't have been on the job in the first place.

He had tried to tell her to stay behind, but as usual, she would have none of it. She was bored of sitting in her shuttle and tired of being left out. He had gotten under her skin, and she needed to prove that she too could be useful. As always, the job had gone south, and his only recourse had been to start shooting.

She looks at his hand, pale white from blood loss, dwarfing her own. Heavy and calloused, standing out in stark contrast to her own, perfectly manicured and soft. What had made her think she could belong to his world?

He had bled for her, as he'd done before. Always freezing her out, yet willing to pour out everything to keep her safe.

She had run out of ammo, glanced down to check the chamber. She never saw the man across the room square up, or the puff of smoke as he fired at her. She did hear him scream his name, watched as time stretched out like taffy as he threw himself in front of her. A dull thud and a spatter of blood. He fell at her feet, eyes locking onto hers as blood began to pump furiously from his chest with every pulse of his heart.

"Inara..." he gasped as she fell to her knees and pressed her hands over the wound, careless of the blood soaking the finery she always wore.

There was so much blood...

She cries in earnest now, regretting all the harsh words, the snide comments that always seemed to get in the way. He saved her life, perhaps at the price of his own. If that wasn't love, then she was a mudder on Canton rather than a Shinon-trained Companion. If only they weren't so stubborn. If only he could allow himself to feel. If only she could swallow her pride. If only...

Before she realizes what she's doing, she's leaning down and kissing him. Full of guilt, remorse, and all the supressed passion of the last two years. Suddenly she's being kissed back, and she jerks back in surprise.

"Better not be takin' advantage of me." he coughs, without opening his eyes.

For once, she is at a loss of words. "Mal-"

"S'not fair to be taking advantage of a man while he's unconcious." The grip on her hand tightens, and she falls back into habit before she even realizes it.

"Please. It's not like it hasn't happened before." she snaps, then immediately regrets it. He opens his eyes slowly, searching hers as if he can see something there that even she doesn't know about.

"I'm sorry Mal." She wants that look to go away, can't take that piercing blue stare for much longer. She'll lose whatever composure she's got left if he keeps looking at her like that. "I'll go."

She moves to leave, but he yanks her down in a surprising burst of strength.

"You're not going anywhere." He says in his best captain-y voice. "Not ever again." He pulls her to his chest and kisses her softly, and suddenly she knows that she won't be. Lying on his chest, she traces the newly-stiched wound with her fingertips.

You bled for me. Now it's time for me to take care of you.