A.N.: Comes after Ain't Just Blood. I recommend reading that one and the one before to get the basic context. ---

Zoë sat at the desk in Inara’s quarters, pen pressed to her lips, eyes staring vacantly ahead. Being more advanced than Serenity’s other children, Inara schooled little Zoë privately and warned the others off with a closed door. Despite the seclusion, Zoë had been nothing but distracted today. The fourteen-year-old had dark circles under her eyes, signifying another sleepless night and Inara worried for her adopted daughter. Some days, Zoë was as lively as a circus. She would dive enthusiastically into her studies, find a dozen ways to be helpful around the ship, play games with her little brothers, and talk Inara’s ear off about current events or frivolous girlish things. Since she’d been captured by those slave traders 10 months back, days like that had become precious and rare. Today was a bad day. Zoë wasn’t simply introspective and laconic, she was completely unengaged in the world. She had seemed to be doing so much better last month, but something had turned recently. “Zoë,” Inara called, a gentle nudge in her voice. “Yes’m,” Zoë said mechanically, slouching so fiercely she nearly slid off the chair. Inara waited. Finally Zoë lifted her eyes, saw Inara’s firm, disapproving look, and snapped to attention. “Sorry, Mama ‘Nara,” she said, sitting up straight and adopting that high level of propriety that Inara practically beat into all the children. Zoë inhaled her weariness, forced a studious smile, and resumed her work. She never made excuses unless asked. “Are you having trouble with the passage?” Inara asked. She knew Zoë wasn’t afraid to ask for help in her schooling, but she was hoping for a hint of what was going on inside Zoë’s head. “No, Mama. I can finish.” “Maybe you could read it aloud,” Inara suggested with a smile. Zoë usually loved reading out loud. “Do I have to?” Zoë asked quickly, the caught herself. She didn’t want to appear out of sorts. “Mama, can I be done for today?” Inara waited for Zoë to ask properly. Mal was no help, but at least he knew when he was falling on colloquialisms. Zoë squared her shoulders and asked again. “May I be excused early?” Inara nodded compassionately. “We can put the reading aside, but I want you to tell me what’s going on.” “Maybe later,” Zoë said, standing quickly and gathering her things. “I promised Uncle Jayne I'd help with the baby when my schooling was done.” “We’re stopping 20 minutes ahead of schedule,” Inara pointed out, coming firmly between Zoë and the door. “Talk to me.” “But –” Zoë looked from Inara to the door in frustration, then she sat at the desk again. “Fine, I'll finish the reading.” Inara took the book away from Zoë and sat across from her, placing a hand on her knee. Zoë shuddered and looked at her knees. “Please, talk to me,” Inara said. “Talk to someone.” Zoë’s eyes darted around the room and she shifted nervously. “I talked to Baba this morning.” “I know. You told him you’d talk to me later. So talk.” “Please, don’t make me cry,” Zoë said softly, pushing Inara’s hand away and standing quickly. She wrapped her arms around herself and paced the room like a caged animal. “No time for this now. I can’t say it all in 20 minutes. I don’t want to say it at all.” With that, she darted for the door and yanked it open. Michael stood waiting just outside. Inara wouldn’t push Zoë into anything with her little brother watching. Forcing a smile, Zoë placed a hand on Michael’s shoulder but in his typical silent manner of communication, he grabbed her wrist and tried to pull her back into the room and toward Inara. “No,” Zoë carped, twisting free and pushing him to the ground before running off. Inara inhaled sharply. She had never seen little Zoë get violent with Michael. She ran to her son and cradled his face, checking to make sure he hadn’t bumped his head, but Michael was more stunned than anything else. Then he started clawing at his ear. Inara grabbed his wrist, but not before he broke skin. “Shh!” he hissed, and she did her best to quiet her mind.

*~*

Inara held Michael in her lap and braced him with her arms while reaching around to cut his fingernails. The six-year-old would scratch the hearing aid right out of his ear, especially when Zoë was high-strung. Although born deaf, the boy was a reader and he struggled with the soundscape at times, unable to discern real sounds from read ones. It kept him quiet most of his early life. Inara had missed six months of his life when she’d been snatched and held hostage. She’d missed his first words and his first steps. But she was there that day, two years ago, when little Zoë had taught her and Mal the secret to unlocking his tongue. Where once she could barely get a word out of him in a week, now she could listen to him talk all day. If she let him, he would go on forever. Even when she wanted him to stop, she didn’t make him. She could never crowd out the voice she had waited so long to hear. At the moment, he was pressing his ear over her heart, listening intently, whilst spinning a yarn about a super-frog. His cold little fingers twitched every time she trimmed one of his fingernails. If she didn’t let them get so long, he wouldn’t break skin when he scratched. He already had scars. The adventures of super-frog were ones he used to drown something out in his mind, and Inara kept herself quiet, hoping that would help. “There you are,” Mal said, stripping out of a grease-soiled shirt as he came loudly into the room. He smiled briefly at Inara, but then focused his attention on Michael. “Your brother is lookin’ for you. The other kids are starting a game.” “Ugh,” Michael said, rolling his eyes and pulling Inara’s arms more tightly around him. “Those kids are driving me crazy!” “Kids?” Inara laughed, hugging him gently, knowing he’d picked up the phrase from Simon. Mal crossed the room, and placed a hand on Michael’s head, then he leaned over the boy to kiss Inara. She tilted her chin, smiling involuntarily as their lips met, cringing a little because he reeked of backed up plumbing. “Run along,” Mal said, picking Michael up and setting him on the floor. When Michael hesitated, Mal noticed the scratches on his ear. Inara winced on Michael’s behalf. “What’s this?” Mal asked, tilting his son’s head to see. “What did I tell you about scratchin’ your earpiece out?” Michael ducked his head broodingly. “You said don’t.” “Damn right. That tiny thing is expensive and you need it to hear.” Mal was half-joking and half-serious, but Inara always worried the kids didn’t understand the joking half when he chastised them. “It’s so loud, I can’t hear anything anyway,” Michael groused. “I’ll make you buy your own,” Mal continued, semi-seriously. “Surely there’s enough chores around here for you to earn your keep.” Michael’s eyes lit up. “Can I help clean the guns? Can I work the perimeter on the next job?!” Inara cringed. Like his father, Michael was a fast draw and a sharp shooter. When Jayne made the transition from being ‘uncle’ to Serenity’s children to being a father himself, Michael started talking about being Mal’s second. Mal often criticized her for coddling the boy, but she knew it was only a matter of time before Mal found a way to make use of Michael’s abilities and started taking him on jobs like he’d done with River. “If you’re so eager to take on Jayne’s job, perhaps you can help him look after Emily,” Inara suggested teasingly. Michael’s eyes went wide and bit his lip at the mention of the baby. “I’m okay being a kid, Mama,” he said, backing quickly out of the room.

*~*

That evening, Inara found little Zoë in her room, perusing the news feeds. Jayne said it was something she got from Wash – being a news junkie. Inara had never thought of it that way before Jayne said it, but the man was forever drawing comparisons between the girl and her birth parents. Jayne was her anchor to them. Maybe Zoë would talk to Jayne. Maybe she had been talking, up until the baby was born. Come to think of it, Zoë’s recovery had stalled somewhat since Emily’s birth. Zoë didn’t look up when Inara entered. She held up her hand, warning Inara not to interrupt before she finished the article she was reading. The room was sparsely furnished, as was all of Serenity. Zoë sprawled on the bed, a small desk in the corner was piled high with books and notes, on the bureau was a dizzying collection of dinosaurs, and hanging on the wall was her momma’s Mares Leg. The weapon was not loaded, but Zoë had a stash of ammo locked away for emergencies. Inara sat at the desk and waited patiently. “Did you need something?” Zoë asked, setting down her handheld and looking up, open and business-like. “I just came to talk.” Zoë looked back at her handheld, as though it were an escape hatch. “Not much in the mood.” Inara shrugged. “It doesn’t have to be serious. We could discuss this dreadful hairstyle you’ve adopted.” The men who had kidnapped Zoë had undone all her braids, and now her hair was a bushy tangled mess. Inara had spent countless hours of Zoë’s early life learning the proper method to tame the beast, and had she understood the struggle, she would’ve had much greater respect for how well-kept Momma-Zoë looked from day to day. Zoë tugged her hair self consciously, then said softly, “Help me fix it.” It was all the invitation Inara needed. Gathering an arsenal of conditioners, relaxers, and styling tools, they took to the task of taming Zoë’s hair. For the first two hours, the girl was quiet and introspective. The next hour, a few sparse stories emerged about what cute things Emily had done that afternoon. It had been a long while since they had spent time together as mother and daughter, grazing lazily over conversation topics with no obligation to speak about anything pressing, and no need to hide either. Inara knew by the peace in her own heart that these moments were healing. It was well past two in the morning when they declared themselves done with the hair styling, having finally coaxed the long tresses into perfectly smooth waves. Little Zoë looked so much like her momma that Inara was sure Mal would get misty-eyed when he saw. She’d had her hair in braids for so long now. “You look beautiful,” Inara said, hugging Zoë playfully across the shoulders and kissing her cheek. Zoë’s hand ghosted over the waves, but she didn’t smile. “You were a whore once,” Zoë said softly. Inara’s eyes went wide, both from the word choice and the recognition that this was the conversation she’d been waiting all night to have with her daughter. “Companion,” Inara corrected evenly. “Is it more different than a piece of paper?” Zoë asked. Her eyes met Inara’s in the mirror, hollow and distant. “It is –” “Was it your first time with sex?” Zoë interrupted, her questions falling faster than her need for answers. “Was it for money?” “It was my choice.” Inara waited for that to sink in. She had no idea how to guide the conversation and could think of no strategy but honesty. Zoë dropped her chin and when she blinked, tears streamed down her face. Inara knelt before her and took her hands. “I was so scared, Mama. I was so scared that that’s what they wanted.” She kept her eyes downcast and her hands twitched inside of Inara’s like she was ashamed of what she felt. “What they did was wrong,” Inara assured. “What they planned to do was wrong. It should always be your choice. Always.” Zoë shook her head and suppressed her tears. “Then I figured out they pegged us too sick for work. I found out they were just gonna kill us. Somehow, that seemed less scary to me.” “Of course it would,” Inara said lightly. “Cheating death runs in the family.” “Not my family,” Zoë said quickly, looking at the wall where her momma’s gun hung. “Then it must be catching,” Inara smiled, brushing the tears from Zoë’s cheek. “Is it crazy then – you spent all those years whor… companioning, and you’re okay. But I’m more scared of livin’ that life than I am of being killed.” “It’s not crazy at all,” Inara assured. “Because it’s not the same.” “Did you tell yourself it was?” Zoë asked. “When you were taken? When they had you locked up all those months, did you tell yourself it was the same?” Inara shuddered. She never talked about those months with anyone – even Mal. She’d gone to Sihnon afterwards to see an old friend, but even then, she couldn’t bring the memories to light. She’d spent the time meditating and pretending it wasn’t true, though she knew her friend could see right through the lie. Zoë was the last person she wanted to burden with those truths. “Please, Mama.” “No,” Inara answered firmly. She was crumbling on the inside. She did not want Zoë to see it. “No, I didn’t lie to myself.” “Did you try to escape?” “Of course. Not as successfully as you. If I’d gotten anywhere, I certainly wouldn’t have gone back for my vest.” Zoë smiled sheepishly. Inara reached for the humor. She clawed desperately at the diminishing light as she fell into a well of despair. Zoë shifted and before Inara knew it, her daughter embraced her. “It’s okay to cry, Mama ‘Nara,” Zoë said softly. “No matter what I go through, I’ve seen you go through worse. I only hope I’m as lucky as you and find someone I love as much as you love Baba.” Inara swallowed her tears, determined not to let the memories overwhelm her. She pulled back and put her arm around Zoë, so that she could be the mother and guardian in this moment. “Did you try to lie to yourself?” Inara asked, turning the focus back to Zoë’s experience. Zoë rested her head on Inara’s shoulder and twirled her hair around one finger. With a sigh, she confessed. “I told myself that I could never be a whore. I said, because I was your daughter, I was a companion too.” Inara smiled. “Did it help?” Zoë shook her head, then crinkled her eyes as a new thought dawned. “I said it out loud once. That’s when they put me with the sicklings to be killed. Do you think maybe they were afraid the Guild would come after them?” “We do look after our own,” Inara said, growing distant again. Mal had told the Guild when Inara had been taken. It was the Guild that found her, the Guild that brought her abductors to justice, and the Guild that sent her home to Serenity. Briefly, she wondered if Zoë would inherit that protection. In the only way that mattered, she already had.

*~*