Title: No one here but us
Author: godsdaisiechain
Fandom: Firefly/Serenity
Challenges: Health and fitness, triangle, history
Type: Fic
Characters/Pairing: Inara/Mal, Mal/Nandi
Word Count: ~550
Rating: G
Summary: Inara tells Mal something he doesn’t want to hear. Companion piece to  Unwelcome Truth. Non-canon spoiler.


He said they were alone, that no one mattered save them two, him and Nandi, who was his kind of stupid.  And, in a way he weren’t lyin’ too much, least to her.  She had them wiles, Nandi did.  Took hours to chip through the layers of his protection, his feelings, his belief that this meant something, had to mean something otherwise t’weren’t right.  The sort of thing came of bein’ who he was, man with his history as a boy—raised by a woman alone, woman took advantage of and abandoned.

Course that all flew out the window soon as he seen Inara, looking vulnerable and alone.  Not like her usual uppity ambassador self, making a man all crazy like with her infuriating poise and articulateness.  Something troublin’ her, a member of his crew.  Woman under his protection.  A woman determined not to service him.

And his stupid pea brain finally tellin’ him that Nandi were right to tell him she weren’t her.

Wiles.  Them go tsao de companion wiles.  Worse’n’ the tea.

Cause she damn well knew afore he did that Inara was the one he loved.  Inara loved him, too, he reckoned, seein’ as how riled up she were about not bein’ riled up.  How damn polite and forgiving she was—like the time she told him he wine was very ‘fresh,’ which he didn’t know meant bad until Simon let it slip.

Her lovin’ him explained the theivin’ at least, the trying to be one of them.

Later, he seen she been cryin’ like a heartbroken baby.  She tried to pass it off as sorrow for her friend.  Tried to tell him it didn’t matter. That she was glad Nandi had comfort at the end.

He tried not to believe her, but she didn’t even flare up at him.  Not even when he told her what she were like to be feeling.  She stopped him afore he could tell her how he felt.  Told him the one thing he never wanted to hear.  Some sickness eating at her, slowly choking out her life.  Not too long left.

He’d thought that her stayin’ on Persephone with that monkey-brained low life would be the worst thing that could happen to her.  And that the Battle of Serenity Valley was the worst thing that could happen to him. Shows how damn foolish a damn fool could be.

And all he could do for her was to be strong, not pity her, not tell her how healthy she looked.  “You tellin’ them?  Ain’t my news to tell,” he said, wanting to take her in his arms, but holding back because it would only make things worse.  Take away what she thought she was doing for him—not taking the comfort and then leaving him alone.

“I can’t bear the pity,” she said. “Maybe tomorrow.”

“Sorry,” said Mal, shuffling his feet like a little boy, and tugging at the ear Simon had reattached. And she laughed at him.

“You don’t pity me, Mal,” she said.

“No,” he agreed, because the pity was all for hisself.  “I never pity a woman still has as many wiles about her as you. So you’ll tell them tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow, then,” said Inara.