Title : Mirage

Disclaimer : Joss still owns them.

Keywords : Mal, Saffron, crew. Dark fic.

Pairings : Mal/Inara, Zoe/Wash, but it's not a shippy fic.

Summary : What happens to a man who has lost everything?

A/N : Written off a prompt from the lovely AgentRouka . She's more than happy to take care of any therapy bills!

***

In the heat, blood turned sticky. It wasn’t like paint or red wine. It was paste, and it smelled—not just like copper and pain. Like death.

“I didn’t mean to… I thought you would find a way out of it. That’s what you people are known for, remember? The last-minute rescue, the dramatic reveal. I just got lucky this time, that’s all.”

Mal had learned important lessons during the war. Idealism meant nothing in the face of power. If there was a God, he only cared for the corrupt.

Had to look out for you and the people tied to you. Love—there wasn’t a power in the ‘verse that could beat love. Trick was, using it, doing for it. Love could twist a man upside down, inside out.

And leave him with nothing.

“Best I can remember, you got fair warning from me. Don’t much like to be played with.”

He almost called her “Saffron” but he stopped himself. There was no use calling someone a name that wasn’t real.

“Come on, Mal. You can’t honestly say you didn’t expect this.”

“Didn’t. Thought maybe you were smarter than this.”

Mal had lost everything once before. Battle of Serenity Valley. It never occurred to him to lose the war in such a way—Alliance had the numbers, of course, and Alliance had the fancy weapons, and the new machinery. In the end, that made the difference—not his persistence or leadership. It didn’t matter how angry they were with the Alliance, it just kept right on coming until it destroyed every piece of thing around where Mal stood. Everything except for Zoe.

Saffron had an inkling of who he could be, and she was stepping back, eyes clouding, holding her breath, bosom heaving.

“You’re the one losing