There was no way she was going to let herself cry again.

She had cried for Malcolm Reynolds before this, cried in a whorehouse where her friend took him to bed. She had cried the night she had told him that she was leaving, hoping and praying that he would for once, just once, stop being so dense and tell her to stay. She had done everything but come right out and tell him that he could have her, body and soul, and had asked herself over and over why he couldn’t see it.

Now she knew.

She thought, not for the first time that night, of sending a wave to her to make sure she knew about Mal and Nandi, just to try and draw some blood. About the only thing that kept her from doing exactly that was her own dignity. She was better than that.

Inara Sera had no illusions about how nasty and catty she could become against another woman for the right man’s affections, and she had no fear of a fight. But how were you supposed to fight against a figment of the past that has destroyed the heart of the man you want?

Malcolm Reynolds was what her father would have called “old-time tough”. He commanded and led the crew of Serenity through the sheer power of his will and temperament. She couldn’t count the number of times she had seen him stare down Jayne, and man who could clearly take Mal apart physically, but was afraid to cross him. It was more than that, of course. She had seen the situations he had gotten himself, and his crew, through. She remembered his willingness to die on Serenity so that the rest of his crew would have the chance to escape it.

And this was the man that she heard gut-wrenching sobs coming from last night. He heart bled for him in his misery, and she wanted so badly to go to him, to comfort him, in any way that she could, but she knew better of it. She could not have imagined a love so powerful living beneath his façade of cynicism. She knew how passionate he was about his crew and their safety and wellbeing, but she would never have expected such a passion within him for a woman.

Oh, th