The shuttle looked like – well, it looked like a shuttle. All unfeeling metal and hard angles, purely functional, like a shuttle should look.

Empty , Mal thought before he could stop himself. Cold and downright unfriendly, not that Inara was exactly warm and invitin’. To me, anyway.

He didn’t dwell on the why of that; he just went inside. His footfalls echoed too loudly on the deck, now that there were no thick rugs to muffle the sound. Never realized how much a few bits of cloth and some fripperies scattered around could make a place so different.

Nothing of her remained, except … Mal stopped, sniffed the air. Yep, there was the faintest whiff of incense –some almost-familiar yet exotic scent that he couldn’t have begun to put a name to. Kinda like Inara, he mused, and wished he hadn’t.

Other than that, there was no sign that this shuttle had been Inara’s home for nigh on a year. Not a shoe, an earring, a hair-comb accidentally dropped or scarf forgotten. It was like she’d never been there at all.

A year , Mal reflected with a pang. Don’t seem like it could’ve been that long. Wonder if Kaylee’s ever gonna talk to me again without glarin’.

He glanced around the passenger area and found he couldn’t remember if the table had been there or there, if the settee had been red or green or gold, if the bed had been –

Mal put a halt to that train of thought. That gorram bed and everything it stood for had been the start of too many fights, and the end of Inara’s presence on Serenity . Just as well, Mal decided. Leastways now we don’t have to stick to “civilized” worlds when we’re looking for work.

He went into the cockpit, sat down in the pilot’s chair. When he turned to look out at the endless black of space, his foot kicked into something underneath the console.

It was a lacquered metal trunk, very fancy, with Chinese designs etched into the panels. Inara’s name and the location of the training house showed the scrolling address displa