Mal was at the end of a very short tether. He couldn't get a straight answer out of Inara to save either of their lives, and he was fed up. Either she wants to stay or she doesn't. How gorram hard can that be. "I don't know," wasn't good enough any more. He'd spent too many years after the war begging for scraps and he wasn't going to do it with her. Either she's in or she's out.

Working up a fine head of steam, he paused outside her shuttle. Just as he was about to open the door, he stopped because he could hear the unmistakable sounds of a female softly crying. Hell, he'd rather be stuck back in that

internnment camp after the war than face a crying female. He never knew what to say, and anything that managed to come out of his mouth only served to confound things more. The fact that the odds were good that the crying female was Inara only made it worse.

He steeled himself before knocking on the door. Maybe, if Buddha was smiling on him, it was actually Jayne in there bawling. At least then, there could be some mockery.

A soft muffled voice: "Come in."

Definately not Jayne.

Mal swung open the door to find Inara sitting on the couch, with the one lone trunk in front of her. She was barefaced and barefoot - neither of which Mal had ever recalled seeing. Suited her.

His anger dissipated, seeing her look so small. Funny, it was usually the shuttle that seemed too small when the two of them were in it. He sat down across from her.

"Hey there. Just wanted to check and see..."

"What? If I was leaving? How the packing was going? Well, not much to pack, as you can see."

She sounded like she might either slap him or start up with the waterworks again.

Dear Buddha, please let it be the slapping.

He took a deep breath.

"No, surely not much there. Which leaves a body to wonder why you're still here on this rustbucket, what with so little sundries and all."

"What?" She looked startled.

"Why are you still here, Inara? Not...mind...that I'm shovin' ya out the door. I really