Disclaimer: They’re all Whedon’s.

Author's Note: Set several months post-BDM.

Girl Talk

by Ariane

"Can't sleep?"

Zoe mustered a smile, mostly because Inara's serene presence brought out the politeness in people. In truth Zoe had not come to the kitchen for conversation. She'd come for coffee, a brief stop on her way to the bridge to fiddle with dials and pretend to have a reason to be awake at this hour. Other nights Inara's warm velvet voice and respectful sympathy were a balm and a blessing; after all, it had been a good long time since Zoe'd had an honest-to-God female friend. But tonight the sight of those black hyacinth curls at the head of the table was less than welcome.

"You're on a boat full of gorram insomniacs," she said lightly, pawing through sealed packages in search of coffee grinds. Not the package of real ones, of course. She wasn't planning on wasting an expensive gift like that on one inconsequential sleepless night. At least, not before she convinced little Kaylee that such generosity was sweet but unnecessary, thank you very much.

"Or people with too much on their minds," Inara said softly, and there was a definite invitation there. Zoe felt eyes on her back and stiffened.

"Don't gotta be subtle, Inara," she said, still pleasant but plenty serious. She wasn't looking to be a grieving widow tonight.

"I'm sorry. I only thought..." the Companion said. Zoe was fair certain it was the Companion, and not the woman, who pitched the apology so beautifully and paused so artistically. She could just imagine the graceful bow of her long neck, the dark eyelashes fluttering down all abashed-like. She didn't blame her none, just wished she'd leave the—what did Mal call them?—the wiles in Shuttle One where they belonged. "I only thought... if you wanted to talk—"

"Thanks for offerin', but—"

"I'd rather not be here alone."

The words came out all rushed and awkward, like Inara didn't know her way around such confessions. It just figured, didn't it, that the woman would go