Dedicated to AWindsor. Hope this makes you feel better, dear!

Thanks to TamSibling for taking a look.

***

Stumbling Along

She dreamed about Nandi again last night. It's being back here on this desolate moon that does it. She woke up with her heart pounding even though it was a peaceful little dream: a sweet memory from seven years back, or was it eight? Mal sleeps next to her, snoring softly with his mouth open. She lifts his arm, trying to burrow into the warmth of his bare chest. He turns away from her in his sleep.

When she wakes up again, the far side of the bed is cold. She wants to sleep longer but she promised Simon she would go to the market with him, and it's already half past nine.

Simon orders flowers like he does supplies for the infirmary-with authority and precision.

"You didn't really need me," Inara insists as the vendor wraps up the stems. "You were fine on your own."

Simon smiles and plucks two hibiscus flowers from the laden cart.

"These too, please," he says. He nudges the red bloom behind Inara's ear and drops the white in her shopping bag. "Will you give that to River? She's too old to want a flower from her big brother. I think she'd prefer it from her friend."

"Of course," Inara says, touched. "And thank you."

"Zoe. Do you think . . .?"

"No," she says, shaking her head a little, and after a moment he nods.

"No, you're right. That would be . . . "

He offers a half smile and a crooked arm, and Inara tucks her hand inside, allowing him to lead her. Simon negotiates the crowd with a straight back and sure feet. He seems stronger, less twitchy, as Mal would say. As though he can lose himself in this noisy, sweating market that is ripe with the scents of fish and vegetables and humanity.

Maybe the market has a cloistering effect on Simon, but Inara feels trapped. Once upon a time, five years ago, or two or ten or a hundred for all it matters, Ina