Still able to hear the distant crackling of the burning building behind them, Inara held Mal’s head in her lap as Serenity’s mule bounced along the bumpy terrain. Though he had not regained consciousness, she saw his abused muscles tense each time the mule hit a particularly rough patch of road.

Inara had the time now to examine his body more carefully, damning Atherton to all nine levels of hell as she took in the extent of his savagery. Mal’s normally fair flesh was covered with deep purple contusions and the angry reds and whites of blistering burns. Small, deliberate cuts tattooed his torso, and viscous attention had been paid to his abdomen and groin as well. She dared not turn him over to examine his back, but she could see what looked suspisciously like the marks left by lashes of a whip curling around his sides. She wept silently with the pain of it, her tears spilling down onto his cheeks.

Mal’s eyelids fluttered open. “’M’I dead’?” he asked almost inaudibly, trying to get his eyes to focus properly.

Inara wiped her tears away hastily. “No, Mal, you’re not. We’re headed home to Serenity.”

Mal took a few minutes to process the information. “You drugged me,” he said, slight surprise in the statement. “Good night kiss.”

“Seemed like the thing to do at the time,” Inara replied, stroking her fingers soothingly through his hair.

Mal fought to keep his eyes open. “Wing?”

“Dead,” Inara replied.

Mal nodded, the movement causing him to wince.

“Go back to sleep, Mal. Or I’ll have to kiss you again,” Inara said tenderly.

Mal’s cracked lips tilted into a lop-sided smile. “Kissin’s good,” he said, his speech slurring as he fell back to sleep.

“Yes, it is,” Inara whispered softly, looking out toward the horizon.

xxxxxxxxxx

Two days later, Mal still slept most of the time, his body craving the recuperative power of sleep. Once Simon had repaired what damage he could, Inara had insisted on moving Mal to her shuttle, where the bed was more comfortable and she could keep