Summary – Just a little M/I angst. Mal helps Inara come to terms with a situation, about which she feels deeply conflicted.

Disclaimer – Their not mine, I just use ‘em.

Note: This little ficlit isn’t related to

anything else I’ve written, and some would say it’s not all that cannon either, but one never knows. The scene takes place 6-8 weeks after Miranda.

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“’Nara,” Mal said rounding the corner into her shuttle. He had just poked his head in to let her know dinner was almost ready, but he stopped short when he saw her. She was lying on her bed in a crumpled heap. Tears were running down her face and from the puffiness of her eyes and the redness around her nose, it looked like she’d been crying for quite some time.

“Knock, Mal. It’s a simple concept” She fired her words at him like bullets.

Mal ignored her barbs, instead he walked in and sat next to her on the bed. He gently raised her chin so that she was forced to look into his eyes.

“’Nara, your crying.” It was a statement rather than a question. She quickly moved to hide her tears, wiping her face on the edge of the sheet that she held in her hand.

“Don’t,” he demanded. “Don’t stop crying just because I barged in on ya. Whatever it is, let it out. My Ma always told me if ya hold it in it’ll just fester.” He put his arms around her and after awhile she cried again. She wept for a good long while, and when it finally seemed like she had no more tears, he spoke.

“You don’t have too, but if you want to talk about what’s turned you into the Tridenthian Falls, I’ll listen.” The corners of her mouth turned up just a touch at his joke, but she didn’t speak for several minutes.

“I haven’t taken clients for a while,” she finally mumbled, her voice just barely a whisper, “Since before Miranda.”

“We all deal with hard times our own way, some of us need longer is all.”

“Then, there was the hooch night incident.” This time she looked at him as she spoke, although her voice was still barely audible.

“’Nara,”