The thunder and lightning gave their last hurrah a little before dawn, and shortly after the winds began to subside.

In the kitchen Mr Boden lit the fires again, then went outside to see if he could get the generator going, and to determine what other damage might need fixing. Mrs Boden started to prepare breakfast for when anyone needed it.

In the yellow drawing room, Freya was asleep, her head pulled into the crook of Mal’s shoulder where they lay on the carpet, the throw from the sofa covering them. Mal himself was listening to the storm moving away, hopeful now that the house wasn’t in any more danger of flying off its foundations, while upstairs there was quiet conversation.

“Will you tell them?” Sam asked, stroking Inara’s hair, teasing out the tangles with his fingers.

“Of course.” She lay across the bed, her head on his chest, only a sheet covering her. “Frey will know anyway, but I don’t think the others will mind.”

“I got the distinct feeling that Mal might decide to shoot me if I hurt you again.”

She twisted enough so that she could look into his face. “Are you planning on doing that?”

“No. Never.”

“Good. Then I’m sure Freya will stop him.”

“That’s … I’m glad.”

They lay quietly for a few minutes, then Inara asked the question that had been plaguing her most of the night. “So are you staying?”

“Can I?”

She turned over, resting her chin on him. “Do you want to?”

“I thought it was therapists who answered a question with a question,” he pointed out.

“Sam …”

“I’ll stay. If you let me. I don’t need to work if I don’t want to, at least not for the money, and Dr Yi can take on any of my patients who might want to see me. But I’m not quite sure what I’d do here.”

“Love me?”

He lifted his head. “That, I think, goes without saying.”

“Will you tell your daughter?”

“Dhira will love you. And perhaps she can come to visit.”

“That would be nice.”

“In a few months.”

She smiled. “That would be nicer.” A thought occurred to her. “Of cour