“Are you sure he’s going to be all right?” Inara sat at the dressing table and tried to pin up her long, lustrous curls, but for some reason this morning her fingers wouldn’t obey her.

Sam Nazir, sitting on the bed and lacing up his black leather shoes, glanced across at her. “You know he is. You spoke to Kaylee.”

“I know.” She let go of the silver comb she was attempting to wind into her hair, but a long strand escaped and slithered down her neck. In frustration she pulled it all loose and tossed the comb at the mirror. It clattered and fell to the table top amidst her make-up and brushes.

“Would you like me to do it?” he asked gently.

She looked at him in the mirror. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

“I do. It’s Mal.” He stood up and crossed to stand behind her, picking up the brush and running it through her hair.

“I mean, he’s been hurt before, and I've not been there. Why should I get all … jittery now?”

“Is that what you are? Jittery?”

She raised an eyebrow at him. “What would you call it?”

“You love him.”

Her mouth dropped open slightly. “Sam, that’s not –“

“Like you love Kaylee. And River. And Freya. All of the crew. Perhaps more, but …” He leaned down and whispered into her ear. “I'm not worried you’re going to run off with him, by the way.”

She had to laugh. “No?”

“No. Besides, Freya would probably have something to say about that.”

“Oh, I know she would.” Inara could remember previous conversations, when the green-eyed monster otherwise known as jealousy had reared its ugly head. “What I feel … about Mal …” She wasn't usually lost for words, but this time she had to think consciously about what she wanted to say. “I don’t want him, not any more. Not like that. Not like I did. But he’s still Mal.”

Sam tried not to smile, as it would only annoy her. “Inara, I understand.”

“Is that the therapist talking, or the man?” she asked sharply, nevertheless.

“Both. The therapist knows that you’re trying to be honest with me, but th