So. This is the beginning of my Mal/Inara "epic," hints of which have appeared in some of the shorter stories I've already posted here. This dates from two years ago, after Firefly was cancelled, and even before we knew for sure we'd have the DVDs, let alone a Big Damn Movie.

Things might have played out this way after "Objects In Space..."

No archiving, please,

Disclaimer: This is a work of fanfiction. No infringement is intended on the rights of Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, or 20th Century Fox TV. The space monkeys wouldn't leave me alone till I did this. (c) HawkMoth, 3/15/03.

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"As Dreams Are Made On"

by HawkMoth,

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The client wants to buy her clothes.

This is not unusual. She has several favored clients--ones she sees on a schedule, ones who contract merely for social occasions--who do this. "Let me take you shopping, my dear." It gives them pleasure, so it pleases her. Sometimes there is more afterwards, sometimes not.

He has taken her to an exclusive fashion house, and engaged a private viewing room. Soft music plays, almost subliminally. The air is delicately scented, the lighting designed to flatter anyone. Two models are summoned, who match her closely enough in height, build and coloring. Dresses are brought out; ball gowns, tea gowns, robes and lounging suits. The models walk and pause and preen.

After careful deliberation, he chooses an outfit. It's not a color or style she'd ever pick for herself. But the fabric--she runs it through her fingers as the model waits, poised in a turn, eyes far away. The fabric shimmers in the light. It has a texture like nothing she has ever felt before, like mist, like a cloud.

He wants to see it on her. She nods in graceful acquiescence, and follows the model and the consultant to the changing room. The top is full and flowing, long-sleeved--something like a simple blouse Zoe once wore, but elegant in its way. The skirt falls in long pleats to her toes. The color is elusive--cream shot