Companions were trained to appear flawless.

As soon as Simon removed her bandage, Inara’s eyes had been drawn to the scar on her stomach. It would fade with time, the doctor said. Inara quickly covered her distress and kissed Simon’s cheek, smiling her thanks.

It was only a scar.

She studied it in the dim-light of her shuttle, using a small hand-mirror. Makeup tricks flashed through her mind. Perhaps, given the right posture, a client would not even notice.

“If I take to the job again,” she whispered, quickly followed by a sharp admonishment. Don’t hope. I can’t ever hope when it comes to Mal . She’d learned that the hard way.

Soft kisses and gentle touches—it belonged to a hazy dream she might have had hundreds of times before. Mal was as ever. Closed off. Cold. A tangle of mixed-signals and hopes that often resulted in harsh words.

When the door to her shuttle banged and Mal barged in, she shut her eyes in annoyance. So like him .

He took one look at her and immediately backed up. “Oh—ah—didn’t meant to interrupt… I… uh…”

Inara looked down at herself and realized she was still studying her scar. Hastily, she tossed the mirror aside and rearranged her shirt.

“I seem to recall making a rule about knocking.”

“Uh… yeah…” Mal said, still looking distinctly uncomfortable. “Good rule, that one. Should heed it.”

“Yes,” she said coldly. “You should.”

They eyed each other wearily.

“Was there something you wanted?” she snapped.

He gave a small start and glanced around. “Heard Simon took off your bandage.”

“Yes, he did.” She folded her arms over her chest and raised her eyebrows. “And…?”

He was embarrassed now and gestured towards the hand-mirror. “Well, just concerned is all, wanted to see how you was handling things. You okay?”

She gave a tight-lipped smile. “Fine.”

He studied her and Inara had the distinct impression she wasn’t fooling him in the slightest. Finally, his hands began fiddling with the top buttons of his shirt.

“Mal… Mal! What are you