Written for goldy_dollar as a belated (really, really belated) birthday fic. Rating: PG-13 ish for violence Word Count: 843 Pairing/Character: Mal and Inara, slight crew Prompt: Post-they've-gotten-together-and-all-is-happy-and-shiny, and then Inara gets injured on a regular old, rock&roll drop that should have been a breeze. Mal feels bad. A/N: Special cookies to anyone who can point out the somewhat obscure movie quote I used in this fic *G*

Stay by 2x2

It wasn't supposed to happen. Not like this.

"Hang on, bao bei. Simon's coming…"

She'd been on countless jobs with him now, had fit into their team seamlessly and with such efficiency he wondered how they'd ever managed not to get screwed before, without her there. He'd expected her to do fine, but had been surprised at just how well she'd took to it. Her talent for reading folk had proved invaluable, negotiating deals, sussing out lies, and sweetening their take; they'd never been bringing in more per job, even with the extra share to factor in.

"Reach for it, mister!"

"Mal…?" Her voice stopped him cold, his name little more than a breathy whisper, something in her tone freezing the air in his lungs…

There was always risk, nature of the job, but this… so senseless…

It was an easy job, one the two of them handled easily, and the idea of a night in town, just for them, had lured them into being less cautious than they might otherwise have been. Not that they'd have played out the situation any differently, like as not, but… a couple of gorram kids…

"Reach for it…"

"No! Mal, wait! Don't--"

He ran a hand over his face, paced the area outside of the infirmary as Simon and Zoe worked within.

"Get him out of here!" Simon shouted and Jayne and Zoe caught him under the arms, ignoring his threats and struggles as they dragged him from the room physically, his hands still stained red, red with her blood…

"Inara!"

Fear and rage slithered through him as he paced helplessly, guilt settling on him like a bitter taste in the back of his throat. It shouldn't have happened, it just… shouldn't have…

He sat, held his head in his hands, fingers fisting in his hair.

They'd been strolling through the outskirts of town, hand in hand, a pocket full of coin… together… happy…

"Reach for it, Mister!" a young voice rang out, and Mal's heart was in his throat suddenly, his hand falling to his pistol even as he whirled, only just managing to stop his finger's pull on the trigger as Inara called out for him to wait, the barrel coming face to face with two kids, neither one a day over seven, eyes suddenly wide and scared as they stared death in the face…

He cursed them out fiercely, eyeing the old pistol the one had slung over his hips, the barrel reaching well past his young boy's knee.

Inara tried to sooth the frightened children and Mal both, but he knew the trouble these kids were heading for if he didn't put the fear into them here and now. "Where'd you get that gorram pistol?" he growled, neither boy answering as they cowered in the face of his anger. "You'd better get your pi gou's home and put your daddy's gun away before I fill you both with lead! Dong ma?" he roared and away they ran, terrified of his fierceness.

"Mal," Inara chastised him for being so harsh, but he didn't see the humour, a reprimand on his own tongue when heard the kids yell a curse in Chinese back at them that would make even Jayne blush. Clamping his jaw shut, he turned and flinched as the shot rang out, pistol finding its way into his hand again and he took two steps toward them, intent on tanning their hides but good when Inara's voice stopped him cold.

"Mal…?"

He turned back and stared at her, not comprehending the stunned, pale expression on her face until she pulled her hand away from her chest, breath leaving his lungs in a pained whoosh as he took in the rapidly spreading crimson stain beneath…

"No," he breathed as she fell, legs buckling…

He squeezed his eyes shut, tears escaping to splash unheeded on the floor between his knees as he prayed to a God he'd turned away from years before, to any God that would listen… Please don't take her…

Simon's curse and his barked order to "hold it!" had Mal on his feet and across the room in seconds, Jayne's arm coming around his chest in the doorway as he strained to see what was going on.

"Mal…?"

"Hold it… right there…" Simon gasped, working frantically as Zoe grunted, a grimace on her face.

"Inara…" Mal breathed, watching from the door, hands clutching at Jayne's arm—

"Reach for it, Mister!"

"I can't get it!"

"No…"

She fell, legs buckling…

"Mal…?

"Got it! Yes, there! Yes… okay… okay…"

His heart kick started with the relief he heard in Simon's voice and he closed his eyes. Thank-you… thank-you… thank-you…

Everything else passed in a blur, until, finally, hours later, he was at her side, her pale hand clasped between his large ones—

Red, red with her blood… --and he bent his head over it, pressing his forehead against her knuckles, lips trembling as he dropped a kiss to her fingers.

"Stay with me," he whispered, voice roughened with emotion.

"Stay."