Disclaimer: Okay, so none of these people are mine . Whatever, Joss. We both know the truth.

AN: I just finished my long, arduous Life's Too Short, so now I'm gonna do a bunch of short pieces for a while unless someone asks me for a sequel. I have another long piece in mind, but... I'm kinda lazy, so... I'm digging myself into a hole, here, aren't I. Just read. PLEASE REVIEW!!!!! I'LL LOVE YOU SO MUCH!!!!

‘When I was just a little girl, I asked my mother, ‘What will I be? Will I be pretty? Will I be rich?’ Here’s what she said to me…’

Inara had not been prepared for Serenity. She could admit that now. For once in her entire, preplanned life, Inara Serra had been taken completely and utterly by surprise. Although she was a little taken aback by the fact that ‘surprise’ wore suspenders. She remembered first walking aboard, entering that cold, colorless shuttle. She remembered it as if it were yesterday. Hmm. Should I rent this? Overwhelming yes, I think. I need this. Merciful Buddha, but I need this. Although… if I do… this man, this Malcolm Reynolds, is going to be trouble. I don’t think I like that mocking note in his eyes. I don’t particularly like being mocked… And look at those suspenders! Ooh… look at that smile, right there, he doesn’t want to smile, but he is… and those hands… bet they’d know their way around a woman… no. Stop. Stop right there. No relationships with the crew. Especially not with this scruffy captain with his gorgeous eyes and adorable, little-boy smile. Oh, wait, he’s talking. Oh, really? You think so? Okay, give a little pause there right after ‘because you want me’. Let him stew in that! Wait, too long of a pause, back on track. He’s going to rent me this shuttle. I can already tell. And he does want me. I can tell that, too. Not that anything’s ever going to come of it. Did he just insult me? Oh, I can tell this is going to be a fruitful and lucrative business arrangement.

Now, though, she found it hard to believe she’d been so cavalier about it all. She really should have seen it coming. She should have taken one look at those baby blues, and she should have known. She should have known that Mal Reynolds was not like anyone she’d ever met before, and that she was in no way prepared for him. Oh, she’d put up a good front. Inara had cool and disdainful down to an art. She had pretty much every expression and tone down to an art, of course, but it helped to be able to throw back insults just as fast as the infuriating man stabbed them at her. But secretly, Inara had been quaking in her stylish, comfortable slippers. She was playing cat-and-mouse here, and she was going to get caught.

‘Que sera, sera… Whatever will be, will be… The future’s not ours to see, Que sera, sera.’

After the whole Saffron debacle (which no, she was never going to quit teasing him about), and Inara had kissed Mal’s stupid unconscious lips (which no, he still had no idea about, the moron), Inara had started getting seriously worried. She hadn’t even thought twice. She’d just rushed down there, seen him lying there limply like a… limp person, and had acted without hesitation. And what had her action been? If everything was normal, Inara would have called for help, cushioned his head, and then gone to make sure the doctor was coming. But it wasn’t normal. Hell, ‘normal’ was anathema to her Mal. Fe hua! There, see that? HER Mal? Even in her thoughts, her memories, her stupid confessions, endearments were sneaking in. Insults were slung fondly now. It was a travesty. But back to the point. Instead of doing the normal thing, she’d gone and kissed him. Kissed Mal. Who really was incredibly stupid for not figuring that out. But that was beside the point. She loved his endearing stupidity. Argh. There it was again. Then, later, when Mal had slept with one of Inara’s closest friends, everything that had been building had climaxed. And not in a good way. She couldn’t remember ever crying as hard as she’d cried after seeing him come out of Nandi’s room, tucking his shirt in, pulling up those stupid suspenders. It had been a bit gratifying to hear him stutter, to see the look of utter horror in his eyes when he saw her, but only a little. Not nearly as gratifying as it would have been if he’d come to her room to beg her to forgive him, saying that he was scum and he knew he was scum and he would never do a thing like that again, but that seemed like a little too much to ask. She was lucky enough to get stuttering. And anyway, even if he had come, she would have been too busy bawling her eyes out to answer the door. Even now, memory of that horrible, horrible day haunted her. Inara was completely virgin to the kind of pain that comes from rejection. She was one of the most desirable women in the universe, and that wasn’t bragging. It was fact. She was beautiful and talented and a good conversationalist. It wasn’t her fault that Mal brought out the worst in her. In fact, it was all his fault. If he didn’t bring out the worst in her, half the pain they’d gone through might have been avoided. And, come to think of it, since he DID bring out the worst in her, why had all that attraction burned between them since the beginning? Did that make any kind of sense? No. No, it did not. ‘Then I grew up and fell in love. I asked my sweetheart, ‘What lies ahead? Will there be rainbows, day after day?’ Here’s what my sweetheart said.’

So anyway, after that whole hellish ordeal, she’d left Serenity. Not right away, of course, but… she’d weaned her way off the ship. Made her farewells. Kissed and been kissed, hugged and been hugged. Presents had been exchanged, tears had been shed. And then, it had been time to say goodbye to Mal himself. Which, needless to say, had not been the most fun thing in the system. It had been one of those painfully awkward affairs, where anyone watching feels bad for the participants and wants to just go up there and push them both together. Finally. But no one had been watching, and if someone had, they would have been too terrified of Mal because of the horribly grim mood he’d been in for the days before her departure. So they had stood there, silent, not knowing what was too much. Not knowing where the line was. And then she’d gone away. She really should have known, like that first moment on Serenity, what was going to happen. Of course the Miranda horror had happened. Of course Serenity had found her again. Mal had found her again. Only… well, to be honest, she had really wanted to be found. She’d thought she was been very subtle, but apparently all her clients from the period where she severed her ties with Serenity had sandy hair and blue eyes, and most of them carried guns. She hadn’t really noticed. No, honestly. It just happened. And the rumors about her and her ‘pirate captain’ hadn’t exactly helped her recover from Mal. Good grief, and to think that nothing had every really happened between them! It was ridiculous. Yet despite all her protests, or maybe because of them, the rumors persisted. She was made into a romantic figure with a secret, pining love for a dashing thief who flew around stealing from the (maybe) rich and giving to the (sort of) poor (for a small fee). Without the parentheses, of course. A modern-day Robin Hood. The fact that Inara, whenever confronted with another Malnara rumor, always scoffed and said something along the lines of ‘Malcolm Reynolds is a petty thief with no manners and bad dress sense’ never put any of the novices off. They just nodded understandingly and then winked at her as if saying, ‘It’s okay. Your secret, sordid affair is safe with me!’. As she’d said, ridiculous. ‘Que sera, sera… Whatever will be, will be. The future’s not ours to see, Que sera, sera.’

And then, she’d decided to stay on Serenity. After Wash and Book died, after her ties to the ship were cemented, she’d decided to stay. Actually, it was almost BECAUSE of the deaths. When they’d gone, Inara had felt such grief that she hadn’t known what to do with herself. She’d felt Zoe’s grief. She’d felt Kaylee’s. She’d felt the ship itself grieve. And that told her for certain that she belonged here. She could belong nowhere else. Her heart was bound to this place, and it would suffer intensely if she left, and masochism had never really been Inara’s thing. And of course Mal the Moron had done nothing. Absolutely not a single thing. Well, except that one time… But other than that, not a thing. And that one time had been a fluke, anyway. No reason for it. She had been taken by complete surprise. (She’d been getting used to that.) It had been Kaylee’s birthday, and Mal had wanted to make her smile, and he’d asked her what he could do to make her smile. Mal was like that. Blunt. He wouldn’t concoct one of his infamous schemes for things like this, he’d just walk up to you and say, ‘So whaddaya want?’ It was infuriating. Back to the point. Kaylee, being Kaylee, had asked Mal to kiss Inara. Which, again, she probably should have seen coming. The entire crew had been rooting for Mal to make a move. Apparently, he was the only one who had no idea it was going on. So he’d turned to her, swept her down in a dip to rival the dips she’d occasionally made on the dance floor, and planted a kiss right on her mouth. Whoo. Even thinking about that kiss made her want to fan herself. Not that she ever would, of course. Inara was a professional. She was used to getting kissed. Erp. And then he’d let her up amid the thunderous applause (subtlety was really not this crew’s strong point, come to think of it) and had ignored her the rest of the night. One stupid kiss. One breathtaking, heartstopping, belly-tingling kiss, but just the one. Like pretty much everything else with the word ‘Mal’ anywhere near it, it was infuriating. So she’d stayed, because she couldn’t leave anymore, and she’d worked. He snarled. She snarked. He grinned. She smiled. He, she, he, she. A man. A woman. Everybody knows how this story turns out, right? Or at least how it’s supposed to turn out. Only it hadn’t. They’d kept dancing around each other, neither brave enough to take the next step. And even though she despised sexist, chauvinistic pigs, Inara had been fully prepared to claim her rights as a certified woman in this matter. Men were supposed to make the first move, and she was most definitely not a man. She had the ovaries to prove it.

‘Now I have children of my own. They ask their mother, ‘What will I be? Will I be handsome? Will I be wise?’ I tell them tenderly…’ Well, she could admit that it had been partly her fault. She’d been just as terrified. Love. Eek. It was a scary thought, love was. Look at Zoe. She’d loved Wash with all her heart, and his death had ripped her apart. Inara heard her, sometimes. Crying. Crying like she was a lost little thing in the cold, dark night. Crying like a piece of her was gone and would never never ever come back. Inara was not ready to love like that. Or so she told herself. She was not ready, therefore she would not. It was another part of the whole surprise thing. She didn’t really like surprises. She liked being able to determine what she would do, who she would be with. Love was one big surprise. With suspenders. She never would understand the suspenders. Only, it hadn’t worked. All her yelling at herself, all her attempts to close off her heart, all their careful dancing around what was really going on, had not done a bit of good. It was meant to be. Lady Fate, damn Her, had picked these two mismatched, lonely people and jammed them together despite the loud, possibly profane, protests. Cantankerous, difficult, infuriating Mal and careful, elegant, stubborn Inara were Meant To Be. Like she said, she should have known. ‘Que sera, sera… Whatever will be, will be. The future’s not ours to see. Que sera, sera.’ So, one day, it happened. The Big Bang. The Shawhammie. The passion. It had happened exactly like it happened in her dreams: they’d been fighting. (They did that quite a lot.) They’d been in her shuttle. (Bad timing on her part.) She’d been scantily dressed. (Now, that was… never mind, she was almost always scantily dressed. At least she hadn’t been sponge-bathing.) And at one point, he’d grabbed her shoulders. This had been unusual. Mal didn’t generally touch her when they fought. It was like he could sense it between them, this living, burning thing that physical contact would catalyze and ignite. And they had frozen. Stared at each other. She’d felt his warm hands on her skin, and she’d wanted him more than she’d ever wanted anyone in her whole, sex-filled life. He’d turned them, walked her to the wall, pushed her up against it. Waited to see if she’d struggle. She hadn’t. So they’d met, mouth to mouth, no turning back. Hands on skin, sweat mixing with sweat, against the wall, on the floor, eventually on the bed, bodies entwining, blood racing, hearts pounding. They made love until they couldn’t move, and then they’d slept all twisted in each other, her head on his shoulder, his hand on her breast. When they woke up, they stared at each other. Inara had been the first to speak. “Well,” she had said softly, her lips brushing his as she spoke, “Kaylee will be thrilled.” And what she really should have known from the beginning came true. But hey. Whatever will be, right? Whatever will be.