“I been thinking, Inara.” Mal eased himself down onto the satin sofa.

“Really. Is that a good idea? In your current condition?” She went through to the small galley. “Tea?”

“That sounds fine. Never did get the other cup you promised.”

She smiled. “No, I don’t think you did.”

“And what has my current condition got to do with me thinking?”

“You were shot, Mal. It can make a man … introspective.”

“You mean I’ve been led into considering my own mortality?”

“Something like that.”

“Permaybehaps I have. But there’s something else I’ve been thinking about too. And that’s what you said.”

Inara paused in the act of filling the kettle. “What I said?”

“About you giving up being a Companion.” He’d heard the sudden silence, and knew she was listening intently. “Were you being honest, or were you thinking I was dying, and it didn’t matter what you said?”

She walked slowly into the room, the kettle still in her hand. “I meant it,” she said softly.

“Only you giving up whor … servicing folks don’t mean I won’t get shot any more.”

“That wasn’t what I meant. And you can call it whoring. If I haven’t got used to it by now I never will.”

“Sorry. Didn’t mean to be disrespectful.”

“It’s an honourable profession, Mal.”

“One which you said you’d give up. For me.”

She sat down heavily on the sofa opposite him. “I did.”

“Would you be regretting that now?”

“No. There are … reasons …”

“Like to share them with me?”

She swallowed and licked her lips. “Mal, I …”

“Come on, Inara. Am I that scary to talk to?”

“Oh, yes, horrible.” She fell back onto humour like a drowning man clasping at a rope.

“Well, I guess I try harder.” He smiled. “So tell me.”

“I don’t want to leave,” she said in a rush.

“And I don’t want you to go.” He exhaled loudly. “There, that’s got that out of the way.”

“But if I stayed being a Companion I’d have to.”

“Did I ask you to stop? Did I tell you?” He looked at her oddly. “’Cause if I did, I don’t exactly remember.”

“No, of course you didn’t. That’s not the point.” She realised she still had hold of the kettle, and got up, going back to the galley. “Camomile or mint?”

“What?”

“Tea. Which would you prefer? Or I have some raspberry and lotus leaf, only that’s a little old and I don’t know how potent it is any –”

“’Nara.” His one word, just the use of her name, cut through her.

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “Okay.” She stepped into the room again. “Okay.” Looking at him, noting the slight shadows under his eyes from the pain he was in, despite Simon’s medication, she knew she had to tell the truth. “If I leave, I’ll be worrying that you’re hurting, that someone’s finally managed to do what so many have tried, and killed you. I can’t wait for Zoe or Jayne or … or even Kaylee to wave me and tell me you’re dead. Nor can I stand around this boat and wait for them to come back with a corpse.”

“Can’t promise it ain’t gonna happen,” Mal pointed out gently. “Work like ours, accidents happen.”

“I know. So I had to decide which I’d hate most.” She paused, then continued, the words rushing out of her. “If I thought you died with my name on your lips, with me not being there to hold you, to comfort you, to make your last moments at least more bearable … I can’t live with that.”

“So it’s okay if I die so long as you’re there?”

“Yes. I mean, no. I mean …” She threw her hands up in exasperation. “Don’t twist my words around!”

“You seem to be doing that enough your own self, honey,” Mal said, his voice low, warm. “But I think I understand you.”

“Do you?”

“If you stay a Companion, you’ll leave Serenity. Which I, for one, would be more than sorry about. And if you leave, you’ll be waiting for a wave to tell you I’m dead. And that would make life hell for you. If you stay, leaving the Guild though that entails, you’ll at least have me between the jobs. That it?”

“Something like that,” she admitted.

“Come here.” When she didn’t move, he patted the sofa and repeated, “Come here.”

With ill grace, surprising in a woman with her training, she sat down next to him. “Am I crazy?” she asked quietly.

“Probably. Certainly for even considering getting yourself mixed up with the likes of me.”

“We’re not mixed up yet.”

“Inara, you know how I feel. It ain’t like I haven’t worn my heart on my sleeve for a long while, and even though we’ve fought ourselves to a standstill, you know I … I care about you.” He couldn’t say it, not yet. Not quite yet. “And you know it still don’t make sense. You staying here won’t stop me getting hurt.”

“It might. If you knew I was here to come back to.”

“You think it might make me more … responsible?”

“Maybe you’ll duck faster.”

“If someone’s coming at me with a blade -”

“Make Jayne walk in front.”

“Ouch.”

“And perhaps you’ll think twice about the kind of jobs you take on.”

“We go where the work is.”

“And there’s all kinds of –” She stopped, biting her lip.

He looked at her and sighed, shaking his head slightly. “This ain’t gonna be easy, is it?”

“No, I don’t think it is.”

“Still, might be something good at the end.”

“There might.”

“And at least I might actually get to sleep in a Companion’s bed.”

“An ex-Companion.”

“Can’t we get all sweaty before you actually resign?”

She was about to make a sharp rejoinder when she realised he was playing with her. “You wouldn’t like that, Mal. And neither would I. I need to be free. And while I’m a Companion, everything I do is proscribed by the Guild.”

“So no sex.”

“No sex.”

“Can we sleep together occasionally? You know, just hold hands?” He was teasing again.

“No.”

“That ain’t fair.”

“Mal, I’m not even sure we can make this work. I’m not going to sleep with you until I know.”

“Most folk don’t wait that long.”

“We’re not most folk, Mal. We’ve known each other too long to be ‘most folk’.”

“Conjure you’re right.” He settled back and winced a little.

“Are you in pain?”

“Just a bit. I got shot.” He grinned. “And I still ain’t had that tea yet.”

She stood up, smoothing the brocade of her dress. “You still haven’t told me what you’d like.” As his mouth opened she added quickly, “In the way of tea.”

“Oh. Well, you got any of that Earl Grey?”

“Earl …” She was surprised. “I didn’t know you liked that.”

“I kinda got the taste a while back, during the war, when we were stationed at a place outside Pinchon. Our chaplain used to make it for us, every Sunday after service. Not really had it since.”

“I think so.” She smiled. “You’ve never really talked about that time.”

“Not much to tell. People were trying to kill me a lot.”

“Nothing changes then.”

“Oh, I think it does.” He smiled at her, and it was warm and inviting.

“Perhaps you’re right.” She turned away before her resolve wavered. “Earl Grey it is.”