River had a method of figuring out what songs correlated with each crew member. Before she would play something for them to give them that little boost they sometimes needed, she would study them. To whoever she was with, River was just plucking idly away at the strings set in acoustic mode. But River was really observing. She noticed their body language, the rhythm of their movements, their speaking pattern and the right level of intonation each word they spoke had. Knowing their emotions was easy. She still was a psychic radio that could see right into their souls. The trick was to channel those emotions the right way.

Of the different crew members, finding a song for Inara was a difficult task. She had though of many songs that would correlate to Inara’s educated, elegant, ethereal, but sad and mournful soul, but for various reasons wouldn’t work. Queen’s “Killer Queen” was too bombastic and immature. Tom Petty’s “Last Dance with Mary Jane” was good, but not only did she lack a harmonica on board, but the main origin of Mary Jane didn’t match with Inara background. Companions weren’t from Indiana towns who had good looking mamas who never were around. Chris Issac’s “Baby Did a Bad, Bad Thing” was more of a Mal song than an Inara song. And “St. Louis Blues” could be misinterpreted as a criticism of Inara’s lifestyle, and unlike the Captain, she did not care about what she did or where she was from and her beliefs.

No, a rock tune or ballad with a screeching lead guitar and heavy base would not suit the Companion at all. What she needed was something heartfelt. Something deep. Something that would make everyone weep when they heard it. And after scouring through Wash’s library of music and downloading random songs off the Cortex, she found it.

It was late that evening. This suited River the most since singing was more of an evening activity. After serenading Kaylee and Simon to sleep and boiling Jayne’s blood at the same time (she’d play him a little George Thoroughgood tomorrow to make it up for him), she decided to head towards Inara’s shuttle. Her timing couldn’t be more perfect. There was a verbal smackdown going on between Mal and her about the usual stuff. This ended with a sudden silence and Mal storming out of the shuttle and past River, not even noticing her. Very quietly, she tiptoed up to her shuttle doors. She heard the soft sobs from behind the door, and felt the conflicting sadness, mourning and shame of Inara flowing through her bloodstream. The song she planned to sing to her couldn’t be more coincidental. But this knowledge did not feed her ego. If anything, it made the song she was about to sing more sorrowful.

She lightly knocked and waited. She stood back and let the moments pass. Inara then opened the shuttle and beckoned in. Her makeup was slightly running, and the courteous demeanor on her was more on for appearances than genuine delight. Both of them knew it was a lie. Neither of them commented on it. River came in and stood in the middle of the room. Inara went over to the small table and poured two cups of her green tea. River was glad for this. She needed a little lubrication for her throat.

“Good evening, River. What brings you here?”

“I came to sing.”

Inara smiled. She figured after her latest row with Mal, a little music could cheer her up. And she was so proud of River finally making progress and becoming less feral and more normal. She loved the music she played, and she loved the satisfaction it brought the young woman even more. She was wondering when she’d come to play for her. “I’m very eager to hear what you have to play.”

“I said sing, not play.”

River, for the first time since she played the Tocatta and Fugue in the cargo bay, lifted up the guitar and raised the shoulder strap above her head. She clasped the neck of the guitar in her right hand and set it to the side. “You’re Spanish, right?”

Inara was puzzled. “My family history is predominantly Iranian, but I do have some Latino blood.”

“Good. It makes my job easier. This is a song from Earth-That-Was by a man named Roy Orbison. He wrote this song called “Crying”, which is a song about the mourning of a lost love. The original song itself was OK, but there was a spanish cover of it done by a woman named Rebekah Del Rio, that makes the whole song split your heart in half just with her voice. It’s called “Llorando”. I hope you like it.”

River began going around the room dimming the lights. When the room was slightly dark, with only the slightest ambient light keeping the room from going completely pitch black, River turned on one of the lamps in the room, making an amateur spotlight on her. She took a few deep breaths, took a pose and cleared her mind. She let both Inara’s sorrow and pain into her soul and mixed it with her own. She then opened her eyes and in a husky soprano, began to sing in Spanish.

“Yo estaba bien…por un tiempo…volviendo a sonreír.” River sang that with a humble attitude as she extended her vowels, like an opera singer. “Luego anoche te vi… tu mano me tocó …y el saludo de tu voz.” She dropped her pitch as well as her head and she felt regret seep into her soul. “Y hablé muy bien y tú…sin saber.” The sadness was starting to infiltrate her singing. She took a deep breath and kept on going. ”Que he estado llorando… por tu amor…llorando por tu amor.” She infused a untapped well of strength into her delivery as she prepared for the chorus. ”Luego de tu adios…sentí todo mi dolor…Sola y llorando…llorando.” Each repeat of the word and vowel emphasis became stronger with each delivery. “Llorando…llorando no es fácil de entender…que al verte otra vez …yo esté llorando.” This last phrase sounded as if she was wounded. She was.

She saw the inherent sadness in her being. She felt the regret of alienation within her trade. She felt the pain of dealing with the artifice of love and never the real deal, and that to actually feel the conflicted emotions within her filled her with such fear and trepidation. She felt the shame that was in her when he called her “whore” which had the tone of painful truth laced in his delivery of the phrase. She felt all the tortured anguish within her that she had learned to bury within her through years of training, and how despite Mal doing the same thing with his anguish, it would always be there between and within them which kept them from ever attaining pure happiness.

As Inara and River looked at each other, tears were welling up in their eyes. There was pain and understanding in them as they looked at each other. There was no need to cover up. They were both fully naked in front of each other and there was nothing that could cover them.

”Yo que pensé… que te olvidé…pero es verdad, es la verdad” River sniffed up a trace amount of snot as she paused to take a breath.” “Que te quiero aun más.. mucho más que ayer. Dime tú que puedo hacer.” Both of them took deep breaths and embraced for the sudden burst of intensity between the two of them. “¿No me quieres ya?... Y siempre estaré… llorando por tu amor… llorando por tu amor.” They struggled to maintain each of their composures and stances so as to not let the intense emotional weight of the song and it’s meaning crush them. River was singing as loudly as she could to keep herself from drowning. ”Tu amor se llevó…todo mi corazón. Y quedo llorando…. Llorando…. Llorando…… llorando. Llorando…..LLORANDO…. POR TU AMOR.”

River collapsed. She lay on the floor of Inara’s shuttle and began crying even more intense than before. Inara kneeled down on the floor and crawled over to River to see if she was all right. River looked up at Inara and said in a whisper

“I weep for you.”

River brought herself up and hugged her. Inara wrapped her arms around the little girl and both of them began sobbing into each other’s shoulders. After a while, River got up and put Inara to bed. River then laid down on one of her couches and fell asleep. They needed each others emotional support.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

(I was alright…for a while… I could smile for a while, but I saw you last night…you held my hand so tight… as you stopped to say hello…oh you wished me well, you… couldn't tell…that I'd been crying…over you…crying over you. And you said so long… left me standing all alone…alone and crying…crying…crying…crying, it's hard to understand…but the touch of your hand…can start me crying.)

(I thought that…I was over you…but it's true so true…I love you even more…than I did before, but darling what can I do…for you don't love me… and I'll always be…crying over you…crying over you, yes now you're gone…and from this moment on…I'll be crying…crying…crying…crying…Crying..Crying…over you.)