Note: Here lies my debut into the realm of fan fiction. Please, inform me if I get anything wrong, especially by way of characters. This is a somewhat sombre piece, as I can never quite deliver humour in a way that others find funny. I hope you’ll forgive me for that, and any attempts I decide to make.

Summary: Based on Out Of Gas, though set somewhere between where the series ends and the movie picks up. Mal/Inara/Serenity.

Disclaimer: I am not affiliated in any way with Joss Whedon, Tim Minear, or any of the brilliant minds behind the ‘verse. I am, however, forever grateful.

Like Serenity:

The black vacuum of space surrounded and engulfed the almost biotic ship as she glided silently and serenely through space. Zoe had taken Wash back to their room, Wash glaring at the captain after he had jokingly referred again to the so-called ‘agreement’ pertaining to the captain taking Zoe back to his bed.

The smile slipped instantly from the captain’s face as he dropped heavily into the pilot’s chair, staring out of Serenity’s view port in an effort to stem the flow of unsavoury thoughts currently leasing his tired mind.

He thought about how, back on Shadow as a boy, he had gazed longingly from the roof of his house at the night sky. Laying back, hands behind his head, the names of all the constellations that were visible running through his head. How grand it must be out there. Heroic adventures and daring deeds riddled his daydreams until his mother would call him in out of the cold.

He didn’t know the name of a single star in the space they were currently idling their way through. Couldn’t remember when he had given up learning, neither.

He turned to the sound of footsteps as Wash re-entered, collecting the jumper he had left on top of the locker closest to the captain.

“Captain,” he said by way of good night before turning around and hurriedly returning to the woman that awaited him.

It was funny - in a strictly humourless manner, of course- how the ship and its people seemed to embody the things he had lost, left behind on that stagnant battlefield where his beliefs had chosen to stay.

The preacher was obvious. After the initial shock of discovering the fight was over, after re-piecing and re-configuring the shattered remnants of himself in such a way that he closed off the parts of himself that developed hope and purpose, he tore the cross he wore from around his neck. Lifting it by its string to scrutinise it one more time, he dropped it on the ground and brushed his worn boot over it, covering it in dirt stained slightly red from the blood of the man who had just been shot dead beside him.

The preacher was his lost faith.

Zoe was his lost raison d’être. She was a constant reminder of the reasons he had fought, the way it felt to have a purpose and motivation other than the inherent need to survive, to live one day more if only to await the next.

Now, Wash. He wasn’t sure what piece Wash represented, but it had something to do with joy de vivre. A pedestal he might rightly share with Kaylee.

Heaving himself out of the pilot’s chair, the captain made his way down the short staircase, past the crew’s bunks, through the dining area, until eventually he reached the engine room.

Kaylee’s colourful hammock remained secure in its corner of the room. The hum of Serenity’s beating heart instantly soothed the captain’s mind, and the fact that Kaylee sometimes liked to sleep in here didn’t seem so strange.

Kaylee’s piece was obvious. She was everything good, sweet and innocent. It was simple as that.

Resting a hand on the warm engine for a moment, the captain made his way to the cargo area, then finding that his legs had not deigned to stop, but rather continue until he found himself outside Inara’s shuttle.

Inara paused, placing the brush she had been using gently on the table as she recognised the footfalls she could hear outside. Listening, she waited as they stopped just on the other side of the shuttle door to see if they would continue on their lonely visual or tread the soft carpet of her abode. These late night outings had always been common, one of his many ‘captainy things’ that needed doing. Lately, however, he had taken to stopping outside her shuttle for an unnecessary amount of time. She would sometimes fall asleep without hearing him walk away again, taking solace in his being so close.

Tonight she would not wait for him to leave. Circles had been developing steadily under his eyes, and he had been unusually subdued as of late. The whole crew was concerned, and if Serenity’s constant acting up was any indication, so was the ship.

Getting up, she walked over to the door and regally opened it.

“Mal,” she inclined her headed and smiled softly, hoping to avoid any arguments and just find out what was bothering him so. He shuffled his feet slightly as he realised he had been caught out. She stepped aside, allowing him access should he so choose it. He accepted the invitation and stepped past her, making a bee-line for the couch and quickly sitting down. The lack of sleep and decrease in appetite were beginning to make themselves known, and standing in one placed too long elicited dizzy spells that left him disoriented. He had not seen Simon about that, nor had he any intention to.

Closing the door securely behind her, Inara moved to sit beside him, curling her legs under her, a little closer than normal as invading his space led either to a confrontation or a rare moment when Mal would open up slightly. Preferably this would invoke the latter.

Moments passed as Inara stared at Mal and he, feeling her eyes on him, stared resolutely at his booted feet, not entirely sure why he was here.

“Well, I best leave you to catch some shut eye,” he slapped his hands against his thighs as if getting ready to leave, but made no move to do so. Now that he was here he didn’t much want to leave. Inara merely waited for him to speak, head resting elegantly on her hand, arm resting upright on the back of the divan. Looking any where but at her, Mal remarked: “See you haven‘t packed anything yet. Planning on staying a spell?”

“Mal, let‘s not do that.” He finally caught her eye, a little surprised. Nodding his head, he went back to staring at his feet.

“Hmh. Don‘t much feel like arguin’, anyhow. ”

“Tell me what‘s on your mind.” Something about the way she said it, and the way she was looking at him brook no room for dancing around the subject, as would be their wont.

“Don‘t rightly know, myself. Bunch o‘ stuff I‘m not sure I‘m particularly inclined to share.”

“Try.” Taking a deep a deep breath, Mal thought carefully about what it was exactly he wanted to say.

“When the War ended, parts o’ me died along with it, dramatic as it sounds. Serenity gave some of that back to me, the rest is contained on this here boat. Now, that may not make much sense, but let me say my piece.” Quite a thing to say after she had quietly insisted on him ‘speaking his piece’. Glancing over at her to see her reaction, he felt an odd mixture of relief and nervousness to see her rapt attention. She now sat unsupported, hands clasped loosely in her lap, eyes soft as she watched him, waiting, wanting to listen.

“Crazy as it might sound, I love her.” He paused a moment, a small smile gracing his lips. “Funny how I can never say that to a living person, yet saying it ’bout Serenity is as easy as her breaking down seems to be.” It was said fondly, rather than as a joke. He stared at the space between them, his face and eyes culminating into the most serene and content expression. She couldn’t quite name it. The only other time she had seen it was when he had patted an outcrop of the ship after telling them all that he was staying behind when the oxygen was running out. “I fell in love with her the moment I saw her. Something just seemed to click inside my head. She held all the things that had been taken from me, and she was the closest thing to getting them back. I had to have her, though she wasn’t actually running then. Zoe had her doubts, but the fact that I had to breathe life into her, get her going again, endeared her to me something fierce. If she could keep going, so could I.” He stood up, moved closer to the shuttle entrance.

Beautiful. That was it. She had never thought of Mal as beautiful before, but in that moment there was no other way to describe the expression on his face, and the effect it had in the way his shoulders relaxed ever-so-slightly, and his stance eased in to something unmilitary-like. She saw in his face, right there, as he gazed longingly at the door of Inara’s shuttle which connected to the object of his affections, everything he himself had described as the ship.

And it nearly broke her heart when he reached out his hand in aching slowness, fingers seeming to press against nothing, only to retract it back to his side as he bowed his head.

“I can‘t touch her from here,” he mumbled quietly, looking very bothered by that fact. Standing straighter, Mal look at the silky fabric draped across her shoulders.

When they had returned to the ship after Nandi’s funeral, she knew he was going to tell her something that would completely change her mind about leaving. After craving to be with him for so long, and denying herself every time something close to an opportunity arose, his actually saying, putting it out into the open, would have left her completely defenceless and acquiescent to anything he might say or do afterwards. That kind of realisation spurned her at last to inform him of her departure from the ship.

After seeing this open and vulnerable side of Mal, she could do nothing but listen as he moved a step closer. A mere three feet- large as it might sound- separated them.

“My meaning in telling you all this is, well,” he leaned a hand against the wall and took a deep breath. “You‘re the closest thing to Serenity I could ever find.” He made eye contact, staring into the deep brown that was so achingly beautiful after years of seeing nothing but the wasted brown of the sand and dirt he spent so much of his time on. “You‘re not old, people don‘t have to look past rust and age to see you‘re a fine-looking woman. But some of these feelings you cause in me are so much alike.”

“Mal,” her voice was barely a whisper. What could she say to that? She was supposed to be leaving, but he was making it so difficult. He damn near undid her.

“I don‘t want you to go, ‘Nara. I quit fighting for anything once the War was over.” He broke eye contact, and took another step forward, closing the gap further. His voice had taken on the softest of qualities. “My thinking lately has led me to believe that maybe you’re the one thing left in the ‘verse worth fighting for. My asking you to stay may lead to nothing’, but I still remember how to fight for a lost cause. I’m still willing to try.”

That undid her.

Closing the remaining space between them, Inara placed her hands on his shoulders. Tilting her head closer to his, their lips finally met in the lightest of kisses, a mere touch of their lips. Neither of them opened their eyes as they parted for a moment, simply revelling in the fact that finally this was happening. Like every escapade they had ever ventured on, there had never been any guarantees that this moment would come. Yet here it was. Now, that warrants a moments consideration.

Fully considered, they moved as one, deepening the kiss further.

Note: Sorry if I go on too much about what they do, but I have a specific sequence of images and sounds in my head that I am trying, vainly, to get across. Any hints on flow would be greatly appreciated.

Words have no more meaning than the actions that follow.