FIC: "She Says," Inara, PG for everysingleway
These song meme fic things are all turning out to be much longer than I think they're supposed to be. I've started two, and they're both over a thousand words. Hmm. They are, however, turning out to be exactly what I needed in terms of warm-ups for ficathons fic and RP, so . . . yay!
I've got one of 'em finished; here you are:
TITLE: She Says
RATING: PG
FANDOM: Firefly
CHARACTER/PAIRING: Inara, Inara/Mal somewhat implied
SUMMARY: Silent all these years. Inara says she's leaving at the end of "Heart of Gold;" I figure we ought to take the lady seriously.
SPOILERS: Post-"Heart of Gold;" pretty much completely disregards everything from "Serenity" the movie.
NOTES: After a request by everysingleway.
Inara quietly packs her things until the shuttle that has been so lushly decorated that it’s been another world, a universe indistinguishable from Serenity, is bare gray metal again. Until there’s no trace of the exotic life that has painted its walls for over a year. Kaylee walks around helplessly behind her as she packs, trying to convince her not to go, that the ship isn’t home without her, that everyone’s going to miss her too much, that whatever’s happened to make her want to go, she’ll fix it. Kaylee is certain, always, that her clever hands can right any wrong, and she’s usually correct. But not this time. Inara’s problem isn’t a missing part or a misalignment, and it isn’t Kaylee’s fault.
As they reach Persephone, the closest acceptable planet that will have enough boats going in and out and that doesn’t have “gutting sturgeon” as the principle form of recreation, the crew drifts by one by one to say goodbye. Zoë is terse, no nonsense, a brief nod and their hands meeting for a moment. The language of women of their ilk is largely unspoken, and Inara isn’t sure if this is a gift or a curse. Zoë seems to wear the quiet like armor, but Inara often feels trapped by it, wanting to reach out, wanting to let all the words leap out her throat before they suffocate her, before they strangle her heart.
Wash takes a brief break from the helm to come see her, hugging her enthusiastically, insisting that she write and be careful and not do anything he wouldn’t do . . . wait, on second thought, don’t use that as a guideline. She’ll miss him; there are few genuinely kind people in the ‘verse, and he’s always been able to make her smile, which precious few men can do.
Jayne wants to know if, since she’s no longer living on the ship, does this mean she’s rescinding her no servicing of crewmembers rule. Kaylee hits him on her behalf, but in truth, Inara will miss him too. She wonders if this is a good thing or not.
The preacher is kind and gentle and reads her short prayer of good luck, then says cryptically, “You can’t run forever, child.” Inara is bothered, but can’t seem to direct her uncomfortable feelings at Book, who just smiles enigmatically and leaves her to her maddening thoughts.
Kaylee, when she finally gets a quiet moment alone with her for a formal goodbye, cries. She cries, and warns her to be careful out there in the big wide world like it’s Inara that’s the small town girl, and tells her for the twentieth time how much everyone’s going to miss her. Inara holds the girl for a long, long time, one hand keeping Kaylee pressed to her, the other soothing over her back, whispering against her, “I’m sorry, mei mei. I can’t stay. It’s time.”
The doctor is of his usual clumsiness and an unusual sentimentality; he hugs her awkwardly and wishes her well, stumbling over his speech. Inara wishes, in a sentimentality unusual to herself, that she’d gotten to know him better: he has an unexpected charm to him beneath the façade that is mostly worry for his sister, needing to be the adult when he’s just left being a child. She kisses him on the cheek and he doesn’t blush in the face of being touched that way by a beautiful woman.
River looks around the empty hull of what was the companion’s shuttle solemnly and says, “I can hear the ocean,” before Simon smiles apologetically and leads the girl away.
They pass through the oval doorway; when they go, the captain appears in the maw. Either he came at just the right moment to be covered by Simon and River’s exit, or he has somehow found a way to move through the ship’s passages like a ghost; Inara swears she didn’t see him there a moment before.
“So you’re all packed up, then,” he says.
“Yes,” she says.
“We’ll, uh, be coming up onto Persephone in about ten minutes,” he says, coming into the room proper in a manner that very much lacks his usual bravado.
“I’m glad to hear it,” she says.
“Eager to get gone, are you?” he asks, his voice cutting with more of an edge than probably he meant. Or maybe not.
This is getting hard to bear, all of this, the back and forth, the physical dance of having to stand up to him while speaking, having to meet his eyes to show that she’s as big and strong and tough a soldier as he is, even though she’s just a soft woman, the lying, all of it. She’s just so very tired. She sinks to the bed, stripped, and turns away from him under pretense of checking the fastenings of one of her bags, but then even the pretense is too much, and her hands fall to the mattress and her head bows because the weight of life is just too heavy for her tiny body to bear.
In this position, she may be praying or she may be crying, but she wishes she could scream before the not speaking kills her.
“Inara?”
Her name, and then a warm weight on her shoulder: his hand. He thinks she’s crying. She turns her face to him reluctantly; she doesn’t want to have to go back to shouldering part of the burden, but she doesn’t want guilt, either, so she gives him the view of her face free of tears.
But he would never apologize. He would never say . . . anything that wasn’t safe.
She slithers from under his hand, slides swift and silent as smoke by him and out of the shuttle, into the main body of the ship. She’s so quick and so quiet that he’s surprised; he doesn’t catch her until she’s at the door, and says her name again. She almost doesn’t stop, almost runs away because they’re going to Persephone where she can leave to another planet and never see him again, just find another life and fade away and never think about Malcolm Reynolds or Serenity ever again, but at the last moment she stills in the doorway and turns back to him.
“You all right?”
She smiles, a lovely bow of a smile that makes men melt, a smile that doesn’t reach her eyes.
“I’m fine,” she says.