[mal/inara] time to say how much it meant
Title: Time to say how much it meant
Fandom: Firefly
Pairing: Mal/Inara
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1157
Summary: Normally, she doesn’t allow herself this kind of luxury.
Disclaimer: I don't own Firefly, or it's characters. I do own the dvd box set, though. Does that count for anything?
A/N: So, I finally got it finished, after much writing/erasing/rewriting/tearing my hair out. My first Mal/Inara fic; my first Firefly fic. It’s probably shorter than I would’ve liked, but *shrugs* the muses tell me where the story stops, so blame them. Any comments would be muchly appreciated; I am such a comment whore. ♥
Time to say how much it meant
*
The tears sting as they spill over her eyelashes. Her throat burns from the harsh sobs that escape her lips. She can’t breathe.
Normally, she doesn’t allow herself this kind of luxury.
Her life is all masks and makeup and perfect expression and a facade that never slips. She does what they want her to do, says what they want her to say; she is who they want her to be. She is so used to playing a part, doing her job, that even when she is alone the mask stays on. Immaculate, controlled.
Tonight, she is losing control.
*
It starts after dinner. The conversation is light and cheerful; a job has just been finished, and it has ended well. No one has been shot, payment has been received, and Serenity is still flying.
Inara lets out a deep laugh as she watches Jayne rise from his chair, and show everyone what Simon’s face had looked like after he’d bitten into the local town’s delicacy; and then discovered it was actually made from cow’s intestines.
Laughter erupts from all around the table -- even Simon can’t suppress the chuckle that escapes his lips -- and Kaylee turns to Inara, amusement clear and shining on her face.
“Oh ‘Nara, bet you’ll be missin’ conversations like this after you’re gone.”
Inara smiles gently, the sudden reference to her impending departure from Serenity stilling her laughter. She places a warm hand on Kaylee’s arm, and opens her mouth to speak.
“Don’t think you’ll be needin’ t’worry ‘bout that, lil Kaylee,” Mal interrupts absently from over his drink. “Inara will be much too busy whorin’ with her fancy clients to miss petty thievin’ folk such as us and our conversations.”
A tense silence fills the air. Inara thinks she hears Book clear his throat. Feels Kaylee’s small hand squeeze her own.
She looks at him from the corner of her eyes, keeping her gaze focused on the food in front of her. He takes another sip from his mug, expression casual and calm. Something inside of her feels heavy, like it’s weighing her down, and it makes her stomach roll. But it isn’t because his words hurt her.
It’s because she expects them.
The heavy feeling inside of her suddenly lurches; hard and fast through her entire body and her mind races. What will life be like without his callous words? Without the constant jabs and taunts and fighting between them? She swallows hard. Breathes. What will life be like without Mal?
The feeling overwhelms her. She looks up from the table, and seven pairs of eyes are staring at her; sympathetic and understanding and he still isn’t even looking at her and she quickly realises just how small the galley can actually be.
Politely, she excuses herself from the table, trusting that her knees won’t give out from underneath her as she stands. She walks away quickly -- calmly, smoothly -- towards her shuttle. Every step is poised, graceful. But her legs begin to shake; the facade is slipping.
She reaches her shuttle, and opens the door, her fingers trembling. She looks at them incredulously as she steps inside, closing the heavy door behind her. She stands in her shuttle, and stops. Lets out a deep and painful breath. Realises that she hasn’t been breathing since she left the table.
Every part of her is shaking now, and her legs no longer feel strong enough to hold her upright. She crumples to the floor, her head in her hands, and begins to cry. She knows she can’t; knows that crying is a weakness that a Companion simply cannot afford. Crying is a break in the control that dictates her life, dictates who she is. But she can’t stop. Feels the sobs grow harsher and begin to wrack her entire body.
Inara doesn’t want to leave Serenity. Doesn’t want to leave her friends. Doesn’t want to leave Mal. But she knows that she has to. She has to, because of the fact that she doesn’t want to. A Companion cannot be tied to something like that. Cannot let emotions and feelings and family and love ruin her control. Masks, makeup, perfect expressions, a never-ending facade. That is what her life is.
She once had a life without Serenity. Knows it. Remembers it.
She can’t stop crying.
*
Mal approaches her shuttle, pausing briefly to debate whether or not he should knock first.
He doesn’t.
He enters, and immediately sees Inara’s form kneeling on the floor, her back to him. He wants to talk to her, wants to tell her he’s sorry for the ‘whore’ comment. Wants to ask her to stay.
Instead, he says, “You didn’t finish your food.”
“Please, just leave me alone.”
A curse of frustration dies on his lips, and he starts, turns around. But there’s something in her voice that makes him stop. A weakness. A catch. Something that he never hears from her. Something that makes his lungs twist up in his chest.
“’Nara?”
“Mal,” a laboured sigh, a sharp intake of air. “I said leave me alone.”
There. Right there. He hears it, loud and clear. The hitch in her voice. A quiet sob.
He knows she’s been crying.
He moves towards her, so that he can see her face, and he falters. Her head is hung low, the black waves of her hair curtaining her face. He can see that her always-perfect makeup is ruined; smudged and running and streaking across her porcelain skin. Her lips are quivering, and her chest is rising and falling so erratically, so unlike her, that he wants to hold her until her breaths steady. The twisted knot in his chest tightens.
It takes him another second, and then he is on his knees, right beside her.
*
He’s close. Too close. It’s even harder to breathe now, and tears continue to spill down her cheeks. She is trying so hard to stop it, to recompose herself, to gain back the control she worked so hard to achieve. But he’s right beside her and his hand is splayed on her back; large and warm and comforting and she can’t handle it.
He stumbles over his words, starting and stopping. Then he manages, “I’m a chou wan ba dan, ‘Nara. I never shoulda’ said what I did...”
“Mal,” she gasps as she turns to him, clutches at his shirt.
He’s thrown by this. This raw display of emotion and helplessness and everything that she normally hides from him. He cradles her in his arms, runs his fingers through her hair, and words and sounds come out of his mouth that he isn’t even aware of. He tells her that he’s here for her, that he won’t let go until she wants him to, that he’ll always be here to hold her. Then he tells her that he doesn’t want her to leave, that she belongs on Serenity. With him.
And she cries even harder.
*
End.
(Chou wan ba dan - lousy bastard)
Fandom: Firefly
Pairing: Mal/Inara
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1157
Summary: Normally, she doesn’t allow herself this kind of luxury.
Disclaimer: I don't own Firefly, or it's characters. I do own the dvd box set, though. Does that count for anything?
A/N: So, I finally got it finished, after much writing/erasing/rewriting/tearing my hair out. My first Mal/Inara fic; my first Firefly fic. It’s probably shorter than I would’ve liked, but *shrugs* the muses tell me where the story stops, so blame them. Any comments would be muchly appreciated; I am such a comment whore. ♥
Time to say how much it meant
*
The tears sting as they spill over her eyelashes. Her throat burns from the harsh sobs that escape her lips. She can’t breathe.
Normally, she doesn’t allow herself this kind of luxury.
Her life is all masks and makeup and perfect expression and a facade that never slips. She does what they want her to do, says what they want her to say; she is who they want her to be. She is so used to playing a part, doing her job, that even when she is alone the mask stays on. Immaculate, controlled.
Tonight, she is losing control.
*
It starts after dinner. The conversation is light and cheerful; a job has just been finished, and it has ended well. No one has been shot, payment has been received, and Serenity is still flying.
Inara lets out a deep laugh as she watches Jayne rise from his chair, and show everyone what Simon’s face had looked like after he’d bitten into the local town’s delicacy; and then discovered it was actually made from cow’s intestines.
Laughter erupts from all around the table -- even Simon can’t suppress the chuckle that escapes his lips -- and Kaylee turns to Inara, amusement clear and shining on her face.
“Oh ‘Nara, bet you’ll be missin’ conversations like this after you’re gone.”
Inara smiles gently, the sudden reference to her impending departure from Serenity stilling her laughter. She places a warm hand on Kaylee’s arm, and opens her mouth to speak.
“Don’t think you’ll be needin’ t’worry ‘bout that, lil Kaylee,” Mal interrupts absently from over his drink. “Inara will be much too busy whorin’ with her fancy clients to miss petty thievin’ folk such as us and our conversations.”
A tense silence fills the air. Inara thinks she hears Book clear his throat. Feels Kaylee’s small hand squeeze her own.
She looks at him from the corner of her eyes, keeping her gaze focused on the food in front of her. He takes another sip from his mug, expression casual and calm. Something inside of her feels heavy, like it’s weighing her down, and it makes her stomach roll. But it isn’t because his words hurt her.
It’s because she expects them.
The heavy feeling inside of her suddenly lurches; hard and fast through her entire body and her mind races. What will life be like without his callous words? Without the constant jabs and taunts and fighting between them? She swallows hard. Breathes. What will life be like without Mal?
The feeling overwhelms her. She looks up from the table, and seven pairs of eyes are staring at her; sympathetic and understanding and he still isn’t even looking at her and she quickly realises just how small the galley can actually be.
Politely, she excuses herself from the table, trusting that her knees won’t give out from underneath her as she stands. She walks away quickly -- calmly, smoothly -- towards her shuttle. Every step is poised, graceful. But her legs begin to shake; the facade is slipping.
She reaches her shuttle, and opens the door, her fingers trembling. She looks at them incredulously as she steps inside, closing the heavy door behind her. She stands in her shuttle, and stops. Lets out a deep and painful breath. Realises that she hasn’t been breathing since she left the table.
Every part of her is shaking now, and her legs no longer feel strong enough to hold her upright. She crumples to the floor, her head in her hands, and begins to cry. She knows she can’t; knows that crying is a weakness that a Companion simply cannot afford. Crying is a break in the control that dictates her life, dictates who she is. But she can’t stop. Feels the sobs grow harsher and begin to wrack her entire body.
Inara doesn’t want to leave Serenity. Doesn’t want to leave her friends. Doesn’t want to leave Mal. But she knows that she has to. She has to, because of the fact that she doesn’t want to. A Companion cannot be tied to something like that. Cannot let emotions and feelings and family and love ruin her control. Masks, makeup, perfect expressions, a never-ending facade. That is what her life is.
She once had a life without Serenity. Knows it. Remembers it.
She can’t stop crying.
*
Mal approaches her shuttle, pausing briefly to debate whether or not he should knock first.
He doesn’t.
He enters, and immediately sees Inara’s form kneeling on the floor, her back to him. He wants to talk to her, wants to tell her he’s sorry for the ‘whore’ comment. Wants to ask her to stay.
Instead, he says, “You didn’t finish your food.”
“Please, just leave me alone.”
A curse of frustration dies on his lips, and he starts, turns around. But there’s something in her voice that makes him stop. A weakness. A catch. Something that he never hears from her. Something that makes his lungs twist up in his chest.
“’Nara?”
“Mal,” a laboured sigh, a sharp intake of air. “I said leave me alone.”
There. Right there. He hears it, loud and clear. The hitch in her voice. A quiet sob.
He knows she’s been crying.
He moves towards her, so that he can see her face, and he falters. Her head is hung low, the black waves of her hair curtaining her face. He can see that her always-perfect makeup is ruined; smudged and running and streaking across her porcelain skin. Her lips are quivering, and her chest is rising and falling so erratically, so unlike her, that he wants to hold her until her breaths steady. The twisted knot in his chest tightens.
It takes him another second, and then he is on his knees, right beside her.
*
He’s close. Too close. It’s even harder to breathe now, and tears continue to spill down her cheeks. She is trying so hard to stop it, to recompose herself, to gain back the control she worked so hard to achieve. But he’s right beside her and his hand is splayed on her back; large and warm and comforting and she can’t handle it.
He stumbles over his words, starting and stopping. Then he manages, “I’m a chou wan ba dan, ‘Nara. I never shoulda’ said what I did...”
“Mal,” she gasps as she turns to him, clutches at his shirt.
He’s thrown by this. This raw display of emotion and helplessness and everything that she normally hides from him. He cradles her in his arms, runs his fingers through her hair, and words and sounds come out of his mouth that he isn’t even aware of. He tells her that he’s here for her, that he won’t let go until she wants him to, that he’ll always be here to hold her. Then he tells her that he doesn’t want her to leave, that she belongs on Serenity. With him.
And she cries even harder.
*
End.
(Chou wan ba dan - lousy bastard)