DW/FF crossover fic: The Engineer's Gift (22/27)
Title: The Engineer's Gift
Author: shan21non
Rating: PG-13
Beta Readers: buffyaddict13 and inkhand, who are the best!
Warnings: Swearing in Mandarin!
Pairings: Ten/Rose, Mal/Inara, a bit of Simon/Kaylee
Disclaimer: I don't own Doctor Who or Firefly. How is that fair?Summary: When the Doctor takes a wrong turn, he and Rose find themselves aboard Serenity. Confusion, explosions, mystery, romance, and adventure ensue!
Chapter one Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight Nine Ten Eleven Twelve Thirteen Fourteen Fifteen Sixteen 17A 17B Eighteen Nineteen Twenty Twenty-one
A/N: Thank you all for your patience! I hope you enjoy this chapter :)
Remember, for the Chinese phrases, all you have to do is hover your mouse over the Mandarin, and a translation will pop up.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Before they left Paquin, Hugo and Manuel reappeared. Hugo leaned heavily on his tall friend, his limp more noticeable than ever. Both of them were covered in soot and scrapes, but twin smiles graced their faces as they approached. Mal had only just finished burying the last body, and after such a sorrowful task, he couldn't imagine how anyone could smile.
"You're just in time. We're leavin' for Verbena," he said gruffly.
"We're not," Hugo said. "Manuel and I will stay behind."
Mal stared at him. Who would want to stay on a planet that was in open revolt? A revolt that, incidentally, was about to be put down by encroaching Alliance troops? Mal was known to commit to a lost cause when the situation warranted it, but this wasn't the Battle of Serenity Valley. It was a riot, a disturbance, and one that would soon be put down.
"This is what we do," the short man continued.
He spread out his arms, gesturing to the chaos around him, and his smile broadened.
"What? Get yourselves killed on border worlds?" Jayne spat.
He and the kid called Darius had insisted on burying Suzette Pak's body alone. It had clearly taken a toll on both of them; they sat, sullen, away from the rest of the crew. The way that Jayne spoke up now made it clear that he was just as impressed by the revolutionary pair's smiles as Mal was.
"The Doctor was right," Manuel Prada said.
"Stop it," Rose scolded lightly, elbowing the Doctor.
The Doctor held his hands up in an exaggerated display of innocence.
"Stop what? I didn't do anything."
She narrowed her eyes at him.
"You were gloating. I know how much you love it when people say that phrase."
"Gloating? I didn't say so much as one word!" the Doctor sniffed.
"You did it silently," Rose insisted.
The Doctor snorted.
"Silent gloating? Who ever heard of such a thing? Utterly ridiculous."
"You two mind?" Mal interjected.
"Sorry," they said simultaneously.
Manuel continued as if the interruption hadn't occurred.
"He was right, because what is happening on Paquin isn't an organized revolt, it's knee-jerk aggression. But we can make it into a movement. This could be the start of a Browncoat resurgence."
"We've been waiting for an opportunity like this. People get complacent. Even former Browncoats are starting to get comfortable with all of the supposed 'benefits' of Alliance control, and we knew it would take something on a large scale to get people to open their eyes," Hugo added.
"There ain't gonna be another war. Bug dust ain't enough to make people lay down their lives," Jayne balked.
"Look around you," said Hugo. "I think you'll see differently."
Mal watched Jayne scan the surface and he did the same. There were very few people left on the outskirts, and those that were still in view seemed to be heading for town. They weren't running from the Alliance troops; they were running at them.
For the first time in a long time, Mal felt that old familiar spark of defiance. And he wanted to join them, wanted to race off into the fray, Zoe at his side, and force that Alliance unit retreat in shame. He couldn't help it. Once a Browncoat, always a Browncoat. But he wouldn't be joining up. Not today at least.
"I'll sign up."
It took Mal a moment to figure out who had spoken. Then Darius Pak stepped forward. His face was still red, his eyes puffy from crying, but there was a look of absolute determination on his face. Mal was startled to see such stark resolve on so young a face, but when he thought about it, he realized that he must have looked much the same way when he decided to become an Independent.
"Don't be an idiot," Jayne growled. "I didn't save your hide back in town to have you throw it away now."
Darius pinned him with a solemn look.
"It's what my mama would'a wanted. Heck, she'da already signed up and been leadin' the charge," he replied, his mouth twisting into a smile.
Jayne seemed to have nothing to say to this. He fell silent again, staring ahead at the mound of earth under which Suzette Pak's body lay.
"We wish you luck," Mal said, reaching out a hand to the boy.
He was surprised by the strength of Darius's handshake, but it warmed him to find that the kid was made of tougher stuff than he seemed at first. He'd need to be if he was going to survive.
Jayne, apparently deciding to trust Darius, silently stood and rested his hand on the boy's shoulder. It was a show of tacit approval, and it was a goodbye. When the mercenary let go, he nodded at the crew, and disappeared up Serenity's loading dock.
Everyone else seemed to take this as their cue to go, because soon there was a line of people passing by Darius, Manuel, and Hugo to say their goodbyes. Mal was the last to pass through, and when Hugo's hand clasped his, he felt the man hand something off. He pulled back to see a familiar-looking business card in his palm.
"Just in case you need it," Hugo said.
Mal examined it more closely. It was made of a thick, bright white cardstock with only two words written across the center in bold black font: LIBERTY FACILITATION. He flipped it over. It was blank.
"I don't see a number to call," he noted.
Hugo smiled.
"That's not the way the card works."
"We find you," Manuel continued.
They looked awfully smug.
"I think this last time I found you," Mal couldn't help pointing out.
Manuel gave him a skeptical look.
"Accidentally. By falling on me," he said.
"And then attacking a crippled man with fruit," Hugo added, gesturing with his cane.
Mal frowned.
"Yeah, but still. It should count for something," he said petulantly.
Manuel chuckled.
"We'll find you," he repeated.
Mal silently conceded defeat and slipped the card into his pocket.
He boarded Serenity last, and when he hit the button to raise the loading ramp, he felt a strange sort of calm settle over him. He expected to leave feeling guilty after witnessing the aftermath of their misadventures, but instead he felt content. He was a part of the solution now, not the problem. Things might get worse before they got better, and maybe nothing would change, but at least he'd righted the wrong of dropping those beetles off on Paquin.
"Wash, Kaylee, get us off the ground," he said.
They both gave him a look of mild surprise at being ordered around so quickly, but there wasn't any point in idling on the surface any longer than they had to. They'd best get the Doctor and Rose back to Verbena and find another job while they were there.
"I'm going to send a wave to Warrick so he knows where to send my things," Inara said, excusing herself to her shuttle.
Mal wanted to ask her what location she would give Warrick. Would she have him ship her things directly to Sihnon? To Verbena? Was she planning to hitch a ride with the Doctor and Rose as he'd suggested, or would she stay on Serenity a bit longer? Maybe he could risk a landing on Sihnon to take her there himself. Maybe it would be worth it just to have her on the ship for a bit longer.
But he didn't get to ask her anything, because she was already sweeping up the stairs in her blue gown, and then Simon was speaking.
"I should sterilize these."
He gestured to his leather satchel of medical instruments before making his way to the med lab.
"I s'pose you'll need some help gettin' outta this green monstrosity again," Zoe asked wearily, pointing to Rose's dress. Then she seemed to realize something, a smile spreading across her face. "Unless, Doctor, you'd rather do the deed. I'd completely understand, of course."
If Mal was in a slightly lighter mood, he might have laughed at the Doctor's feeble response. The man's mouth fell open, but no sound came out. When sound did come, it was sort of a nonsensical sputtering. Mal squinted. You'd think the poor soul had never touched the girl before, which, of course, he knew wasn't true.
"There's no need to be coy, Doctor," the captain said. "I saw the way the two of you were pawin' at each other at the ball. I was worried someone would faint from oxygen deprivation."
He was teasing, but he really was trying to put the Doctor at ease. It was pointless to put on airs on this ship. Everyone was exhausted and they'd be flying for another day. If the Doctor and Rose wanted to indulge in a little nocturnal activity to pass the time, then so be it.
If anything, however, the Doctor seemed to grow more anxious. His cheeks went scarlet and he glanced helplessly at the stairs to the upper deck, as if it was an escape route. It was a bizarre reaction to a simple statement, and Mal wondered again just how affected he was by the Alliance's meddling with his brain. Mal turned to Rose, and saw that she was giving her man as curious a look as the rest of them. Finally, she spoke, possibly to put the Doctor out of his misery.
"It's fine. Zoe, I'll just have you help me, yeah?" she said, her tone straightforward and calm.
But before she retreated to her room, she walked up to the Doctor and took his face in her hands. Apology was written all over his features, in his down-turned lips and his drawn-together brows, but it seemed Rose, would have none of it. She gave him a soft smile, went up on her tiptoes, and brought her lips to his as if nothing had happened. The Doctor's eyes drifted shut, and Mal shifted uncomfortably, knowing that he should look away. Thankfully, it was a very brief kiss, and Rose rocked back onto her heels. She spoke to him again, still holding his face in her hands.
"I'll be in bed. You can join me later if you'd like, or not. Either way, we'll be back in the TARDIS tomorrow evening."
Mal really had to stop listening to their conversations. They did nothing but bewilder him. He guessed that 'Tardis' must be the name of their ship, but he couldn't figure why the Doctor wouldn't like to join his girl in bed. If he had a girl like Rose-dark curly hair and red lips flashed through his mind and he swallowed hard.
When he refocused his attention, Rose was walking away with Zoe, and the Doctor was staring after her in some sort of a daze. He glanced around to see that only Jayne and Shepherd Book remained in the room with them. Where River went off to, he had no idea. That girl seemed to have found ways of traveling around the ship that defied the laws of physics.
"I'll spot you, if you'd like," Book said.
He was looking at Jayne, and the mercenary gave a grunt of assent. Book was always good at noticing when people needed to be left alone and when they needed another body around. But he doubted that the pair needed an audience, and he had a few questions that he wanted the Doctor to address. So he turned back to the man in question just as he felt the engines kick on. They were leaving the surface.
"Doctor, a word."
He had clearly interrupted some deep ruminations, because the Doctor seemed startled to realize that he wasn't alone. He nodded absently at Mal, and the captain gestured for him to follow. The kitchen would be empty, and that was as good a place as any to lead a makeshift interrogation.
When they entered the room, he didn't offer the Doctor anything to eat or drink, and the Doctor didn't ask. His mind was clearly still elsewhere, and Mal intended to redirect his attention.
"So, exactly how many lies have you told me since I invited you on my ship?" he asked abruptly.
The effect was exactly what Mal had been going for. The Doctor sat up straighter and fixed Mal with wide eyes. Then a slight smirk seeped into the corners of his mouth. Okay, not exactly what he had been going for.
"Technically you never invited me on your ship. You carried me here, unconscious. I really had no choice in the matter."
Mal narrowed his eyes.
"I'm sorry. I didn't realize you were so adverse to havin' your life saved. I could remedy that right now by pushin' you out an open airlock," he retorted.
The Doctor gave him a full-blown smile now.
"A very thoughtful offer, but I think I'll pass," he replied.
"You didn't answer my question," Mal pointed out.
The Doctor sighed and stretched out in his chair.
"Perhaps it would be easiest if you asked me something more direct."
"Why? Told too many lies to keep track?"
The Doctor smiled again.
"Sometimes lies aren't bad. They're just the grease that keeps the engine moving," he said.
Mal refused to reveal a hint of emotion at that.
"Let's start with your invitation to the ball."
The Doctor pulled the wallet from his pocket and tossed it onto the table in front of Mal.
"Psychic paper," he supplied.
"Never heard of it," Mal said.
He frowned. The wallet, which had once shown him Hugo's LIBERTY FACILITATION card and later an invitation to Atherton Wing's ball, was now completely blank.
"Pick it up," the Doctor said.
Despite the feeling that he shouldn't touch the thing, he did.
"Now show it to me," the Doctor continued.
Frowning incredulously, Mal nevertheless did as instructed. The Doctor's eyes scanned the paper, and he let out a quiet chuckle.
"Well, that's good to know."
Mal frowned again and flipped the wallet around. Instead of it being blank, the small paper inside was now inscribed with writing.
"Doesn't matter how helpful you were. I will throw you out the airlock if I have to," Mal read aloud, his bewilderment growing with every word.
"See? Psychic," the Doctor said, tapping his temple. "It shows the reader what the holder wants them to know, or vice versa."
"Where'd you get this?" Mal asked. "Is this Alliance tech? With somethin' like this, they could… they could do anything. They could do everything."
His anxiety was on the rise, his mind racing with the possible implications of a weapon so powerful.
"It's not Alliance. It's not anything within twenty centuries of this universe, so you can relax," the Doctor said.
"Oh, so now you're a time traveler?" Mal snorted, dubious but relieved.
"Yes, exactly," the Doctor replied, seeming pleased by Mal's deduction.
Mal shook his head in amusement. He was beginning to realize that the Doctor had more in common with River than he'd previously thought. Sure, the man put on a better show of being normal, but his mind was clearly no less addled.
"Wellll, 'time traveler' is actually sort of an insulting title. It implies that I'm some sort of a tourist, just drifting from spot to spot without any responsibility. In reality, I'm a-"
"Time Lord?" Mal interjected.
The Doctor gave him a bemused look, and Mal went on.
"Rose tried to tell us that when she first got onboard." He shook his head at the memory. "Didn't believe it then, don't believe it now."
"I'll tell you what," the Doctor began. "When Rose and I get back to our ship, I'll give you a tour and you'll understand everything."
"Yeah, sure thing, Time Lord," Mal said, unimpressed.
The Doctor might have some shiny toys, but he was obviously fā kuáng. Bless Rose for staying with him after his captivity and indulging in his little fantasies. If nothing else, this conversation put to rest any misgivings he had about the Doctor. Any deceptions perpetrated by the strange man seemed to be a product of his altered mind. He wasn't a threat, at least no more so than River.
Mal held out the brown wallet, but the Doctor shook his head.
"Why don't you keep it? Just until we're back on Verbena. Satisfy your curiosity some more," he said pleasantly.
"Whatever butters your bread," Mal shrugged, letting the psychic paper drop back to the table.
"I sent word to Warrick," Inara called out, entering the room.
She paused halfway to the table.
"I'm not interrupting anything, am I?" she asked. She took a few more steps. "Simon and Kaylee are using the Cortex in my shuttle and I wanted some tea before bed."
Mal gestured for her to sit.
"You're always welcome in here," he said.
She gave him a curious smile. The second that she sat, the Doctor stood.
"Well, I should be off," he announced.
Mal smirked.
"Sure. You don't want to keep your lady waiting."
The Doctor flushed and faltered a bit in his stride, but he made it out the doorway with a vague mumble that sounded something like, 'Good night.'
"You shouldn't do that," Inara gently scolded.
She wasn't smiling anymore, but there was a twinkle of amusement in her eyes.
"I didn't do a thing," Mal denied.
Now Inara did smile. She glanced back at the doorway.
"He's shy about matters of the heart. I like that."
"Really?" Mal asked skeptically.
Inara turned back to him.
"Why so surprised?"
He raised an eyebrow.
"Nothin'. It's just that women in your profession aren't known for bein' shy in that regard."
Her features turned to ice. She was up and at the stove without a word, and Mal knew that he'd said the wrong thing.
"I didn't mean it as a knock against Companions," he insisted.
She barely looked up from the teakettle when she replied.
"I think it's best if we just don't talk about my profession at all."
He sighed and fell silent for a few minutes. She did the same, moving smoothly through the kitchen to prepare her tea. Mal wondered idly if that was something they taught in Companion training-how to move like you were gliding. He figured they must, but maybe it was something unique to Inara. He'd never seen another woman move that way.
"How long till Verbena?" she asked a little while later, once her tea was steeping.
"'Bout half a day."
She placed the little ceramic teapot on the table along with two cups and saucers. Mal had always thought that the porcelain was hers, but either it wasn't, or she'd decided to leave it behind when she packed for Persephone.
"Would you like some? It's jasmine," she said.
He wasn't much of a tea drinker, but took it as a peace offering with a muttered, "Thanks."
They sat in silence. He thought back to the conversation they'd had at the buffet table earlier that evening. The ease of it, talking to her, off the ship, without the burden of their roles to play, now seemed a million miles away. But it had been so nice to see her smile and laugh, and to know that out of all the stuffy aristocrats in the ballroom, she preferred to stand with him.
He remembered something then, and reached into his coat pocket.
"Want a snack to go with your tea?" he asked, holding up a familiar red fruit.
It was ridiculous, the amount of relief he felt when the smile returned to her face.
"You resisted the urge to hurl it at someone," she noted fondly.
"We'd better eat it now, before my resolve is tested," he said sagely.
She laughed, and he couldn't stop himself from grinning. He stood and retrieved a knife from the counter, but paused with the blade against the skin of the pomegranate.
"How exactly do you eat one of these things?" he asked sheepishly.
Inara gave him a playful sigh, and gestured for him to come back to the table. When he did, she took the knife and fruit from him, and carefully sliced the very top off.
"There's no edible flesh on a pomegranate. You just eat the seeds," she explained, tilting the cut end for him to see. Sure enough, there was only a white rind and plump ruby seeds inside.
"The seeds are divided into several chambers, so you have to score the skin in several vertical lines," she continued, slicing as she spoke. "And then… voila!"
She gently pulled at the edges of the fruit and it popped apart into two pieces. She repeated the process until there were five wedges on the table, each bursting with delicate seeds.
"And you're sure that you're s'posed to eat the seeds?" Mal asked dubiously.
Rather than replying, Inara plucked on of the wedges from the table and took a large bite, consuming at least dozen seeds at once. When she pulled the rind away, bright red juice lined her lips, and she grinned at him.
"Convinced?" she asked.
Pulling his eyes from her lips with a bit of difficulty, Mal picked up a wedge for himself and chomped down. He was surprised by the texture (strangely pulpy) and the taste (tart, but not unpleasantly so). He made a noise of approval, and they continued to eat and drink without comment.
They both reached for the last wedge at the same time. Their hands met over the tops of he seeds, and Mal immediately pulled back and let his hand drop to the table.
"You go ahead," he said.
"What's that?" Inara asked sharply.
Mal was puzzled by the curtness of her reply, but he quickly realized that she wasn't talking about the pomegranate. Her eyes were on his hand, which was resting on top of the Doctor's psychic paper. His heart leapt to his throat when he read the words displayed as clear as day on the previously blank page.
'Please don't leave.'
She had dropped her wedge of fruit and stared openly at his face now, trying to discern the meaning of the note. Mal seemed to have forgotten to breathe. The Doctor's words were echoing in his brain.
'It shows the reader what the holder wants them to know, or vice versa.'
"It's a magic trick from the Doctor," Mal managed to reply, drawing his hand away. Then, knowing that he shouldn't, he continued. "Pick it up."
Inara eyed him warily, but as it was only a piece of paper, she did as he asked.
"Now show it to me," he said, pushing aside the voice in his head that was telling him to stop.
She did so, and Mal stared with bated breath. Before his eyes, the words on the psychic paper disappeared. Then, slowly, inky black writing appeared, as if scribbled by an invisible hand.
'Just tell me.'
His heart thudded against his ribcage. He glanced up at her face, and saw her glancing back at him curiously, oblivious to the message on the paper. If what the Doctor told him was true, then he was reading her thoughts. Just tell her what, though? Just tell her that he wanted her to stay? Just tell her what the magic trick was? Just tell her what he meant by 'Please don't leave'? There was only one way to find out.
"Now flip it around and read what it says," Mal said.
When her eyes fell on the paper, she gasped.
"It's psychic paper. Is that what you were thinking?" he asked.
For a second, she didn't respond at all. Her cheeks colored slightly, and her eyes scanned the page again, as if she was waiting for the message to change, but then she looked back at him with something like fear in her eyes.
"When you touched it, it said 'Please don't leave,'" she noted.
Of course, it hadn't occurred to him a second ago that revealing the paper's trick would also reveal his own secret. He swallowed and took a deep breath.
"It did," he replied simply.
"So then…" Her voice trailed off.
"What do you want me to tell you?" he asked.
His pulse was rocketing again. It was so strange yet so completely them that it literally took a mind reader to get them to speak the truth to each other. They were on the verge of something here. He could feel it.
Inara bit her lip, and he put out a hand to stop her, resting it gently on her wrist. He didn't remove his hand when she stopped. He waited.
"I want you to tell me the truth. What do you want from me?" she asked.
Her voice wasn't the confident, lilting tone of the woman he knew. She sounded skittish and unsure.
"Well, I could say that I just want you to do whatever makes you happy, but I think the paper made it pretty clear that that's a lie," he said.
There was a lightness to his voice, but he felt the pulse in her wrist jump, and knew that his words hit home. It was now or never, and he was going to go for broke.
"I'm selfish, Inara. I want you to stay," he admitted.
He released her wrist. The cards were on the table. He wasn't going to hold her there. It was her turn to speak.
Her eyes seemed glued to his, but she didn't say anything for what felt like a long while. He could see that she was at war with herself. Her face was no longer a careful mask, but a map of nervousness as she tried to form a response.
Finally, instead of speaking, she picked up the brown wallet and stared at it. Mal couldn't see the words that appeared, but whatever they were, they caused tears to spring to Inara's eyes. She blinked them away and turned the paper to him.
'I can't be two things at once.'
"I couldn't stop working," Inara said, finally breaking her silence. "I was going back to Sihnon to teach at the Academy. If I stayed on Serenity, I would continue to see clients."
Mal frowned at the implications. He couldn't share her. She knew it, and he knew it.
"I'm a Companion, Mal. It's what I was raised to do. It's all I know. You can't ask me to give that up, just as I'd never ask you to give up your life on Serenity," she continued.
Her words hit him like a sonic rifle blast to the gut. As devastating as they were, he knew she was right. It didn't make the moment any less painful. So many months of dancing around the truth, and now that they were finally being honest with each other, the outcome would be no different.
His mind started spinning, trying to come up with any solutions, a compromise, a magical answer to their problem. Then, he thought he might have found it.
"I'm not sure about job security of a Guild registered Companion," he said.
Inara's anguished frown fell away.
"This coming from the smuggler? The man who lives from job to job? Really?" she asked skeptically.
"I don't think anyone who works for an Alliance organization is secure," Mal went on. "If what happened on Paquin is any indication-"
"It's not," she interrupted.
"-any indication of things to come-"
"Mal, it's not," she cut him off. "I'm sorry, and this is the only time you'll ever hear me say this, but Jayne was right. The bugs aren't enough to cause a revolution. People aren't going to be willing to die for that."
The look that she gave him was kind and imploring. She wanted him to accept reality. But he wasn't convinced that she was right anymore. Not at all.
"Darius Pak is," he pointed out.
Inara shook her head.
"His own mother was killed. By the rioters who attacked the police station, I might add. Not by any government organization. Movements like this don't produce change, Mal. They consume themselves."
She took his hand in hers, trying to soften the blow. He was unyielding.
"Think about what the Alliance did to River."
That provoked a wince. She frowned and waited for him to continue.
"Now think about the bugs, and a picture starts to emerge. What else are they doin'? What else have they already done?" he pressed.
She shook her head again.
"The problem is that the people on this ship are essentially the only people who know about River, and nobody beyond the Rim planets knows about the bugs," she replied. "If you really wanted to start a revolution, you'd have had Mr. Universe, I don't know, order the beetles to dance the tango and broadcast it across the Cortex to prove what the Alliance had done."
She was right on that point, and he said as much.
"Then next time that's what we'll do."
"Next time?" she repeated.
"We're gonna stumble across somethin' else they done, Inara. It's inevitable," Mal said. "And we'll do it right. If the bugs ain't enough to start a revolution, then the next thing will be."
"This is all a lot of ifs and maybes," she said delicately.
"Can't you wait just a bit? See if one of those ifs or maybes comes true?" he asked.
It was the closest he'd come to pleading with her, and he could see her struggling to come up with an answer.
"What if it doesn't come, but I don't have the strength to leave anymore?" she asked.
Her voice was tremulous and quiet, barely above a whisper, as if the very thought of it was too terrifying to speak aloud. He knew that she was proud of her position. He knew that she was taught not to rely on others, especially not men, to provide for her what she could prove for herself. He knew that she melded better in the sophisticated world of Sihnon than she did on any backwoods moon. But it didn't have to be her on his ship. It could be their ship. It could be their life.
He couldn't stand to see the indecision in her eyes, so he leaned forward across the table.
"Would that be so bad?" he asked.
She let out a shaky breath, but she didn't pull away. Her eyes flashed down to his lips, and before she could think too much about what he might do, he did it.
His lips met hers, and he saw stars just before he squeezed his eyes shut. She was too far away, and it was awkward with the table between them, her sitting, and him half-standing. But he forgot about all of that when he felt her respond, her lips moving slowly against his. He reached out to thread his fingers through her dark hair, and very gently, he parted his lips. Before he could do anything else, she pulled back.
He heard the chair scrape against the floor, and by the time he realized what had just happened, she was halfway across the room, eyes full of tears and trained on the floor.
"I can't. I'm sorry. I just can't," she gasped.
He didn't say a word. He just stood by and watched her go.
Chinese Translations:
fā kuáng = crazy
End Notes: Oh, Mal and Inara. They break my heart, but they are extremely fun to write. What did you think?
On to chapter 23!