Serenity/Firefly Fic: A Beautiful Mess 1/1

[faye_dartmouth]

Title:  A Beautiful Mess

Disclaimer:  Not mine.

A/N:  I wrote this almost a year ago, after geminigrl11  introduced me to this show/movie.  I was quickly smitten, and after watching the movie, I ended up writing this little missing scene.  Also beta’ed by geminigrl11 .

Warnings:  Spoilers for the movie, obviously, and strong undertones of Mal/Inara and Simon/Kaylee.

Summary:  But now the ship was overrun, Reavers everywhere, and knowing where they came from and that it wasn’t their fault really wasn’t much consolation when they were attacking the blast doors and ripping apart the rest of the ship.  Missing scene to Serenity.

-o-

It was a mess.

Not that life on Serenity had ever been clean and orderly, because it hadn’t.  But if Inara had wanted a pampered life, with elegant decor and lush surroundings, she never would have rented out Mal’s dingy little shuttle to begin with.

But now the ship was overrun, Reavers everywhere, and knowing where they came from and that it wasn’t their fault really wasn’t much consolation when they were attacking the blast doors and ripping apart the rest of the ship.  And the ship was in shambles to begin with.  Splashed with red paint, obscenely decorated with human bones; and she could only imagine the damage from the crash.

If Inara were honest, though, that wasn’t even the problem.  She had lived on Serenity long enough to expect such disaster as normal.  That was the way Mal lived, under the radar and by the seat of his pants.  They all scraped by, literally and figuratively, so Inara was used to messes.  She’d be a liar to say that she hadn’t missed it to some degree.

Because there was always solace in it.  A place where appearances didn’t matter, where relationships trumped all.  That was why she’d joined Mal’s motley crew.  Not for the low rent or the obscurity, but because in a life that had her giving herself up, she liked that Serenity could reconnect her to her humanity once again.  The life of a companion was not easy, nor was it without its stressors.  She had no regrets in choosing that life, and she had no regrets about choosing Serenity to begin with, so how it had ended up like this--how it had ended up so bad.

It was a mess.  Zoe couldn’t even move with the wound in her back; even sealed, it was painful and incapacitating.  Jayne, for all his gruff demeanor and uneducated ways, was down with a short to the arm; even the strong might not survive such a deficit against the Reavers.  Kaylee was paralyzed, victim to the darts.  And Simon was shot, going for help, bleeding out all over the floor.

Mal was gone, being the hero that he was, and River was crying, terrified in the corner.

Inara was no hero, and she was no wilting flower.  She knew how to pilot a shuttle and fire a gun and manipulate a man into doing whatever she pleased.

So it was a sobering fact that she had nothing more she can do now except hold back the flow of blood from Simon’s stomach wound, not knowing if it would be enough.

“I’m sorry,” Simon said, and his hands were grappling with the wound helplessly.  But he wasn’t looking at the wound, and he wasn’t looking at Inara, and he wasn’t even looking at Kaylee, though it was obvious he loved her.  No, Simon’s eyes were on River, his sister, the reason they all were here.  Inara could read people, she had that gift of understanding, and she knew the words before Simon ever spoke them.

He writhed a little, blinking wide, wet eyes up at River.  “I didn’t mean to leave you alone.”

For all of his faults, his pride and his arrogance and his blind determination, Simon Tam was a man of passion and dedication.  He believed and he loved; he knew his priorities and he did not waver.  It was something of a miracle to Inara to see a man who knew what he wanted and did not shy away from defending it until the end.

Even when the end came sooner than any of them hoped.

Where Simon had regret, River found her motivation.  Inara guessed maybe it was always there, but for as terrified as the rest of them could be of the girl’s mood swings, no one was more afraid than River herself.

But it was different now.  The look in River’s eyes, the set of her face.  A girl who had been taken apart by the entire world and left in pieces; River was ready to face her demons and win.

It was a certainty Inara suddenly envied.  For the Tams, to know what they meant to each other, to understand what boundaries they would cross, what sacrifices they would make.  There was a beautiful clarity in it, both reassuring and frightening in its devotion.

If only, Inara thought.  Then maybe she never would have left Serenity in the first place...

“You take care of me,” River said, eyes locked on Simon’s.  She wet her lips, resolve evident in her young features.  “My turn.”

And before Simon could speak a word, River was gone, running, flowing, moving, living up to her name.  Rivers were powerful forces, only peaceful from afar.  Stepping in the current was a dangerous proposition and how any of them had survived, how Simon had survived, was nothing short of a miracle.

Inara wondered if she could stop River.  She wondered it was worth trying.

But Inara understood there were some things that must be done.  Some gambles worth taking.  Not because the odds were in their favor, but because it was the right thing to do.  It was the reason Mal took on Simon and River in the first place.  The reason Inara had known Serenity was the right place for her.

The reason she had to let River go while holding on to everyone else.

And hold on, Inara would.  She had left them all once, she had left Serenity and Mal, but these people were a part of her soul.  They were a part of what made her more than a companion, more than a mate for hire.  Too often, the people she gave herself to took that part of her and carried it off forever.

On Serenity, the crew took parts of her and held onto them, because that was what friends did.

The medical bag flew through and the doors shut, and there was finality to it.  They were all making their last stands and suffering for it, and this was Inara’s.

She glanced down at Simon, still watching the blast doors.  The blood loss had already clouded his awareness, or he wouldn’t nave taken this lying down.

That thought somehow spurred her into action, because these people she called friends had fought for a cause and were dying for a cause.  Holding nothing back.

Inara’s life was about restraints and careful decisions.  She had measured responses and tempered choices.  But not this.  Not now.  Not when these people mattered.

Just like that, her decision was made.  Easier than picking the right client, simpler than choosing to rent Mal’s shuttle.  So much easier than choosing to leave.

She was on her feet, moving, moving away from Simon, past Kaylee.  She skirted Zoe and Jayne, picking up the bag with bloodstained hands.  The battle was raging just beyond the doors, a mess of flesh on flesh that she did not want to discern.  That was not her trouble, nor was it her task.

This medical bag was her task, and the wounded and the dying were her charges.  Inara was not one for lost causes, but she was one for peace, truth.  Serenity.

Bag in hand, she ran back to Simon, going to her knees next to him.  He blinked up at her, eyes wide, dilated.

“Who first,” she demanded, opening the bag.  She looked up, meeting his hazy gaze.  “Who first?”

He seemed to shudder, mouth opening but no sound coming out.  His hands fluttered up, but fell back, impotent.  “River,” he breathed.

“Simon, we need you,” she told him plainly, her desperation evident.  “We need you.”

Simon wet his lips as that registered.  He shook his head.  “I--River,” he said, voice breathless.  Then his face scrunched up in pain.  “It hurts.”

She was losing him, faster than she anticipated.  But he wasn’t dead yet, not like Book and Wash (and she didn’t know how to make sense of that).  Losing two was bad enough.  Losing them all...

“Just tell me who to help first,” she said, her voice firm, non-negotiable.  She was paid to be sweet and pliable, but that was only by her choice.  Her inner strength was strong enough to let others do as they wanted and still hold true to the lines she would not cross.

But Simon was wandering, chest hitching.  The blood, the pain, River.  It was too much for him.  Every man had his breaking point, and she was seeing Simon Tam at his.  She would have prayed for him, if there were time.  But prayers were well wishes for lost causes.

They were not lost yet.

She resolved herself, leaning over him, looking at him steadily.  “Kaylee,” she said.  “Tell me how to help Kaylee.”

Simon blinked at that, something triggering in him.  His head rolled to the side, and he looked up toward Kaylee.  They were quite a pair, those two.  Evidence that love did not understand boundaries, that sometimes the truest place for souls to be was in the presence of one another in the vastness of space.

“Adrenaline,” he said finally, and his voice was weak, but knowing.  “She’s been given...a paralytic...”  He gasped uselessly, fingers resting on his still bleeding wound.  “Califer.  The entire vial.”

Inara could do that.  She fumbled through the bag, digging through it with shaking fingers.  The injector was easy to find, the drugs a little harder.  Simon was well-stocked, some medications Inara recognized, many she did not.

Then, she found it.  She worked, unscrewing the top and loading it, trying to focus on the task at hand and not the sound of battle just beyond the doors.

“Make it tight,” Simon said, a little distantly.

She screwed it in.

“Tighter,” Simon breathed.  “Right in the neck.”

Satisfied, she turned so she was facing Kaylee.  The young engineer was prostrate, almost completely still.  Her eyes were open, struggling to stay at half-mast, her mouth slightly agape as she wheezed for air.

Inara tried to smile, brushing the hair away from her neck.  “Just a moment more,” she assured the girl.

Kaylee’s chest hitched, her mouth trembling as if to speak.  The paralytic had a strong hold on her now, and Inara could see the tendrils of panic in her eyes.

Inara kept her smile, pressing the injector to Kaylee’s neck.  She depressed the trigger, and the medicine was administered with a hiss.

Kaylee exhaled, eyes blinking slowly.  It was hard to tell, but she seemed to be breathing easier.  It wasn’t much, but it was something.  Kaylee would be okay.  As long as the blast doors held, as long as Mal did his part, then Kaylee would be okay.

Small victories.  Inara couldn’t fight the war, but she could fight for her friends.

“Better?” Inara asked.

Kaylee closed her mouth with effort, her head inclining ever so slightly.

It was enough.

One down, Inara thought.  She turned her attention back to Simon.  “Who next,” she said, keeping her voice taut.

Simon’s face was pale, glistening with sweat.  His jaw worked for a moment, eyes on Kaylee.  “She ‘kay?” he asked.

“I administered the drug, just like you said,” Inara informed him.  “She seems to be breathing better.”

Simon nodded slightly, face almost blank.  “She just needs to rest,” he murmured.  “A few hours.  Maybe...”  His back arched with a fresh stab of pain.  “Maybe a second dose.”  His voice broke off, lost in a pained yelp.

Inara leaned over him, a hand on his shoulder.  He was losing it, and she could feel him slipping away.  It was all slipping away.  The sounds outside were louder, frantic, and she didn’t want to know, couldn’t know.

She needed Simon to hold on, just a little longer.  They all just needed to hold on a little longer.  “Tell me who to help,” she said, trying to meet Simon’s eyes.  “Zoe or Jayne.  Who should I help?”

Simon’s head rolled back toward her and he was panting now.  “Zoe’s stable,” he said raggedly.  “She’ll need...surgery, but it should...should hold.  Just keep her...still.  She needs...to be still.”

Inara nodded readily.  “Jayne then,” she said.  “What can I do for Jayne?”

Comprehension filtered slowly through Simon’s eyes.  “Check...circulation.”  His eyes screwed shut for a long moment, teeth clenched.  “An antibiotic.  Fend off...infection...until we get out.  Maybe saline...if he’s...shocky”

Inara had no idea how to tell if he was shocky, and she wasn’t even sure what she was looking for when it came to circulation, but she had to try.  Simon’s bag in hand, she moved past Kaylee, stepping over Simon’s outstretched feet.  Maneuvering around Zoe, she went to her knees next to Jayne.

“Simon says we need to check your circulation,” she explained.

Jayne looked up at her, something like a scowl on his face.  “I’m circulatin’ just fine,” he snapped.  “Don’t mean much of anything anyway.”

“The blast doors will hold,” Zoe said from behind her.

Jayne gave Zoe a look.  “So the Reavers’ll jus’ find another way in,” he said with a growl.  He shifted, wincing as he held his arm.  “And if Mal don’t get his part done, then I don’t know what we’re all holding out for anyway.”

Zoe took a stinted breath.  “Mal will get it done,” she said resolutely, with a firm nod.

Inara saw the confidence on the other woman’s face, the absolute certainty.  Zoe had thrown herself at the Reavers in a suicidal charge, but she was stronger than that.  It was hard to imagine, a woman so made of steel.  To have given her heart away entirely to Wash, to see him die...and still believe.

War changed people, Inara knew, but it had never changed her.  She had been far from the battles, far from the death, far from the reality.  She worked in a world of beauty, where she glimpsed at the burdens of others and offered a temporary solace, a short-lived respite.  In some ways, it was a beautiful denial, her world.  A construct of ideals and desires, framed with the knowledge that most things in life were never meant to last.

There was safety in that, because she would never hurt like Zoe was hurting now.  But the passion it took to really love, the freedom of finally letting go even if you didn’t know how it would end up...

Mal had to get it done.  Because he was Mal.  Stubborn and blind.  Self-sacrificial and a true survivor.  A man who loved fiercely and broke hard.

Inara never knew what to do with Mal, but for now, she had to trust he would come back and give her time to figure it out.

“Your arm,” she said, her attention fixed on Jayne again.  “Simon says to start you on some antibiotics.”

Jayne’s face twisted in something akin to juvenile indignation.  “Aw, don’ mess with it,” he griped, holding his arm even tighter.  “Don’t much care for it when the doc messes with me, and last I checked, you only service certain parts of the body.”

Inara’s lips tugged into a small smile.  “Such service you will never know,” she assured him.  “However, if you let me look at your arm, we may be able to ensure that at least some parts of your body will still be functioning when this is all said in done.”

Jayne’s face went pale.  “Now that just ain’t funny!” he exclaimed.

“Exactly,” Inara replied easily, taking his wrist in her hand.  “Now let me look.”

He complied, though his face still held a strong sense of distrust and apprehension.  The wound was small, but bloody.  From what she could tell, the bullet was still in him, nestled deep in the muscle of Jayne’s shoulder.

Antibiotics was certainly a must.  The saline, as well.  Inara didn’t exactly know how to identify shock, but given that the bullet was still embedded in the flesh, she could only figure Jayne was on his way there.  If she had any concept of how the drugs would interact, she would load him up on a painkiller as well, because it hurt just to look at it.

As it was, she opened Simon’s bag again, retrieving the antibiotic.  She loaded it more efficiently this time, moving to press it to Jayne’s neck.

He flinched.  “How can I trust that you know what you’re doin’?” he asked.

“If you would rather us do nothing, I can certainly allow you to succumb to infection,” Inara offered.

Jayne actually seemed to be considering it, which was the opportunity Inara needed to release the medicine.

“Hey!” Jayne yelped in protest.  “What the hell did you do that for?”

Inara was already loading the next vial.  “To save your life,” she said simply.

“What if I don’t want to be saved?” Jayne shot back.

Inara pursed her lips, regarding him coolly.  She worked hard to ignore the sounds from outside, tried not to think about one teenage girl against a hoard of Reavers, tried not to think about what it must be like to be eaten alive.

Instead, she kept her head high, eyes steady.  “Then you wouldn’t carry so many weapons,” she said simply.  “You know the time for giving up, and despite the current situation, you know this isn’t it.”

Jayne frowned.  “But--”

Inara rolled her eyes.  “Oh, shut up,” she muttered, injecting him with the second medicine.  “Now lie still and don’t make me sedate you.”

Jayne was gaping as Inara stood, moving quickly back toward Simon.  She heard Zoe chuckle, and felt confident her job there was done as best as it could be.

That was a good feeling, a sense of accomplishment.  Something that mattered.  When she got back to Simon, the smile on her face was genuine.  “Jayne is taken care of,” she reported dutifully.  “Zoe appears to be stable, just as you explained.”

Simon startled a little, as if he didn’t see her coming.  He blinked rapidly to compensate.  “Kaylee?” he asked hoarsely.

“Just fine,” Kaylee’s voice resounded softly over the melee.

Inara looked over, pleased to find the younger woman looking toward them.

Simon nodded, but his expression remained distant.  He swallowed with effort.  “River?”

Inara’s smile faded.  “Tell me what I can do for you,” she said.

Out of it as Simon was, he seemed to understand why she didn’t answer the question.  A flicker of despair passed over his features, and his head lolled to the side.

“Simon,” she said, leaning over him again.  She put a hand on his cheek.  “Simon, look at me.”

His eyes were unfocused now, staring at nothing even as Inara turned his face back toward her.

“Simon,” she tried again.  “Tell me what to do for you.”

His body was slowing down, his shaking easing, his panting softening.  She could only watch helplessly as his eyes blinked shut and stayed that way, a second before his body went completely limp.

“Simon,” she said again, almost begging him.  She tapped his cheek, then shook his arm.  He moved slightly, eyes fluttering as he moaned.  “Simon.”

The jostling had no effect.  Simon wasn’t quite unconscious, but he showed no response to her prodding.

That was like him, she thought.  To be damn arrogant and prideful, to save everyone else and then stop short of saving himself.

It was a loss she wasn’t ready for.  One she couldn’t yet accept.  Not on top of Book, not on top of Wash.

Inara believed that peace was a state of being, belief was an attribute of the soul.  She trusted in boundaries and measures, art and grace.

The world was a scary, dirty place, though, and no matter how many boundaries she put in place, no matter how much beauty she strove to create, in the end she was still left with the sense that maybe her life wasn’t complete yet, maybe she had not lived to the fullest extent she wanted.  In her effort to be safe, to believe in the greater good, she had resigned herself and the world to a pleasant mediocrity.

Because what was it to declare one’s love moments before a battle?  What was it to fight the good fight even when you’ve already lost what mattered most?  What was it to take a shot for someone else when all instincts screamed to live?  What was it to leave your crew in their hour of need because there was a purpose behind it all?

What was it to look your dying brother in the eye and sacrifice yourself on the outside chance you could save him?  What was it to save everyone around you but not be able to save yourself?

Inara didn’t work in the ways of love; she worked with spiritual healing.  She was no different than Simon Tam, touching and healing the lives around her without ever getting the chance to save herself.  Except when it came to passion, Simon had her beat.  Because he did not do it for an ideal.  He did not do it because it was all he knew to do.

He did it with passion.  He did it for River.  The last words on his lips were of her and for her, and that mattered.  To love so completely, to surrender so entirely.  The lesson the rest had learned and the one that had made Inara pack her bags and leave.

She always fancied herself the enlightened one.  Now, sitting amongst the dead and dying, listening to the falling of the light, Inara was not so sure.  She could not be sure about anything.

It was a mess.  It was a total and complete mess.  And for all Inara had done, everything she had strived to do, it was not enough.

It was not enough.

The what ifs were plentiful, rampant in her brain.  What would she do differently?  What things would she change?  What would she take back?  To save herself, to save her friends?  To spare herself this pain?

Maybe it was all futile.  Maybe the best they could hope for was pleasant mediocrity.  Maybe the Alliance was right, no matter what mistakes they’d made, no matter what Mal believed.

Maybe.  Maybe.

But she was in too deep to stake her life on a maybe.  She looked at Simon, pale and bleeding.  Kaylee, scared and weak.  Zoe, broken in mind and spirit.  Jayne, pained and determined.

A mess, true enough.

A tragedy, perhaps.

Beautiful, all the same.

Inara did not regret this.  She could not regret this.  Even if she drew her last breath, her only regret would be not sticking around to make sense of this to begin with.

Then, just like that, the door opened.

She looked up, surprised.  Mal was standing there, looking more than worse for wear.  But alive.  Victorious.

When the other doors opened, Inara was still reeling from the first shock so much, that she did not think to be scared, not until she saw the lone figure still standing.

River.

True, strong, real.  Her insanity was there, lurking beneath the surface, but for the first time since Inara met the girl, it was controlled.  She had conquered it, she had used it.  She accepted it, and she had overcome it.

If only Simon could see it.

The wall exploded behind River, crumbling into bright light, and when Inara saw the Alliance troops, she wondered if this was it.  To be so close, just to lose it now.  To have it all within her reach and still not get her second chance.

But it was a fate she could not control.  She no longer wished to.  River was alive--they were all still alive.  The loss of Wash and Book fresh, but not forgotten.  And Mal was here.

All in all, there were worse ways to go.

So Inara raised her hands, surrendering not just to the troops that were waiting for the order to kill, but to the long string of emotions and lapses in communications that had her here in the first place.  It had to be enough.  For all, of them, it had to be enough.