Inara had told Mal that the next time she knew something about his mother she'd give him fair warning.

And she hadn't, not this time, not dealing with this. But it was something bigger than a surgery, bigger than Inara and Sallie themselves. This was between Mal and his father. It didn't stop her from feeling vaguely worried though.

Sick to her stomach worried. Not just about him being mad at her, but about him accepting a job with his father. For his father. Sick to her stomach worried for his mother.

She finds him on the catwalk outside her shuttle, sitting with his legs dangled over the edge. Her bracelets jingle as she slides a hand across his back and moves to sit next to him. "Mal?"

Later, she wouldn't be able to remember how she knew, or why she felt something was wrong...all that mattered to her was that she did. Inara Serra walked down the hall of House Madrassa, trying to figure out the cause of her uneasiness.

It didn't take long for her to notice what was wrong. A thump came from a girl's room--a friend. A woman named Rhea, someone Inara had known for a long time. The neighboring door opened a fraction and a tow-headed, wide-eyed girl poked her head out. "Inara."

"Lacie." Inara said sharply, gesturing at Rhea's door. "Is she--"

"I heard shouting." The girl whispered, shaking her head. "I was going to call someone but then I heard you walking around and I figured maybe...you were the person I was going to call, anyway."

Inara pushed Lacie back into her room. "Don't come out until I tell you." Shutting the door quietly, Inara quickly overrid Rhea's door and stepped in. Nausea overswept her as her worst nightmare was true.

The man Rhea had chosen to entertain tonight had turned out to be the worst sort of man, the one they were supposed to be safe from. But high-paying costumers are sometimes the worst, thinking they're God's given gift to womankind. Rhea lay under him, bleeding from her nose as if he'd hit her, and nothing in Inara felt like he hadn't. His hands were hard against Rhea's wrists and every time she struggled, he pushed her down against the floor harder.

Inara grabbed the closest object -- a vase, ornate and lovely -- and hit him over the head with it. As soon as he went down, she grabbed Rhea in her arms. "Xin gan, are you okay? How badly does it hu--"

She was cut off as the man, no longer down on the ground, wound a hand in her hair, growling at her. Telling her to let him have his whore, to stay out of the way or she'd get what was coming to her. He tossed to her to the side and went back of Rhea, the redheaded woman shaking her head and sobbing, begging him to please just let them go.

Inara saw it and knew what to do with it -- she was weapons trained...they all were. But she'd never had to fire at a customer (or anyone for that matter) before and the idea made her queasy. Glancing at Rhea's panicked face, she knew what made her queasier, and reached for the man's fallen sidearm that lay on the floor.

She didn't remember squeezing the trigger. But she remembered the sound the gun made, the screech Rhea made as he went limp on top of her. She remembers the heavy heart she has when she knows her time is finished here. No, they'd keep her, they'd not make her leave because of this (she is not her mother, she is not her mother, no one is forcing her out of a job) but Inara thought...Inara knew she just...had to get out now.

Based on this. Blame Mu Ji.


Inara sat on an examining table in a place that looked nothing like Serenity's medical bay...yet she knew she was still on the ship. Monitors beeped and she was in a hospital gown, her hair pulled up on top of her head.

Someone cleared their throat as they walked in. She knew it was Simon...even though she couldn't see his face from behind his surgical mask and he was wearing a lab coat. It seemed...out of place to her. "Well," He said, rubbing the back of his head. "The results are in. Now, we just have to wait to see where the baby is going to try to come out. Hopefully...hopefully it decides to come out the normal way. I mean, fighting gravity to orally give birth is hard so--"

Inara stared at him. "What."

"Well, before the second trimester, the fetus hasn't decided which way to come out yet. Until it plants itself somewhere, we won't know--"

"What!" Inara blinked. Something was not right here. That's not how babies work! And since when was she pregnant anyway? "I'm not...what?! Qù tāmāde!"

"What language!" The Maybe-Simon-Doctor said, appalled.

Inara buried her head in her hands and---


Woke up with a start, next to Mal, in her shuttle on Serenity. Simon was with Kaylee, in their new home...not here...not telling her she might "orally deliver her baby" or some other...absolute gŏu pì. She sighed and slumped back against the pillows.

Okay. Okay just a weird, horribly strange dream. She'd think about it tomorrow.

Inara had an itch to talk to her husband. This time, it had nothing to do with Kaylee or anyone else...it was just about her. About them.

Of course, she had issues with coming up with how to say it. Any of it. Especially without making him feel like she was unhappy. She wasn't.

Too much.

She found him in the cockpit, and after a moment's hesitation, she cleared her throat. "Can you leave the ship alone for a few minutes to talk?"

Inara walks into the kitchen, her hands on her hips as she stares at her husband, trying to force the words to come out.

"I just need to say something, okay? And then I'll be done with it and we can move on and talk about anything else, okay?"

Inara sweeps her hair over her shoulder and yawns before looking at Mal, asleep beside her. It's a lazy start to the morning, and as she takes in her husband's features, she finds that she doesn't really mind.

She curls against him, dancing fingers over his neck and jawline. Wakey wakey.