Inara woke the next morning and lay in bed with a sinking feeling in her chest. Kaylee and her party had quite effectively reminded her that life on Serenity included more than just Mal. But the thought of going back to the constant sniping, the cold shoulder, was almost more than she could face.

They had come too far for that.

Mal ate his breakfast early and cleared out of the kitchen. He recruited Jayne and dragged him down to the cargo hold, where they spent most of the day emptying out the various smuggler's hidey-holes and sorting through the contents.

Over the years, they had accumulated a variety of odds and ends, leftovers from various jobs or items picked up when the picking was good. And Kaylee, it turned out, had a stash of spare engine parts tucked away in one of the compartments. A quick glance showed at least two catalysers among the collection. All the more reason to take an inventory of what they had and store it so's they'd be able to find it again when they wanted it.

It was dirty, sweaty work, but Mal felt better for being able to burn off some energy. At the very least, he thought, it might save him from another sleepless night.

"Kaylee, you come on down to the cargo-"

Kaylee turned as Mal came into the engine room, marched right up to him and punched him in the arm.

"Hey!"

"What is wrong with you?"

"I could ask you the same-"

Kaylee punched him again.

Mal let his playful mask slip off in the face of Kaylee's very real anger. "Kaylee, this ain't none of your business."

"You had no call to talk to her like that."

"What did I just say?"

"This ain't playin' no more, Cap'n. She's family. And we don't got so much family left that you can be drivin' the rest of it away."

Mal sighed. He did not want to be having this conversation. "She ain't family, Kaylee."

"How can you say that? You know she loves us. Loves you."

"I ain't denyin' that. But she don't belong here."

"Of course she belongs here. Serenity is her home."

"Is it? What happens when she gets tired of playin' the thief? Tired of protein strips, and backwater bars, and bein' cold all the time? This ain't her world, and one day she's gonna leave and she ain't gonna come back. Best you get used to that idea right now."

The crew had rearranged the rota of chores when Inara left for the training house. Easier to do, she supposed, when they knew how long she'd be gone, and easier to face when they knew she'd be coming back.

Still, it stung just a little.

And until they could sit down and rearrange it once again, she was at rather loose ends with her time.

She lingered in her shuttle, unpacking, tidying, organizing, but her heart wasn't really in it. Serenity wasn't feeling much like home just at the moment. In the end, Inara left the mess where it was and went in search of Zoe. There was plenty to do, she figured, in the wake of a seven-month-old child.

Mal let Jayne take his turn in the shower first. It was getting close on supper time, and Jayne was getting antsy. For himself, Mal didn't care so much about making it to dinner on time.

By the time he got himself washed and dressed and up to the kitchen, the others were already seated at the table and eating. He dug a smile up from somewhere and returned the greetings from Simon and River, ignoring both Kaylee's glare and Zoe's raised eyebrow.

Inara never lifted her attention from Grace who was sitting in her lap and reaching with great determination for the contents of Inara's plate.

Mal filled his own plate, snagged a pair of chopsticks, and headed for the quiet of the bridge.

Conversation around the table was particularly boisterous that night. In part, Inara was certain, to make up for Mal's continued absence.

It took all her willpower not to get up and follow him to the bridge. She wanted to shake him. She wanted to scream. But she knew it would only make things worse.

She did her best to swallow her anger and her frustration instead. It didn't leave her with much of an appetite for food. She kept Grace entertained through dinner, allowing Zoe to eat, and excused herself before anyone could notice she hadn't touched her own plate.

Mal heard the chatter in the kitchen grow quiet, heard the footsteps on metal grating as the crew dispersed for the evening.

He didn't hear River as she crept in until she settled into the co-pilot's chair across from him. She didn't say anything, just checked her screens and readouts, then curled up in the chair with her knees drawn up, watching the stars.

"You sure you want to sit here with an old grump like me?"

She looked over at him, but her face didn't hold the smile he was expecting. "I can take it."

Mal dragged himself up out of his quarters at an ungodly hour after another night of tossing and turning.

It was early enough, though, that he could linger over his coffee in the kitchen while he tried to work out what needed doing for the day. He had planned to drag Kaylee down to inspect various bits of Serenity's innards that didn't often see the light of day. He suspected now, though, that an entire day in a confined space with Kaylee would lead to more arguing than he really wanted to deal with.

And it didn't seem fair to subject River to any more of his foul mood, either. No one should be forced to listen to the garbage in his head just now, least of all her.

So when he heard the rest of the crew beginning to stir, he took the dregs of his coffee and headed back down to the depths of the cargo hold.

Zoe found him in the afternoon, moving a stack of crates from one corner of the cargo hold to another for no reason that she could fathom. She settled in, lounging against one of the crates he hadn't moved yet, long legs crossed at the ankle.

"Don't," he said, without looking at her.

"I didn't say anything."

"You were thinking it."

"We're all thinking it."

"Zoe…" There was warning in his tone.

Zoe lapsed into silence, but she stayed where she was and just kept watching him. He managed five whole minutes before he finally put down his crate and turned to face her.

"Fine. Say it."

"You really gonna live like this? Hiding in the cargo hold?"

"This ain't hiding. This is working."

"If you say so, sir."

"I do say so."

He went back to his crates. Again, Zoe simply sat and watched him in silence. This time when he stopped he didn't look up. Just leaned against the crate in front of him, waiting. He looked tired and defeated, and Zoe's heart ached for him.

"I know," she said.

He shook his head slowly. "It ain't the same thing."

"It could be."

Mal was silent a long time. When he finally turned back to the crates and started working, she slipped off her perch and left him to it.

Two days. Serenity had never felt so gorramn small. He had hoped that with a little time, a little space, things would get easier. But there was no space, and too much time. And he felt like an intruder on his own gorramn ship.

The cheerful voices coming from the kitchen at dinnertime grated on his nerves. He turned, coming out of the bridge and headed down the forward stairs to avoid the noise. A shower, he decided, and then bed. And maybe by morning he'd be able to face another day.

He made it as far as the first landing before stumbling to a halt. Inara was below him on the catwalk, pacing quietly in the shadows with Grace in her arms. The baby was tucked against her shoulder, almost asleep, but still letting out the occasional hiccoughing cry. Inara rocked her gently and her slow, steady pacing never paused.

Mal wasn't sure how long he watched her, twisting the knife in his own heart, before she noticed him. She stopped, suddenly awkward, looking up at him.

"She's teething."

He nodded. "I'll, um…" He turned and walked slowly back up the stairs.

Mal sat in the kitchen in the middle of the night, alone. The coffee pot was slowly cooling on the burner, but the tin mug at his elbow held something stronger.

He drank in slow, burning sips. Part of him was waiting for her. The rest of him knew she wasn't coming.

He reached the bottom of his mug, contemplated refilling it. Instead, he pushed the jug aside, stood, left the kitchen.

He knocked on the shuttle door until she answered. It didn't take as long as he would have thought. He wondered if she had been sitting up awake as well.

He could read the worry in her eyes as she shoved the door back.

"What's wrong? Is Grace…?" She trailed off as she met his gaze.

He had no idea what to say to her, but just looking at her eased the knot in his chest that had been growing tighter for four months. He couldn't take his eyes off her.

She stiffened under his scrutiny, pulled up her shawl where it was sliding off her shoulder. "Can I help you with something, Captain?"

He was surprised at how much that hurt, despite his alcoholic insulation. But, all of a sudden, he knew what it was he had to say.

"I'm sorry."

He could feel the breath, feel the fight go out of her all at once. He'd surprised her. She dropped her gaze, but she didn't turn away.

Inara had to look away as she tried to gather her thoughts. Her anger had deserted her and she felt oddly at sea under his steady gaze. And her heart started thumping, making it even harder to think.

He seemed to be waiting for a response, but for once she had no idea what to say to him. And if he didn't stop looking at her like that, she would never be able to put a sentence together.

"I'm sorry," he said again.

She still hadn't spoken, hadn't looked up. He couldn't resist any longer; he reached out, brushed her arm with the tips of his fingers. The goosebumps spoke for her.

He took a step forward.

She could smell the alcohol on him as he stepped in close. Liquid courage. She knew she should push him away. But her heart hammering in her ears drowned out the words. She raised her hands between them, but they tangled in the fabric of his shirt instead, holding him in place.

He waited until she lifted her gaze to meet his.

"I'm sorry."

She could only nod.

And then his mouth closed on hers.

She held on with both hands, fingers knotting in his shirt until she could feel one of the buttons give way – there would be no pulling back this time. And from the way he pressed against her, Mal seemed to agree. One of his hands tangled in her hair, the other slid down her back, pulling her closer.

He kissed her. And the tension of two awful days and four lonely months burned away with the heat of it. And she finally felt like she could breathe again, even as she was gasping for air.

He backed her into the shuttle, shoving the door shut behind him.

Inara came awake sometime in the night, freezing cold. The blankets were tangled around her feet and Mal was sprawled naked by her side. He slept on his stomach like a child, and one outflung arm was draped across her waist. The dead weight of it as it pinned her to the bed told her how deeply he was sleeping.

She squirmed a little, trying to get hold of the blankets without dislodging Mal's arm. She had worked them up as far as her knees when Mal stirred beside her.

"Nn…"

She stilled, resting a hand lightly on his arm. "Shh. I'm just cold. Go back to sleep."

He couldn't quite get his eyes open, but he shifted position onto his side, movements thick and clumsy, and removed the arm from her waist to fumble for the blankets. She shivered as the one point of warmth on her body went with it. She felt suddenly naked and oddly bereft.

After a moment of fumbling, he got the blankets mostly up and over the both of them.

"Mmhh..?"

"Much better, thank you."

Warmer, but fighting an unreasonable disappointment, Inara curled up on her side and tried to settle back to sleep.

Mal shifted again behind her and Inara stifled a squawk of surprise as his hand returned to her waist, this time taking a rough grip and pulling her inexorably across the sheets toward him. He tucked his arm more securely around her, his face nestled into the nape of her neck, and then his body grew heavy with sleep once again.

She squirmed once more, this time to free the blanket that was trapped between their bodies. Skin to skin, she followed him into sleep.