meridian_rose

 
Title: The Hour of Separation
Characters: River, Mal, Simon, Zoë, Kaylee, Jayne, Inara
Pairings: Mal/Inara, Kaylee/Simon
Wordcount: 2453
Prompt: For whedonland's end of phase challenge and 100_tales prompt #039 "Hours"
Disclaimer: not mine, not for profit
Warnings: Character death
Spoilers: Set post the BDM "Serenity"
Summary: Inara is dying. River observes the crew's reactions during this difficult time and does her best to help through them through it and beyond.

And ever has it been known that love knows not its own depth until the hour of separation. Kahlil Gibran

"You save her!" Mal shoved Simon, who stumbled in the dirt. "You save her!" He drew his fist back to punch the doctor again, but Zoë grabbed his arm.

"Sir," she said firmly.

While Zoë held on, making him pause, River kicked Mal from behind, sending him to his knees.

"Stop," River told him. She gestured to her brother, head cocked – are you all right? - and Simon nodded, though he rubbed at his bloodied lip, the souvenir of the punch that Mal had landed before the women had arrived to intervene.

Simon headed back towards the ship. He was doing what he could, but saving Inara wasn't possible. The drugs she'd been using to prolong her life no longer had any effect and now she was dying, her body breaking down. It was a matter of days – maybe just hours.

Mal stayed down, perhaps aware even through his rage that River wouldn't hesitate to incapacitate him if she thought it necessary. Zoë released him and turned away, looking over the sand dunes.

They were all silent a long moment, only the sound of the wind disturbing the peace. Serenity's engines were still. The desert was barren, desolate. It wasn’t helping anyone's mood.

"You have the chance to say goodbye," Zoë said at last. River felt her sadness. Wash had died suddenly, unexpectedly, unfairly.

Zoë didn't get the chance to tell him how much she loved him, how much she'd miss him. Zoë thought that Mal was lucky, to have that chance. River knew that Mal envied Zoë for not having to watch Wash die slowly, painfully.

Zoë went back to the ship. Mal ignored her.

"There's no good death," River said at last. "Better and worse ones, but not good."

Mal moved, but only from his knees to a sitting position, knees drawn up to his chin. He stared at the setting sun, blinking in the glare.

He didn't want to see Inara suffering. He didn't want to listen to Kaylee sobbing, giving vent to her feelings in a way he could not - would not - allow himself to do so. He didn't want to seem weak, River thought. Which was ridiculous, because they were family, and when you had family you could afford to be weak because you had someone to lean on.

Mal stayed out there until it got dark. River watched from a respectable distance, unwilling to leave him alone; he was in no state to deal with any danger that might present itself.

It was cold, and she was wearing only her flimsy blue dress and she was barefoot. She didn't mind the feel of the sand beneath her soles, but the wind tugged at her hair and licked its cold tongue behind her knees. So she calculated the number of grains of sand in the nearest sand dune to keep her mind occupied and distracted from her body. Mal was apparently unaware of the cold, but his mind was filled with anger and grief and not numbers.

Finally Kaylee came outside, grim determination on her face, and ordered him to go inside and eat dinner. Mal didn't argue.

He did go inside, and he did eat, though he took no pleasure in the food. Mechanically, River thought, watching him spear another forkful of potato (real potato and it deserved better than this unappreciated devouring) while still chewing his current mouthful. He was just eating for fuel.

He spent the night lying next to Inara. River spent it sitting in the pilot's chair, listening to the song of the stars in the wide open sky above them. Simon and Kaylee huddled together for comfort, while Jayne and Zoë played cards late into the night. Hardly anyone slept and none of them well.

***

The next day, Jayne went hunting. He said it was because he was tired of eating protein rations with the real vegetables when there were actual live creatures out there to be had. River knew that this was partly true. She also knew that he mostly just wanted to be off the ship.

Jayne didn't like being this close to the presence of death. He'd seen death, been the cause of plenty of it, but this was different. It wasn't quick, or honourable to his mind. It frightened him. River knew that he wasn't afraid to die, but he was afraid to suffer.

He brought back two rabbits and he and River prepared them outside the ship so that Kaylee wouldn't have to see the furry carcasses. That cute animals could taste good was a conundrum, River thought. Skinning them, making them not-cute-animal, was a form of distancing. Jayne refusing to go anywhere near Inara's shuttle was a form of distancing.

"Do you think we'll bury her here?" Jayne asked finally. He couldn't talk about it to Zoë, still grieving over Wash, nor the pompous doctor, nor Kaylee in case she started crying again, nor Mal, trapped in his anger and grief. But he could talk to the crazy girl and River was happy that he was willing to lean on her.

"Cremation is traditional for Buddhists," River said. Inara wasn't particularly devout but she followed certain of the tenets of Buddhism and it seemed likely she'd choose this form of funeral.

Jayne swallowed and looked around. After a while he frowned, and regained some of his normal composure as he asked, "Where the hell are we going to find enough wood for that?"

***

Kaylee stripped down parts of the engine that didn't usually get any attention. She was trying to do something positive during the downtime, tending to Serenity because there was nothing she could do for Inara.

That wasn't strictly true though. River knew that Kaylee had bathed Inara, had brushed the other woman's hair lovingly. And she knew Inara was grateful for those things.

It wasn't so much that Kaylee was taking it the hardest of them so much as she displayed her emotions more readily than anyone else on board.

"I wish Book were here," she confided to River, rubbing one grease-stained knuckle across her forehead. Then she got tearful as she said, "I wish Book were alive."

River didn't have the right comforting words to say, not the ones Book would have said, because it wasn't just about the words. It was the way in which he would have said them – with a faith she didn't share.

"Energy is neither created nor destroyed," River said. That was a scientific fact, not faith, and she felt safe offering this as a comforting thought. It wasn't that she didn't know if there was an afterlife, it was that she couldn't be certain of it that made her reluctant to make reference to it. But science she was certain of.

***

Simon sat in the infirmary. He looked over as River crept into the room.

"Hey, mei-mei," he said with a weak smile.

"You heard me," she said. "Getting better at being aware of your surroundings. Good."

He nodded. "Is it difficult, for you? The emotions on the ship? I mean, is it more difficult now, this situation?"

She shrugged. Difficult was not quantifiable.

"I know which feelings are mine and which aren't," she assured him. Before, when she was crazy, she hadn't – that was why she was crazy. Human emotions were powerful enough to deal with when they were your own, let alone someone else's. "I can block them, if I try."

Simon's mind snapped back to his current problem now that he'd done his brotherly duty and expressed concern.

"Better doctors than you have tried," River said and it was hurtful for him to hear but it was true. "Not your fault. She can't cheat death forever. The body isn't meant to endure in that state. Even stars must collapse in on themselves."

Simon swallowed hard. "I offered her – if she didn't want – "

River understood, of course. "She doesn't want to go quietly and immediately. She wants to hold on as long as possible, whatever it costs her. Every hour, every minute is precious to her."

He was a doctor. He was supposed to fix people, or at the least take away the pain. This was hard on him, too. But he'd be all right. He'd grieve and then he'd make love to Kaylee, and then he'd repair some stupid injury Jayne got, and he'd move on.

Mal wouldn't let go so easily.

***

River slipped into the shuttle. Mal was kneeling by Inara's bedside, holding one of her hands in both of his. He glanced over as River approached. He didn't move to dab at his damp eyes, figuring the mind-reader knew whatever he was feeling anyway.

"It won't be long now," River said softly. She reached out and stroked Inara's cheek with one finger.

Inara's eyes flickered open. "River," she breathed.

"I'll take care of him," River promised, eyes flickering to Mal and then back to Inara. "Cross my heart and hope to perish."

Inara nodded weakly. Her skin was pale now, with deep shadows under her eyes. She'd rapidly lost weight and her cheekbones were like knifes beneath the taut skin.

"Thank you," Inara said, and closed her eyes again.

River left the shuttle but she didn't go far. She could hear Mal's thoughts. The clean and concise version was that he was angry that he'd wasted so much time when he should have just told Inara how much he cared.

"I'd marry you, we had a Shepard on board," Mal said finally. "I'm a captain, but I'd also be the groom so I don't know if there's a conflict of interest, and there's a lot of paperwork besides, 'cause the Alliance loves paperwork…" he trailed off, and then said, "Assuming you'd marry me."

"Of course," Inara said. "You – only – had to – ask."

"Then by the power vested in me by virtue of the fact I am captain of a space faring vessel currently more than one days travel from a Central Planet, I now pronounce us husband and wife," Mal said. He leant over and kissed her.

A minute later, River padded along the corridors to find Simon.

"It's over," she said and, he breathed a sigh of relief. There was no shame in that. They would all grieve but first they'd all be thankful for a moment that Inara was no long suffering and that the tension they'd all been under was gone.

***

"Even the gorgeous royal chariots wear out; and indeed this body too wears out. But the teaching of goodness does not age; and so Goodness makes that known to the good ones," River intoned while Simon confirmed what everyone already knew.

Kaylee cut a lock of Inara's hair. It wasn't as thick and shiny as before her illness but it still gave Mal comfort to have it pressed into his palm. Lockets were traditional for such keepsakes, River thought, and wondered where they could get such an item so that Mal could keep the lock of hair close to his heart.

Meanwhile Zoë and Jayne rigged the funeral pyre with what wood they could find, and whatever junk they'd found lying around the ship, plus, from the smell of it, a liberal sprinkling of fuel.

***

Afterwards Mal insisted they gather up the ashes. He wanted to scatter them near the Companion Training House run by Sheydra, where Inara had been happy for a time. It was a lush, beautiful planet, better than this desert, he said, and no-one could argue with him about that.

The ship seemed emptier for lack of Inara's warm presence. The shuttle remained "Inara's shuttle". Sometimes Mal slept there, clutching the silk sheets that still held the scent of her perfume. Everyone knew this but no-one ever talked about it.

Book, Wash, Inara; they could never be replaced. But that didn't mean no-one else could join the crew. Serenity was meant to be lived in, and was happier when she had more people aboard her. River tried to explain this but everyone shut her off when she mentioned it. So she patiently waited for the exact right person at the right moment.

***

Three months later, River dragged a young Asian couple in front of Mal; a tall man with stubble, and a woman almost as tall as River with hair that was braided to her shoulders.

"They don't look like the supplies I told you to go get," Mal said ambivalently. He was stacking boxes, ready to get going once they were refuelled.

"They need to get off this planet," River said. When he hesitated, she said, "Trouble with the Alliance."

"I'm not sure about taking on passengers right now," Mal said. He'd lost so many people since the fateful day Simon Tam had boarded Serenity and was understandably wary. He was hurt but he hadn't fallen as badly as River had feared. Sometimes he got drunk, and sometimes he started a fight – but, as Zoë had observed dryly, it was hard to tell how that was different from not-grieving Mal.

"Zhang Hai is a chef," River said, knowing how much Mal would like to have someone on board able to cook worth a damn. "He'd do cooking and chores for passage."

"We both will," added the young woman. "And I sew. A little."

"What kind of trouble?" Mal asked, interested but not yet persuaded.

"They were forbidden to see each other. Cai Meilin's parents wanted her to marry a high-ranking Alliance official, not a chef." River made a sad face. The best part was that she only had to exaggerate a little. "They had to elope. And now they're afraid. It's not unknown for parents or slighted suitors to hire assassins to make the girl a widow to force her to complete the betrothal arrangements."

Because Mal was veering between being sceptical and being furious at this injustice, River searched her memories for an example and found a suitable one that included a military motif. "It happened to Amanda Garheart. Her lover was a salesman and he was mysteriously killed just before she was due to marry Admiral Edward Garheart."

Mal stared at the couple, sizing them up. He unconsciously fingered the locket that sat around his neck. He came to a decision.

"Yeah. Fine. Be nice to eat something don't look like something else ate it first and spat it back out. But they're not staying. We’ll drop them off at the first place I think they'll be safe," Mal said. It was already a lie, but he needed the illusion that he was in sole charge of the ship so River just smiled.

"Whatever you say, Captain."

Life went on.