Chapter Text
Inara's long-term client Tobias adjusted the terms of their contract the month after she turned sixty six. It felt reasonable. His daughter had just given birth to her first child, and while Inara was on good terms with his whole family, she wasn't stand in grandmother material and she knew it. Tobias lowered the time he expected to spend with Inara and told her that while he wanted to focus on his family, he would still like to see her when he was traveling for business. She accepted it without any complaints whatsoever. The terms were agreeable, and she had been floating the idea of discussing a break for a while. Sometimes she wanted to have a moment of being herself, away from clients. The feeling came more often as she grew older. She was good at the gracious smiles, and gave one to Tobias in his sitting room as he nervously explained his plans to her with a tone of voice that told her he was expecting her to cry.
She didn't want to break out the big guns and cry on command, so she settled for leaning into how endearing it was that he wanted to be an active grandfather, peppered with a few comments about how she would miss spending most of her time with him. She did like Tobias. She liked him quite a lot; she would not have spent two years as his near-constant partner if she didn't like him, after all, but there were things she wanted to do on her own, and taking Mal up on his open invitation to visit his ranch was one of them.
She sent a message to the K64 Ranch on Haven (listed as a certified organic and cruelty free ranch on every registry Inara could find—likely due to Mal's spouse's efforts, because getting on registries didn't sound like a Malcolm Reynolds priority) that she was interested in a long term visit. She received a quick what is your arrival date in response and once she replied with a long spiel about how difficult it was to get to Haven still and the date she estimated she'd be touching down, she just got a thumbs up emoticon and an assurance that no matter when, she would be welcome.
someone is always at the house, the final message read. Inara figured that was as much planning as she was going to get.
Once the details of the contract were hammered out, Tobias left Inara on Beaumonde at a high-end port, and he looked nervous and guilty. She just smiled and tried to assuage his worries.
"We've spent quite a lot of time together," she said. "And I know it's going to be hard to wake up and not see me immediately…just force of habit. But it will be good for you to be so involved with Abram's early childhood."
"And you'll be okay?" Tobias asked. Inara laughed gently.
"Of course I will be. I have friends all across the 'Verse and plenty of funds, Tobias."
"Oh, yes, yes," he said. "But traveling alone, Inara? You'll be fine?"
"When I was a young woman, I rented a shuttle on a smuggler's ship," she told him, putting on the theatrical tone that usually got Core folks gasping. "I visited Whitefall back in the early 2510s, actually, did I ever say that?"
"Oh, lord, and you're alive! You must know what you're doing," Tobias said with a laugh.
"I'm always happy to spend time on the Rim," Inara reminded him.
"Of course, of course. So. As I leave you, sweetheart, I want to give you a few little things."
The little things turned out to be a nominal sum, a stunning pearl necklace in perfectly gradated shades of pink, and a "ticket to anywhere".
"I assume you'll be heading back to Sihnon—"
"I'll go back to Haven, actually," Inara interrupted. "I have something I want to do over there."
"On Haven?" Tobias snorted. "You have business with a mine or a cattle ranch?"
"Cattle business," Inara confirmed. It wasn't entirely untrue. "And a bit of sightseeing."
"Don't be trash talking me over there," Tobias joked, but there was something in his voice that said he truly meant it and was nervous about it. Inara pulled him into an embrace.
"Why would I? Everyone knows you just want the best for the mining industry's future there, and how could they say a bad word when you've been so sweet to me and are leaving to spend time with your grandson? Everyone on Haven knows you're a good man."
She wasn't sure they did. But he didn't need to know that.
Tobias paid for her ticket on a top of the line cruiser to Beaumonde, and then she took a high speed transport to Deadwood and a little commuter shuttle to Haven. The docks on Haven had always been unusually robust, but these days they were a well-oiled machine. The last time she'd been on-planet, she'd been on Tobias's private craft and had adjusted her expectations to what he wanted, but now, seeing the efficiency with the commercial flights, Inara had to admit she was impressed.
She found herself with two trunks of her things at the docks, with most of her things in a storage unit on Sihnon, safely paid-for and secure. She was in no real rush—where was she expected to be? There were motorized rickshaws for hire at the Haven docks, and Inara waited for those who were on business trips to rent drivers first before she approached the hub and was soon waved over by a young woman smoking a cigarette.
"Ma'am, you lookin' for a good safe ride to anywhere in town? I've got the best—"
"I'm visiting someone," Inara said as she moved towards the driver. "Mr. Reynolds at the K64 ranch—"
"Oh, sure," said the young woman, her sales pitch dropping immediately. "I know him."
She slid out of her driver's seat and hefted Inara's trunks onto the back of her rickshaw before offering an arm and helping Inara herself into the back seat of the tiny vehicle.
"You lookin' to buy?" The woman asked as she started the engine.
"Hm?"
"From the ranch."
"Oh, no, I'm not a cattle rancher."
"Sure, but he's got horses too. I could figure you an equestrienne."
"Mr. Reynolds is an old friend," Inara revealed.
"Oh! From his flying days?"
"Yes, exactly," Inara said, and her driver glanced back for a moment.
"Good lord, I'd heard that he'd met folks from all over the 'Verse, but I guess I never thought about it all that much."
"You know him well, then?" Inara asked as they left the busiest streets and picked up speed.
"Well…I think everyone on that side of town knows the Reynoldses but my brother works for the ranch and they take good care of him over there."
The streets of Haven's largest city soon gave way to dirt roads, but the driver was not overselling any skills, and she avoided the majority of ruts and potholes. They were on the road for just a few minutes before the butter yellow ranch house and the aged wood stable beside it appeared on the horizon. As they approached, Inara surveyed the fields on both sides of the road, full of cattle and the forage they were chewing, as well as the far-off shape of a Firefly half hidden by a hill.
"You probably saw that thing when it was spaceworthy," the driver commented when she saw Inara looking.
"I flew on it," Inara told her. "I rented one of the shuttles and it was my home."
"Cái bù shi! You flew all over the place, then?"
"All throughout the 'Verse," Inara confirmed.
"I've only been to Beaumonde," the driver said. "I'm saving up to go to school there in a year."
As they got closer to the house, Inara could see that Mal was standing on the porch, a monocular pressed to his good eye. He waved as soon as he could tell she was looking at him. The rickshaw pulled right up to the porch steps and Mal slowly made his way down to meet them.
"You're Douglas's sister," he said when the driver hopped out to start unloading. "Linney, right?"
"Yes, sir."
"How's that school fund?"
"Fillin' up a little each day."
"Good to hear. Let's get these bags sorted."
Inara opened one of her trunks as soon as it was off the vehicle and dug through her purchases from the duty-free shop in the Beaumonde port until she found the blue and gold carton of cigarettes and opened it while Linney and Mal unloaded the rest of her bags onto Mal's porch. Once Linney was done, Inara pressed a pack into her hand.
"A whole pack?" The girl asked, flabbergasted. Inara shrugged.
"You smoke."
"Sure, but—"
"You ever met a Companion before?" Inara asked as she leafed through the credit notes in her wallet and counted out a generous tip along with the fare, letting herself indulge in the intrigue and mystique and fantasy like she had all those years ago in a sheriff's station on Regina.
"No, ma'am."
"Well, now you have. And now you know what sort of standard you should expect when you interact with one. Do you understand?"
"Yes, ma'am."
"Don't ever let one short change you," Inara told her as she handed over the cash. "Tell them Inara Serra gave you a tip and a pack of cigarettes and you know your worth."
"Yes, ma'am. Thank you."
They watched as Linney and her motorized rickshaw disappeared back down the road.
"Still got that dramatic flair," Mal commented. "I remember that well."
"You're one to talk about being dramatic," Inara teased, and he grinned at her.
"Well. Welcome to my home, Inara. Let's get your things inside." He propped the front door open and started sliding her bags into the house. He was wearing a different eyepatch than the one he'd had on during their chance encounter half a year earlier. This one was embossed with a compass rose. He saw she was looking.
"Nice, ain't it?"
"Very. Last time I saw you, you had on one with stars on it."
"I switch it up. River makes 'em and I get one every Christmas, so I've got a selection. Ah…you alright with stairs?"
"Yes, I can still do stairs," Inara confirmed, and he nodded.
"Libby!" Mal hollered back into the house. "I need another set of hands!"
"Coming!"
There was a noise elsewhere in the house and then someone was thundering down a staircase somewhere towards the back of the building. Inara prepared herself to meet Mrs. Reynolds, but when Libby came into view, she didn't think that was who this woman was; she was younger than Inara would have expected Mal's wife to be, and she looked oddly familiar.
"Looks just like her mama, don't she?" Mal said. "It's like Wash's genes didn't even put up a fight."
"You're a Washburne?" Inara asked, and Libby grinned.
"Sure am! It's nice to finally meet you, Miss Serra. I've heard a lot about you."
"Please—call me Inara."
"Okay! Let me take care of these bags, then, Inara."
"We'll put her upstairs, Libby," Mal told her. "Gotta show off that room with the view of the fields."
"Sure thing, Uncle." She lifted one of Inara's trunks with ease and hefted it towards the stairs.
"Libby runs a lot of the logistics for the ranch," Mal said as he and Inara got the rest of her luggage inside. "Her office is in the upstairs front so she can see folks coming and going. She saw the rickshaw." Mal shouldered the smallest bag. "Come on, I'll show you the guest room."
He was limping, though Inara assumed it was something permanent rather than a recent temporary injury. She remembered he'd said that the grenade that had taken his eye had also sent shrapnel through a leg. He maneuvered upstairs slowly but made no complaints, and Libby squeezed past them on her way back down to finish up moving Inara in.
The guest room was at the back of the house, right up next to the staircase and down the hall from Libby's office. It was cozy and bright, with a braided rag rug, a bed covered in a quilt and patchwork pillows, a worn-looking dresser with a mirror on it, and an enormous window that offered a stunning view of fields and forests as far as the eye could see.
"Not exactly your style of décor, I know," Mal said. "Just stuff that we've collected over the years."
"It's sweet," Inara told him. "Lived in."
"Mhm. Bathroom's next door and the linen closet is across the hall," Mal said. "And you let me know if you need anything while you're staying. It should be warm enough, but if it isn't, just say the word. I'll be downstairs, but just…take your time to settle in and unpack. Take a nap, if you like."
Libby had Inara's things in the guest room in two more trips up the stairs after Mal left.
"You need anything else right now?" She asked after she settled the trunk where Inara requested it.
"Nothing comes to mind," Inara said. "Thank you so much, Libby."
"Yeah, no problem at all, Inara. I'll be working just down the hall if you need me."
Inara let herself take a break for a minute before unpacking. She sat on the bed for a minute and stared out the window. She couldn't see Serenity from this angle, but she could see a few cows.
It seemed like the room had not been used in a while, if the calendar displaying June of the previous year on the wall was anything to go by. She knew that Mal had said the house was big in order to accommodate visitors, but based on the fact he'd asked her about the stairs meant there were probably rooms on the ground floor that were used more often. She got up and set about unpacking enough for a shower and the rest of the day.
Once she was clean and felt refreshed, Inara put on some loungewear and a quilted jacket and made her way back downstairs, where Mal was sitting at his dining table, poring over stacks of papers and a Cortex tablet.
"Everything to your standards?"
"Better than, and now I feel more like myself," she agreed. "You have a lovely place."
"Yeah, it ain't bad at all."
"You look busy."
"Business is all by the books now," Mal told her. "Which means more paperwork than you can imagine. Well. Maybe you can imagine. Must be a lot of paper in Companioning."
"There is," Inara confirmed. "I just had to file an updated long term contract with Tobias and there was quite a bit of paper involved for something purported to be done all on tablets these days."
Mal nodded and stretched his shoulders with a groan.
"Can I get you a drink?" He asked.
"I'd love a drink."
He stood and made his way to one of the kitchen cabinets.
"I can get you uh…well, we have a lot of gin, and then there's a few herbal things…I can mix you up something we drink a lot, if you ain't picky."
"Well, then I won't be picky. Bartender's choice."
Mal brought out the bottles and Inara glanced around the kitchen and dining area. The table was big; maybe a dozen people could eat there if they squeezed in close together. Only one corner was clear of papers and had two placemats, so it seemed like big group dinners were fairly infrequent, or at least one hadn't happened recently. There was a corkboard on the wall beside the breakfast bar and Inara studied it for a moment. It held mostly no-nonsense papers: a tiny calendar that likely came free from a grocery store, a flyer about upcoming local elections, a business card for an electrician, and a list of cattle identification numbers that were labeled keep an eye on. Aside from the business-related items, there was a photo of Libby and a man who must have been her brother, another photo of a group of children, a postcard from Dyton, a memorial card for a twenty eight year old man named Joshua Weatherford, and two gold rings tied with a leather cord and pinned to the cork with a pearl-headed pin. Inara brushed one finger over them.
"Your rings are on the bulletin board, I see. You two don't wear them?"
"Nah. We tried for a little while, but they get in the way of work. Catching on fence wires and gun parts. Could be dangerous. And with all the handwashing for a doctor it's just a pain with the on and off over and over."
"Your wife is a doctor?"
Mal stared at her.
"We talked about Simon at the diner; don't tell me you forgot about him already."
"Simon? You married Simon?"
"Yes?"
"You certainly didn't mention that part of being married."
"Oh. Well. Now I did," Mal said with a shrug.
Inara could think of no better course of action than to stare at him. Thankfully, he was still the sort of man who buckled under the weight of her stare.
"Who else was I going to trust enough for havin' and holdin'?" He sputtered. "Who was he going to trust enough for that? There was hardly anyone else in the whole 'verse who would understand—"
"But Kaylee—"
But Kaylee, right? Kaylee had carried a torch for Simon for as long as Inara had known both of them, with fumbles and life-threatening whirlwinds having practically no impact on her crush. While the relationship had never gotten off the ground while Inara had been on board Serenity, she’d felt that it would progress, eventually…if Simon ever managed to learn how to talk.
"Oh, that's decades gone," Mal said with a wave of his hand. "Feelings change and people grow and she's got River and their kids now.”
“River?”
“Besides, Kaylee don't wear her ring either," Mal told her defensively, bulldozing through her shock entirely. He seemed to be under the impression she was more surprised that he and Simon didn't wear their rings rather than that he and Simon were married to each other in the first place. "She's got a little rubber one so she don't tear the skin off her hand when she's working.”
Inara didn't know what to say, so she just sat at the breakfast bar and watched Mal finish mixing her drink.
"And there you are. It uh…doesn't have a name, I don't think. Hope you like it."
Inara comforted herself by remembering that she and Simon had had similar taste in drinks during the time they'd known each other and that if he drank this often, she would probably like it.
Similar taste in men, too, her brain provided. She shut it up by taking a sip. It was good. Earthy and herby and a little bit sweet.
"It's very good," she told him, and he grinned at her.
"Simon will love to hear it. You two can come up with a name for it, maybe."
The Cortex tablet made a noise and Mal hurried around the breakfast bar to check on it.
"Speak of the devil; Simon's on his way home. And I oughta get the kettle full. He's going to need some tea; sounds like it was a bad day at the clinic."
After he did so, he looked at Inara. She looked back at him.
"Do you want to hear my banjo playing?" He asked finally. She laughed.
"Sure!"
So Inara spent the next twenty minutes listening to Malcolm Reynolds carefully strum out tunes that she half-remembered from bonfire dances long ago. He took a moment to put the kettle on and another to make her a second cocktail, but otherwise kept playing, and Inara let herself sink into the warm blanket of having a good drink and listening to a man she loved dearly play music for her. Soon enough, there was the sound of an engine outside, and then someone was walking up the steps to the front door. Inara was unencumbered by a banjo and closer to the door, so she went to open it.
"Hi, Inara."
"Hello, Simon."
He made a quickly aborted movement with his hands that was clearly the beginning of asking to hug her, so she took a step forwards and wrapped her arms around him. He sagged a little in her embrace before squeezing her to him.
"Inara I'm so glad you decided to visit," he mumbled. "It's been far too long."
"I'm glad to be here," she said. They stood there for a moment before she pulled back to let him come inside.
While the brocade vest had been swapped for a thick cable-knit cardigan, Simon somehow looked more the same than Mal did. His hair was still more black than white, and he had managed to cling to the aristocratic tilt of his head despite what must have been at least a quarter century as a rancher's husband. There was a smear of dried blood by his ear and he looked exhausted.
"What was it?" Mal asked as Simon toed off his shoes.
"Mack Neumann caught in a brush hog."
"He okay?"
"Couldn't save the tips of these fingers," Simon said wearily, holding up his left ring and pinkie once he was in Mal's view before he ducked into the hallway bathroom. "But otherwise he'll be fine."
"Ah, men have lived full lives with less," Mal said as he put his instrument back onto its stand.
"Your banjo playing is sounding great, by the way," Inara told him.
"He's making me do it."
"Learning a musical instrument is good for you," Simon called from the hallway as he reemerged from the bathroom, now sans dried blood streak. "It keeps the mind elastic."
"What's that about plastic?"
"I said it keeps your mind elastic, which is all selfishly for my own benefit, since I'm the one who will be taking care of you when you inevitably go senile."
"Whatever. He's used to taking care of crazy folk."
"Rude," Simon muttered, but Mal didn't seem to register it, and returned to his seat at the dining table. Simon met Inara in the hallway and must have registered her confused look.
"His hearing isn't exactly what it used to be," Simon explained. "He pretends otherwise, and he's good at faking it, but you can imagine the sort of toll the constant shootouts took on him. He just thinks since Zoe's deaf now and he isn't, he must be fine."
"So just…keep my voice clear and a little louder than usual?"
"That should do it. And if you're having a conversation face to face, he's probably also reading your lips. Just don't bring attention to it. And speaking slower won't help. He still thinks he's forty."
While they were still in the hallway, Libby made her way downstairs.
"Hi Uncle Simon! Long day, looks like."
"You know the Neumanns?"
"Sure do," she said. "Dad says that they don't keep their machinery up to standards."
"Your dad is right," Simon told her. "I just had to get Mack's arms back onto his torso."
Libby gagged.
"He's okay?"
"He's fine, Libby. But it wasn't pretty. You can go ahead and tell folks they need to keep up with maintenance on their gear."
"Tell them they should call Auntie Kaylee?"
"Well…don't be so obvious about it," Simon told her. "But it can't hurt."
When they made it into the kitchen, Mal had a mug of tea ready for Simon, who took it gratefully.
"I didn’t really plan for dinner," Mal admitted as Simon took a moment to relax. "We have stuff to cook, sure, but…what do you think would be a good pick?"
"There's beef cuts," Simon said thoughtfully. "And plenty of canned things…"
Inara was distracted by the sudden far off roar of a ship in atmo and she could tell Simon was alarmed as well. As it grew louder a few seconds later, Mal noticed it too.
"Hear that?" He asked Simon, pointing vaguely at the ceiling. "Alliance patrol, finally come to take you off my hands."
"Oh, they'll take us all in," Simon joked. It must have been an ordinary flyover or maybe an off-schedule landing, if they didn't seem worried about it, but when the noise grew even louder, Mal's head snapped towards the side door and he started for the porch.
"What in the hell is that—"
"Mal, you're going to fall off the porch."
"I ain't gonna fall off the porch."
"Mal—"
"I'll keep an eye on him, Uncle Simon," Libby promised.
Libby and Inara made it outside in time to watch a craft fly alarmingly low over the fields. Mal already had his monocular in his hand and was fixated on it.
"That's the water plant inspector heading for Steeplanding," came a woman's voice from somewhere to the right of them, on the yard. Inara jumped, but Mal didn't seem worried so she didn't feel the need to panic.
"Huh. Finally they stop sittin' on their thumbs and check that place," he muttered instead.
"They'll clear it without even looking over anything," the woman replied. Inara turned to see a middle-aged woman in a dark purple coat, her brown and silver hair hanging loose to her hips. She smiled when Inara made eye contact. "Heard you coming," she said as she walked up the porch steps.
"River?"
"Hello," River said like she'd seen Inara last week.
"You called her and told her about my arrival?" Inara asked Mal, who shook his head.
"Nope."
"She's been talking about it all afternoon," came Kaylee's unmistakable voice from around the corner of the house. "Sent her students home early just so she could go grocery shopping and make short ribs."
"Mal was probably going to feed her steak with no side dish," River said. "And Simon had a six hour long reconstruction surgery today so who knows if he could even manage his five can chili."
"What's wrong with five can chili?" Simon asked from the kitchen window.
"It's not a good welcome meal," Kaylee said as she joined River on the porch before setting down her bags and throwing herself into Inara's arms.
"Hi mei mei," Inara murmured. Kaylee squeezed her tighter.
"It's been so long, Inara. I missed you."
"I missed you too. It's good to see you again." Inara pulled back and took a good look at her friend. Kaylee was rounder than she'd been at nineteen and wearing bright purple work pants. She had a pair of rainbow acetate reading glasses on a chain around her neck, and that more than anything else reminded Inara of how long it had really been.
"You're half asleep right now," River was telling her brother through the window. "You'd manage to burn the chili somehow."
"I've never messed up a pot of chili."
"I've seen you mess up boiling potatoes," River pointed out.
"Potatoes are not chili."
"This is enough short ribs to feed my whole staff," Mal said, glancing into the bags.
"We still have most of that cowshare from last slaughter in the freezer," Kaylee said. "And she's trying to get rid of it."
"Why aren't you eatin' it?"
"Well, without Art in the house it's like no one eats food," Kaylee told him. "I thought we all ate the same amounts, but apparently not."
"Water inspector's ship looked like it was on its last legs," Libby commented as she picked up the bags to take them inside. "Auntie Kaylee, do they all fly like that?"
"These days they do. Back when you were little, that was a patrol vehicle," Kaylee said. "It was crazy fast back then, but now it's standard for Rim planet low-level bureaucrats."
They filed back inside through the side door, Kaylee and River taking their shoes off and kicking them under the breakfast bar. Simon started taking plates out of the cabinets.
"No place setting needed for me," Libby said. "I'm off."
"You sure?" Kaylee asked. "There's plenty, Libs."
"I gotta get home, but I'll let my parents know about the guest!"
"Tell 'em they oughta come over for dinner or lunch when they can," Mal said.
"Will do," Libby said, and then she took a helmet down from the coat rack by the door and was gone. Inara heard the sound of a motorbike soon after.
"She has a bed upstairs in her office," Mal said as the noise faded. "But she tries to only use it during calving or auction season. And that's good! I want her to have a good balance and not have to think about work when she goes home in the evening. But if she wanted short ribs and a drink, she could have stayed."
"She needs to tell Zoe and Wash," Kaylee said. "She can't waste time." She was practically vibrating with excitement. "Inara, what have you been up to?"
Inara told her a bit about the last five or so years, outlining a vague idea of clients and travel the way she had described when she last spoke with Kaylee. Mal and Simon were busy organizing the table, and when Mal opened the first container full of River's cooking, Inara's mouth watered.
"River, this looks incredible."
"Thank you! I hope you like it."
Once they had plated up their short ribs and mashed turnips and eaten enough to satisfy any acute hunger, River turned back to conversation.
"I brought an album," she said, pulling a thick blue book out of one of the bags.
"You came prepared!" Mal said, settling into his chair.
"Well, I knew you wouldn't be," River told him, and gave him no opportunity to counter. "There's so much to catch you up on," she told Inara as she spun the album around. "But I want to start with showing off."
The picture she was pointing at was of…herself, maybe thirty years ago. Or at least, that's what Inara first thought, but there was something in the smile that was very Kaylee.
"This is Matilda," River said. "She's our eldest."
"Oh!" Inara turned and grinned at Mal. "These must be those absolute hellion Fryes you mentioned."
Kaylee shot him a scandalized look.
"Said with love!" He defended.
"Depending on how long you stay on Haven, maybe you can meet her when she comes home for Autumn Festival," River continued. "She lives on Dyton right now."
"She made these," Kaylee said, hooking a finger on her glasses chain, which was decorated with tiny plastic flower charms.
"She's an artist?" Inara guessed.
"She's a Cortex network installation technician," Kaylee corrected, pride obvious in her voice. "She just likes beading too."
"Oh, well, that's lovely that she has a creative outlet," Inara acknowledged. River nodded.
"She likes it a lot. And it’s a good side business, too, just whenever she wants to have some fun."
"Sort of pales in comparison to her literally perfect scores in computer programming, though," Simon offered.
"She's having fun," River defended. "Everyone should have a fun hobby."
She made significant eye contact with Inara that suggested Simon did not have a fun hobby, before flipping a page in the album to show a cluster of photos of a young man.
"And this is Arthur."
Arthur looked even more like Kaylee, robust and genial, but had River's (well, likely Simon's) dark hair.
"He's off on a ship," Kaylee said, a tightness to her voice. Mal sighed.
"It's owned and captained by the son of someone I was in the valley with," he told Inara. "The crew knows what they're doing and Art has a good head on his shoulders and the perfect skillset for vesselside living."
"I wish he was better at staying in touch, is all," Kaylee said.
"You were younger when you flew off with a bunch of strangers," Mal pointed out.
"Don't mean I gotta like it," Kaylee muttered.
"You were fine."
"I got shot," Kaylee reminded him, and then looked down at the album. "He does know what he's doing, though."
Inara leafed through the album, taking in snapshots of the lives of these people her friends had raised. There were pictures of Matilda in tutus and patchwork pants, moments of Arthur high up in treetops, older photos of the two as toddlers sitting on the floor and completely fixated on a kitten while Kaylee looked up at the camera mid laugh.
Eventually, Simon picked the conversation back up.
"You'll be here for ear tagging day," he told Inara.
"Ear tagging day?"
"You just missed calving season," Simon explained. "But we have to give the new calves all their shots now that they're big enough and get their ear tags in so we can keep track of them."
"It's a big day!" Mal said. "Everybody has to be ready to soothe the animals and keep 'em steady and get everything done as fast as possible."
"We'll be there," Kaylee chimed in, and River nodded.
"There's plenty to do," she said. "We can put you to work."
"Don't scare her off," Simon said sternly.
"I'd be happy to help out with the ranch business while I'm imposing as a guest in the house," Inara said quickly.
"It's on Friday," Mal told her. "Plenty of folks are coming to help out, along with the whole staff. It will be busy here, but the food is always fantastic."
"It's why half the helpers even show up," Kaylee added. "The potluck style lunch afterwards."
Kaylee then started telling her a story about last year's ear tagging day and Inara just sat and listened. It felt like she'd last spent a dinner with these folks a day ago, like they'd been gathered around that dining table in Serenity's galley just last night. She looked down at the table and realized that it was Serenity's galley table.
Soon, dinner was eaten and they were stacking dishes, and River vanished for a moment before returning wearing her purple coat and with Kaylee's coat in hand.
"You two're heading home?" Mal asked. “The guest room is made up.”
"Gotta rest up and get to work tomorrow," Kaylee reminded him as her wife helped her slide the jacket on. "But that doesn't mean you're getting rid of me, Inara."
"I certainly hope not!"
"I'll have to take a look at my calendar and then I'll let you know when I can show you around town."
They said their goodbyes for the night and as soon as the energy rush of Kaylee Frye was no longer within earshot, Inara found that the day caught up with her immediately and her eyes began closing. Simon put a gentle hand on her shoulder.
"Looks like the travel took it out of you," he commented.
"I hope you'll excuse me for not helping more with cleaning up tonight," Inara said. "But I think I ought to get to bed before I fall over."
She may have been exhausted, but Inara still managed to go through her evening routine, half on autopilot. She took a brief moment to appreciate the stars over Haven, but the day got the better of her and she was asleep as soon as she settled into the bed.