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F: Entanglement
Fandom: Firefly
Pairing: Simon/Inara
Warnings: None
Rating: PG13
Summary: Inara's involvement with Simon prior to his arrival on Serenity. Written for the Simon ficathon.
"Do you know what to do?"
The young man looks up from his quick examination of the body with a slightly offended expression. "I'm a doctor."
"I didn't know," Inara says, kneeling down next to him and reaching for something to mop up the blood leaking from a wound in the man's side. "A doctor is a useful thing to have at a civilised party like this."
He smiles a little. "My name is Simon Tam. You are...?"
"Inara Serra. A registered companion. This man is my client. Is there any way I can help you?"
He pulls back for a moment to give her an appraising look, then he nods curtly, giving her a few commands -- suggesting things she might be able to find quickly that would help him deal with the wound without his usual tools, for the time being at least. She leaves to get them, impressed by his air of surety and efficiency even without the typical array of tools that doctors so often rely on.
"Thank you for being so quick to help him," she says, when he has finished doing what he can and they are waiting for an ambulance to arrive. She lowers her eyes, looking up at him through her lashes. "I don't often come to Osiris, but when I next visit, I would be pleased to see you again."
"Is that an offer?" he asks, raising an eyebrow.
"If you want to be," she says, lightly. She smiles again, flirtatiously, frustrated by her lack of ability to read him as she can others and find out what's on his mind. "But I am not short of clients on this planet."
"I'm sure you're not," he replies, inclining his head slightly.
The ambulance arrives now, cutting short their conversation. Inara leaves with her unconscious client, wondering if she will see the young Doctor Tam again. It's rare that she feels such a sense of destiny and connection with a person immediately upon meeting them.
---
Simon is quiet. Inara lies with her head on his shoulder, savouring the warmth of his body and the feeling of his arm around her. She doesn't love him anymore than she loves any other of her clients, but things are... easier, with him, than with some. Things are comfortable. The feeling of his fingers running carefully through her hair is somehow soothing, his hands always careful and gentle. "You're very tense, this time."
"I have something on my mind," he says, sighing softly. He shifts slightly and she moves with him, settling against him comfortably again. "It... you wouldn't be interested, I'm sure."
"Part of my job is to help relieve my clients' tension, if they are tense, to help them better enjoy my company," she points out, smiling a little -- her tone gentle, a little teasing. "You can talk to me about it."
"It's... a delicate matter."
"All conversations you have with me, regardless of the subject matter, are confidential."
"Of course," he says, with perhaps a note of regret in his voice, though why, she isn't quite sure. "You're such a professional."
"It's a worthier profession than some."
"Of course."
He doesn't relax. She rubs a hand up his chest, over his shoulder, feeling his muscles taut and not at all relaxed as would be usual for him after sex. She sighs softly. "Talk to me. Tell me what's on your mind. You never know if I'll be able to help, and you know that I'm not some cheap whore, incapable of understanding the lofty issues of someone of your social class and profession."
"Of course you're not!" he says, pushing her away slightly and sitting up to look at her. His expression suggests he's genuinely offended that she should think he does believe that about her. He sighs softly, shaking his head. "Please don't think that's why I can't talk to you about what's troubling me."
"So tell me," she says, quietly, sitting up as well. She runs her fingers through his hair; gentle, reassuring. "Maybe I can help."
"I doubt it. My sister... Compared to her, I'm an idiot. She's... she's amazing, clever and graceful. She can do anything she puts her mind to. We sent her to a government academy."
"I didn't know the Alliance ran any kind of academy."
"Neither did we," Simon says. Inara watches his eyes, the love there when he speaks of his sister, the guarded fear and worry as he talks about where she is. He must be missing her, that's all, Inara thinks -- ashamed to say so because he's old enough to know better, because he's a young man and not a little girl. She opens her mouth to say something, but he shakes his head, pressing his fingers gently to her lips to keep her silent while he speaks. "For a long time, I haven't heard anything from her. But she's sent me letters, recently. They make no sense, they're full of spelling errors and... it's not like her. Not unless she's trying to tell me something."
Inara nods slightly, thoughtfully, smiling just a tiny bit. "Maybe she's playing a game. Maybe it's some kind of code."
"Yes," he says, nodding slightly, "exactly."
"Can't you work it out?"
"The code is easy to work out," Simon says, shaking his head slightly. "For me, anyway. I'm used to her ways. She seems... less stable than she was, but she's still my sister. I know when she's playing a game and when it's more serious."
Inara nods again, moving closer to him and running her hand over the back of his neck, massaging a little. "What does she say?"
"That... they're hurting them. That she wants me to get her out."
She bites her lip. "Are you sure she's not playing?"
"I just told you that. I know her. She's not playing some kind of game, no."
"So you believe she's telling the truth?" Inara frowns, pulling away from him a little to think more on the problem. "You're going to try and get her out? Do you have a plan? Any idea where to start?"
"I have money. I'm sure I can build up the contacts, find out more..."
"Money isn't everything. Contacts are hard to find just like that."
Simon's tone is as aggressive as she's ever heard it, fuelled by worry and the fear that he can't do what he needs to do, and from the moment he starts speaking she regrets letting the criticism be apparent. "Do you know a better way of doing it?"
"I'm sorry," she says, moving closer to him again and touching his cheek lightly; re-establishing a rapport, a closeness that permits sharing. "I can tell you love your sister very much. I was going to offer what help I can. I can't be connected to it really, being a companion -- it could destroy me. But I might be able to... whisper. Get some interest in what's going on there."
"I can do this on my own," he says, but without any of the confidence that comes through in his voice when he speaks of something medical. "But... thank you for the offer. You should... you should come and see me more often."
She recognises the change of topic for what it is and allows it, smiling at him teasingly. "The captain of the ship I travel on doesn't come to Osiris that often. He avoids the planet unless he has to come, in fact. You're not going to offer to take me away from this miserable existence?"
"You wouldn't accept the offer."
She smiles at him, because he knows her better than she would've imagined from him -- from any of her clients. "No, I wouldn't. I love the ship I'm on -- Serenity. The crew are all good people, even if they get on the wrong side of the Alliance more often than necessary. I never thought I'd enjoy such company, but they're all my friends. Especially the engineer. A girl called Kaylee."
"A girl?"
"Yes, a girl."
Simon makes a face. "I can't imagine you in such company."
Inara shakes her head. "I couldn't, either, just a few months ago. But I'm happy."
"That's important," he says, lightly.
She kisses him then, lightly. And then again, lightly, teasingly. She pulls him closer to her, pressing against him, doing her best to make him forget, make him relax, for a time at least. That, she knows how to do. There's nothing confusing or complicated about this.
---
"Simon..."
"Can I come in?"
Inara pushes her hair back, finding a moment of calm to pull a smile from. She turns to him and nods slightly. "Of course. You're welcome in here, as long as you remember to ask me first."
"I thought you said I'd be welcomed here," Simon says, after a moment, stepping into the shuttle. He looks hurt. Harassed. It's already wearing on him, she knows. He can't handle this kind of existence and yet now he has to. She could ease that, with just the slightest touches, a few words, but she knows that that would hurt his pride. Right now, he wants to stand on his own.
"I thought you would be," she says, softly. She turns away from him and opens one of her boxes, carefully kneeling down and taking the contents out into her lap. She can feel his eyes on her. "I'm sorry."
Simon is silent for a long, long moment. She keeps going through her things, practical things and pretty things, presents from clients that she must remember never to wear in front of the wrong people, always aware of the tensions and jealousies between her clients. She pulls out foil packets that crinkle in her hands, the typical immunisation packs most Companions always have on hand. She starts to pack things back into the box, carefully, fitting things in snugly so even Wash's most enthusiastic evasive manoeuver won't throw them about.
"It's not your fault," he says, finally, as she rises to look at him again.
"I want you to stay on this ship. As a medic. I'll do my best with Mal."
"You must have a lot of influence on him," Simon says, with a tone in his voice that she does not like. She stands a little taller, but lets herself look a little more fragile, hurt.
"I do not... service any member of this crew. I avoid such entanglements on board ship."
There's a moment of uncomfortable silence and then Simon nods slightly. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't say such things. It's none of my business anyway."
"No, you shouldn't, because it won't ever be true," she says, and then relents a little. She holds out the immunisation packs to him. "I found something for you."
Pairing: Simon/Inara
Warnings: None
Rating: PG13
Summary: Inara's involvement with Simon prior to his arrival on Serenity. Written for the Simon ficathon.
"Do you know what to do?"
The young man looks up from his quick examination of the body with a slightly offended expression. "I'm a doctor."
"I didn't know," Inara says, kneeling down next to him and reaching for something to mop up the blood leaking from a wound in the man's side. "A doctor is a useful thing to have at a civilised party like this."
He smiles a little. "My name is Simon Tam. You are...?"
"Inara Serra. A registered companion. This man is my client. Is there any way I can help you?"
He pulls back for a moment to give her an appraising look, then he nods curtly, giving her a few commands -- suggesting things she might be able to find quickly that would help him deal with the wound without his usual tools, for the time being at least. She leaves to get them, impressed by his air of surety and efficiency even without the typical array of tools that doctors so often rely on.
"Thank you for being so quick to help him," she says, when he has finished doing what he can and they are waiting for an ambulance to arrive. She lowers her eyes, looking up at him through her lashes. "I don't often come to Osiris, but when I next visit, I would be pleased to see you again."
"Is that an offer?" he asks, raising an eyebrow.
"If you want to be," she says, lightly. She smiles again, flirtatiously, frustrated by her lack of ability to read him as she can others and find out what's on his mind. "But I am not short of clients on this planet."
"I'm sure you're not," he replies, inclining his head slightly.
The ambulance arrives now, cutting short their conversation. Inara leaves with her unconscious client, wondering if she will see the young Doctor Tam again. It's rare that she feels such a sense of destiny and connection with a person immediately upon meeting them.
Simon is quiet. Inara lies with her head on his shoulder, savouring the warmth of his body and the feeling of his arm around her. She doesn't love him anymore than she loves any other of her clients, but things are... easier, with him, than with some. Things are comfortable. The feeling of his fingers running carefully through her hair is somehow soothing, his hands always careful and gentle. "You're very tense, this time."
"I have something on my mind," he says, sighing softly. He shifts slightly and she moves with him, settling against him comfortably again. "It... you wouldn't be interested, I'm sure."
"Part of my job is to help relieve my clients' tension, if they are tense, to help them better enjoy my company," she points out, smiling a little -- her tone gentle, a little teasing. "You can talk to me about it."
"It's... a delicate matter."
"All conversations you have with me, regardless of the subject matter, are confidential."
"Of course," he says, with perhaps a note of regret in his voice, though why, she isn't quite sure. "You're such a professional."
"It's a worthier profession than some."
"Of course."
He doesn't relax. She rubs a hand up his chest, over his shoulder, feeling his muscles taut and not at all relaxed as would be usual for him after sex. She sighs softly. "Talk to me. Tell me what's on your mind. You never know if I'll be able to help, and you know that I'm not some cheap whore, incapable of understanding the lofty issues of someone of your social class and profession."
"Of course you're not!" he says, pushing her away slightly and sitting up to look at her. His expression suggests he's genuinely offended that she should think he does believe that about her. He sighs softly, shaking his head. "Please don't think that's why I can't talk to you about what's troubling me."
"So tell me," she says, quietly, sitting up as well. She runs her fingers through his hair; gentle, reassuring. "Maybe I can help."
"I doubt it. My sister... Compared to her, I'm an idiot. She's... she's amazing, clever and graceful. She can do anything she puts her mind to. We sent her to a government academy."
"I didn't know the Alliance ran any kind of academy."
"Neither did we," Simon says. Inara watches his eyes, the love there when he speaks of his sister, the guarded fear and worry as he talks about where she is. He must be missing her, that's all, Inara thinks -- ashamed to say so because he's old enough to know better, because he's a young man and not a little girl. She opens her mouth to say something, but he shakes his head, pressing his fingers gently to her lips to keep her silent while he speaks. "For a long time, I haven't heard anything from her. But she's sent me letters, recently. They make no sense, they're full of spelling errors and... it's not like her. Not unless she's trying to tell me something."
Inara nods slightly, thoughtfully, smiling just a tiny bit. "Maybe she's playing a game. Maybe it's some kind of code."
"Yes," he says, nodding slightly, "exactly."
"Can't you work it out?"
"The code is easy to work out," Simon says, shaking his head slightly. "For me, anyway. I'm used to her ways. She seems... less stable than she was, but she's still my sister. I know when she's playing a game and when it's more serious."
Inara nods again, moving closer to him and running her hand over the back of his neck, massaging a little. "What does she say?"
"That... they're hurting them. That she wants me to get her out."
She bites her lip. "Are you sure she's not playing?"
"I just told you that. I know her. She's not playing some kind of game, no."
"So you believe she's telling the truth?" Inara frowns, pulling away from him a little to think more on the problem. "You're going to try and get her out? Do you have a plan? Any idea where to start?"
"I have money. I'm sure I can build up the contacts, find out more..."
"Money isn't everything. Contacts are hard to find just like that."
Simon's tone is as aggressive as she's ever heard it, fuelled by worry and the fear that he can't do what he needs to do, and from the moment he starts speaking she regrets letting the criticism be apparent. "Do you know a better way of doing it?"
"I'm sorry," she says, moving closer to him again and touching his cheek lightly; re-establishing a rapport, a closeness that permits sharing. "I can tell you love your sister very much. I was going to offer what help I can. I can't be connected to it really, being a companion -- it could destroy me. But I might be able to... whisper. Get some interest in what's going on there."
"I can do this on my own," he says, but without any of the confidence that comes through in his voice when he speaks of something medical. "But... thank you for the offer. You should... you should come and see me more often."
She recognises the change of topic for what it is and allows it, smiling at him teasingly. "The captain of the ship I travel on doesn't come to Osiris that often. He avoids the planet unless he has to come, in fact. You're not going to offer to take me away from this miserable existence?"
"You wouldn't accept the offer."
She smiles at him, because he knows her better than she would've imagined from him -- from any of her clients. "No, I wouldn't. I love the ship I'm on -- Serenity. The crew are all good people, even if they get on the wrong side of the Alliance more often than necessary. I never thought I'd enjoy such company, but they're all my friends. Especially the engineer. A girl called Kaylee."
"A girl?"
"Yes, a girl."
Simon makes a face. "I can't imagine you in such company."
Inara shakes her head. "I couldn't, either, just a few months ago. But I'm happy."
"That's important," he says, lightly.
She kisses him then, lightly. And then again, lightly, teasingly. She pulls him closer to her, pressing against him, doing her best to make him forget, make him relax, for a time at least. That, she knows how to do. There's nothing confusing or complicated about this.
"Simon..."
"Can I come in?"
Inara pushes her hair back, finding a moment of calm to pull a smile from. She turns to him and nods slightly. "Of course. You're welcome in here, as long as you remember to ask me first."
"I thought you said I'd be welcomed here," Simon says, after a moment, stepping into the shuttle. He looks hurt. Harassed. It's already wearing on him, she knows. He can't handle this kind of existence and yet now he has to. She could ease that, with just the slightest touches, a few words, but she knows that that would hurt his pride. Right now, he wants to stand on his own.
"I thought you would be," she says, softly. She turns away from him and opens one of her boxes, carefully kneeling down and taking the contents out into her lap. She can feel his eyes on her. "I'm sorry."
Simon is silent for a long, long moment. She keeps going through her things, practical things and pretty things, presents from clients that she must remember never to wear in front of the wrong people, always aware of the tensions and jealousies between her clients. She pulls out foil packets that crinkle in her hands, the typical immunisation packs most Companions always have on hand. She starts to pack things back into the box, carefully, fitting things in snugly so even Wash's most enthusiastic evasive manoeuver won't throw them about.
"It's not your fault," he says, finally, as she rises to look at him again.
"I want you to stay on this ship. As a medic. I'll do my best with Mal."
"You must have a lot of influence on him," Simon says, with a tone in his voice that she does not like. She stands a little taller, but lets herself look a little more fragile, hurt.
"I do not... service any member of this crew. I avoid such entanglements on board ship."
There's a moment of uncomfortable silence and then Simon nods slightly. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't say such things. It's none of my business anyway."
"No, you shouldn't, because it won't ever be true," she says, and then relents a little. She holds out the immunisation packs to him. "I found something for you."