Title: Comfort

Author: Bashipforever

Summary: Sometime post War Stories Pre Heart of Gold. Nightmares haunt Mal.

Rated: G

Prompt: Stages of Love through the five senses: Smell

 

 

 

His fingers rested against the shuttle door and he closed his eyes, inhaling the spicy, flowery scent that always pervaded her shuttle and leaked out into the corridor leading to it. There were times the barest hint of that scent could calm him. Tonight was not one of those times. He’d woken up with a scream in his throat and the feeling of Niska’s torture implements carving up his skin. 

 

He hated that he needed the smell of her shuttle and he’d never admit that it was really the presence of the woman the scent belonged to that he needed, like food…water. Hell more like air since food and water could be denied for a little while. There weren’t no denyin’ this. He’d tried. Lord he’d tried and fought it and ended up miserable because of it.

 

He bowed his head, taking another deep breath and trying to figure out what sort of excuse he was going to use this time. The problem with excuses was that there were very few of them permissible for interrupting a woman’s sleep in the middle of the night, particularly a woman he wasn’t in love with, or one he wouldn’t admit to being in love with.

 

Finally, he gave in and rapped softly on the door. Normally he walked right in but he suspected, alright in all his fantasies, Inara slept naked and while he wouldn’t mind interrupting that, he knew Inara would feel differently.

 

Several moments later, the door was cracked open by a wild eyed, disheveled Inara dressed in a silk robe hastily thrown over a silk night gown and all Mal could think was so much for the naked fantasies. He doesn’t mind replacing them with silk covered ones though.

 

“Mal…what’s wrong?” Inara asked as she peeked around him into the corridor. “Is everyone okay? Are we being attacked?”

 

Mal shook his head, unable to tell her he was there because he’d had a nightmare.

 

“Well if we’re not-“ the look on his face stopped her reprimanding words and she stepped aside, gesturing him into the shuttle.

 

He sank into the couch with a sigh, leaned his head back and closed his eyes. He took a deep breath, letting that smell wash over him and the nightmare retreated a little.  Inara made tea, her features etched with curiosity. He supposed she’d been trained to wait a man out, let him talk when he was ready to talk. She’d be waitin’ a long time for him to spill his guts ‘bout the reason he was here.

 

She sat next to him, poured tea for them both and watched him with bright eyes.

 

“It’s fortunate you stopped by. I suffer terribly from insomnia sometimes,” she said without a hint of sarcasm or malice in her voice.

 

He wasn’t sure he’d heard her correctly; her tone was warm, grateful. He fixed his gaze on her, his eyes searching hers. After a moment he nodded.

 

 “Suffer from the same thing sometimes.”