Heart of Gold fic

My humble offering for this touching episode:

Title: Sand and Sun
Author: outofthisworld
Rating: One swear word.
Disclaimer: If I were making money doing this, I wouldn't be here.



The whorehouse reflected everything with heightened intensity; the glint and the dusty grit got into every corner, every skin crease, every fingernail. The sky had edges they could see and the women and men had been grated down to an honest sheen. When Serenity landed, the crew squinted into the sun.

For some, the bright motes brought some comfort. They didn't mind seeing themselves through that air—River was calm, soft around the edges. Refraction had put her back into a 'verse where the things she could see every day were born into the world as the rest knew it. There was no need for her voice when nothing needed to be said.

Jayne was like that, too. He had lived in houses like this one, right in the middle of blinding deserts whose storms stripped away all but the toughened skin. He had nothing to hide and never had. To be straight, he was more at home with these unashamed folk who didn't try to fancy up their words or deeds. He felt a balance when holding a woman who knew exactly what he was there for and didn't seem to much mind—truth be told, she reminded him of some of the girls he ran with before he'd needed to shave.

Even Simon was shunted back to a life where he could use his whole person in a challenge he was confident he could meet. It didn't matter he had never been a primary at a birthing before. He knew the methods and the theories behind solving this sort of thing and had no doubt that his knowledge and improvisational abilities could handle the task of helping a life slip into the world.

For Kaylee, though, the sand just got into the parts of her that were a little emptier than she'd like. She was forced to shake it out of her hair as her crew scattered to their respective strengths and she was back through the desert back to her ship. Even there, though, the glare bleaked her eyes and when the guns started shooting she was cowering again, unable to try to save even her own life. Once Wash's plan got them away from the henchmen she was alone again, unable to help herself or anyone else.

Book managed just about as well. He put his hands to good use as much as he could but his body betrayed his confidence when women asked him for guidance. Although he thought his time with Inara had accustomed him to a woman selling her body, with her it wasn't the defining part of her life—these girls, even while looking at him with guileless eyes, held themselves with a comfort and freedom that he couldn't even remember. Apparently, he thought as he scratched at the grit in his clothes, he wanted to remember.

You could barely tell that Wash and Zoe were at unease with each other, but it was there. Zoe looked at the austere landscape that had dominated and symbolized her life for so long and she had no problem moving through the scorching wind and finding what love she could. Wash wasn't used to this life yet; he was still waiting for beaches and oases where he could take his wife away and give her the comfort, luxury—hell, the stability—he knew she'd never had. The sand came between their hands when they touched and prickles that sometimes arose were thrown into stark relief by the shadowless heat that threatened to burn.

Mal couldn't help comparing this house to his ship, this desert to his sky, this woman to his life. And that calculating gaze took in Inara too. Was she comparing this place to her shuttle? To Sihnon? It almost seemed like this world was a combination of his and hers, though neither seemed quite comfortable in this amalgamation. For him it just thrust what was missing from his life into plain daylight. The swathing fabrics covering smooth skin covering firm muscle covering a quixotic heart. Something about the house and the woman protecting it reflected too much of his life. When Inara quirked her eyebrow at his shirtless departure from Nandie's quarters he saw a denial of everything he denied. When Nandie died he saw his death.

Inara washed as often as possible when getting water for Pettilene. She wanted to get the grime off her hands. The salt residue seemed to stick to her cheeks under the creaminess she cultivated, and even though she knew no one could see the tracks she could feel them. She wanted to take these girls back to where light was soft and flattering and they could learn how to cover their bodies to show more. She wanted to rip Mal's clothes apart and his body in them. The desert light revealed all she wanted and the desert light clung to her skin when she buried Nandie in the shade, when she returned home to Serenity, even when she looked Mal in the face and couldn't keep the light from glinting off the wetness in her eyes:

"Inara, I ain't looking for anything from you. I'm just feeling kind of truthsome right now. Life is too damn short for ifs and maybes."

"I learned something from Nandie. Not just from what happened, but from her. The family she made, the strength of her love for them. That's what kept them together. When you live with that kind of strength, you get tied to it, you can't break away. And you never want to. There's something that I... that I should have done a long while ago. And I'm sorry—for both of us—that it took me this long.

I'm leaving."