Nights
Series: Finding
Title: The Nights
Rating: PG-13
Characters: Jayne/River
Spoiler: Post, Post BDM
Disclaimer: Firefly owns me, I own words
Notes: A continuing thread of the same story that was alluded to in the River interview fics, and Jayne's Five Shirts meme... This started from a thought, or a lost prompt, or a sad night. Not really sure honestly. It has gone through a few incarnations, and interestingly enough, for the first several sentences, I didn't know whose eyes I was looking through (As in, I didn't know it was a Jayne/River fic). Very interesting sensation. They made me wait to find out for a bit. Huh.
All Jayne/River stories are in the same storyline, even if seen out of order...
The nights were the hardest. He would wake up not remembering who she was, and sometimes even who he was. The darkest hours were when she slept the lightest, hoping that this night would not be one of those nightmares of waking, him slamming himself back from her, shoving and grasping. His breath would catch in his throat, a growl tearing from his lips. She would slide swiftly out of the bed, quiet movements, hands placating and empty.
“Who are you? What are you doing in my bed!?” He would snarl, the anger in his eyes flashing as he shook his head to clear his foggy thoughts.
“Shhh, be still… the night has stolen your memories…” She would reply softly, voice pitched in soothing tones.
He usually scrambled back against the wall, a hand searching behind him for one of his girls hanging behind the bed, always ready. When his fingers closed on the butt of one, he smoothly drew it around to bear on the woman.
“You haven’t got a right to be here…I ain’t never seen you before! How’d you get here?” He growled as he held the gun easily in his hand, that at least was familiar. He would look at her, a petite woman with long brown hair shot through with grey. Her body disguised her age, it was supple and lithe in movement, a dancer, he would decide.
“Shhh, it is all right. You don’t remember, but you know me.” She kept talking to him as she moved towards him, ignoring the gun still pointed at her unerringly. “We have been here before. This is my home. Here with you.”
“I don’t know who ya are! I see a sneak come to my bed while I slept, ” His voice would crack, eyes would grow wilder as he hunted for memories he couldn’t find. She reached out her hand then and gently grasped the gun above his hand, turning it from herself and while keeping her eyes glued to his, nod slightly, an affirmation that he should release the weapon.
“I am here on your invitation. I know the night stole that from you. I have been here with you since we were blind to each other. My eyes still see the man you were then, and yours still see me as then.”
By now the confusion in his mind would be so complete that he would allow her to take the gun. He sought for his own identity frantically then, realizing that he couldn’t find that in his mind either. He would see the woman before him as she was when she was young then. Hair was all brown then, skin creamy luminescence. The body was younger, slightly stronger, but the eyes were the same. Large and clear. Brown to the point of blackness.
Softly, voice nearly inaudible, “Who am I?” His eyes would grow dark and lost then.
He could feel his own body, large and strong, but he had no memory of how it came to ache in some places. Pains were scattered throughout his frame. A few he could put a name to, old scars that still hurt. A gunshot wound to his right shoulder, he knew that was what made that arm ache as he flexed the muscle there. A vague itch across his chest, a knife slice he knew. But why did his back ache so? Where did the pain in his left hand come from? He couldn’t remember. The skin on his hands was rough and coarse, permanently sunburned arms were still round with muscles. His bones protested as he sat up to quickly. He shook his head like a bear wakened to early from his slumber, anger flowed through him like fire, leaving him hot and tense. His body prepared to fight, all the familiar responses. His hands tightened into fists, shoulders squared and back straightened.
The old/young woman stepped back from the bed, eyes showing nothing but calm. He glared at her, darkness engulfed his thoughts. Nothing but the desire to burn the memories back to himself. He could feel the heat of the flame inside, knew it was clouding his mind. Nothing he could do. A snarl escaped his lips as he lunged forward at the only other person in the room.
She swiftly raised her right hand and caught him on his chest, at his heart and stepped out of the way of his charge. He slew around and hit the wall behind her, her hand still over his heart.
“Come back to me. I will catch you when you fall.” She whispered.
His fire flamed thoughts heard the words but didn’t comprehend. He flung his left arm up, inside her arm holding him and pushed her hand away. His right hand snaked out and caught her around her back and drew her to himself violently. He had her body pressed against his, reached up with his left hand to catch her face, thumb under chin, fingers around the back of her head, buried in her hair.
She didn’t fight him, just kept her calm gaze on him, eyes not letting his look away. He felt her heartbeat against his chest. It was slow and rhythmic unlike his own. The fire flowed through his skin; he wondered that he didn’t burn her with his touch. “Who am I!?” He growled at her through clenched teeth.
“You are all and everything in yourself. A bear rumbling in your chest, a cat snarling against the world, molten power inside…you are my peace.” She answered softly. He knew he held her in his arms, arms that felt familiar holding her.
“I don’t know you! I can’t…” He snarled violently, deep-throated fear and anger mixing in his voice.
Held tightly, head held so she couldn’t look away, tears sprang into her eyes at his vehemence. She would try to blink them away, but one would roll free down her cheek. His thumb would wipe it away gently without his awareness. The movement was as natural as breathing to him.
He watched her eyes fill, saw the liquid trail down, felt his hand respond. The wet on his finger was warm and sticky. His eye was captured by the minute drama of the tear. He drew his hand towards himself, studied the moisture glistening on the tip of the calloused finger.
She waited, eyes clearing as she watched him. Her heart would begin to thunder in her chest by now. His right arm still held her tightly to him. She felt heat radiating off him, increasing as he searched his mind for memories that would not come to him.
“Your body remembers what your mind won’t reveal to you. The taste of us is part of you as it is part of me.” She urged him gently to trust what his arms and heart were telling him. The sound of his heart was loud enough to hear over his strained breathing. He licked his thumb tentatively tasting warm saltiness. She watched him carefully, knowing the moment would happen soon if it was going to happen at all.
Some nights he would roughly push her away from himself, spitting the words at her, “Get out! I don’t know you!”
Those nights she would leave quietly, retreat to a room far from him and wrap herself in one of his coats. She would weep herself to sleep surrounded by his scent; leather, cigar, whiskey and gunpowder.
On the good nights his eyes would flicker shut, closing the moment off from view. When they opened again, the clear crystal blue she had fallen in love with so many years earlier would fix on her. He would tremble; his body pressed to hers, draw her tighter with both arms. She would smile then, seeing her heart return to her.
“Little Crazy… I… I… how can I…” He would stammer with a voice dragged over gravel.
“You came back to me, that is all I ever need, my Bearcat returned to me…” She would say soothingly. His arms would tighten around her slim body; he would hold her like a man afraid of drowning.
Gently she would urge him back to their bed, lay them down, bodies entwined. He wouldn’t let her go as he drifted off to sleep. On those nights his sleep was restless, his body would curve around hers, his chest pressing into her back, his legs wrapped through hers. Strong arms held her tightly, occasionally grasping her almost painfully to himself. She would hear him murmuring, talking, growling in his sleep as night demons took his dreams. Sometimes he would call out her name, call for her. She would gently draw his arms more around her then, shushing him as she did.
“Ya can’t have ‘er… ain’t gonna let ya have ‘er…” he would writhe in his sleep, shaking his head in denial. She knew he was dreaming of times past, times he had put himself between her and those intent on taking her. They both knew she was as strong a fighter as him, but he never stopped being her Bearcat, her protector if he could. In the dark of dreams, he still tried to protect her. Now though, they were only after her in his mind.
The night would pass with him restlessly moving, twitching, calling out, snarling at unseen dangers. She held him as much as he held her. The times he held her like this she knew she would never have traded her life as she had lived it for anything. Those nights she knew she could not have been more loved, more happy. His fitful sleep was proof of his daytime devotion.
The nights when he chased her from their bedroom with fear and anger in his blue eyes she felt lost. Mornings would come, he would waken, not know why she wasn’t in their bed, his forgetting forgotten. He would find her those mornings, curled up in his recliner, wrapped in his coat. “Hey there Girlie, whatcha doing sleepin’ here?” He would ask, concern in his voice.
She never told him the truth. “Night was restless, sleep would not come. Finding sleep was problematic. Didn’t want to wake you.” She would smile at him then. Warmth would fill her, seeing him regarding her seriously, his eyes filling with concern. “Morning Growly.” She would tease then, getting him to relax and smile for her.
“Well, good thing I came and found ya, we got a big day today.”
“Big day?”
“Anniversary of the day I found ya.” He smiled broadly, white teeth flashing in his smile.
She raised a brow, face quizzical.
“Today is the day I knew ya would be mine… and you said yes.” His grin was wide as he swept her into his arms, pulling her close for a kiss with a sparkle in his eye. She melted into his kiss, felt the years disappear in that moment and they weren’t old anymore, they were young and strong and hopeful. “ I won’t ever forget that day my beautiful River Girl.”
She never told him how she was terrified that someday he would, that he would forget her forever. And then forget himself.
Title: The Nights
Rating: PG-13
Characters: Jayne/River
Spoiler: Post, Post BDM
Disclaimer: Firefly owns me, I own words
Notes: A continuing thread of the same story that was alluded to in the River interview fics, and Jayne's Five Shirts meme... This started from a thought, or a lost prompt, or a sad night. Not really sure honestly. It has gone through a few incarnations, and interestingly enough, for the first several sentences, I didn't know whose eyes I was looking through (As in, I didn't know it was a Jayne/River fic). Very interesting sensation. They made me wait to find out for a bit. Huh.
All Jayne/River stories are in the same storyline, even if seen out of order...
The nights were the hardest. He would wake up not remembering who she was, and sometimes even who he was. The darkest hours were when she slept the lightest, hoping that this night would not be one of those nightmares of waking, him slamming himself back from her, shoving and grasping. His breath would catch in his throat, a growl tearing from his lips. She would slide swiftly out of the bed, quiet movements, hands placating and empty.
“Who are you? What are you doing in my bed!?” He would snarl, the anger in his eyes flashing as he shook his head to clear his foggy thoughts.
“Shhh, be still… the night has stolen your memories…” She would reply softly, voice pitched in soothing tones.
He usually scrambled back against the wall, a hand searching behind him for one of his girls hanging behind the bed, always ready. When his fingers closed on the butt of one, he smoothly drew it around to bear on the woman.
“You haven’t got a right to be here…I ain’t never seen you before! How’d you get here?” He growled as he held the gun easily in his hand, that at least was familiar. He would look at her, a petite woman with long brown hair shot through with grey. Her body disguised her age, it was supple and lithe in movement, a dancer, he would decide.
“Shhh, it is all right. You don’t remember, but you know me.” She kept talking to him as she moved towards him, ignoring the gun still pointed at her unerringly. “We have been here before. This is my home. Here with you.”
“I don’t know who ya are! I see a sneak come to my bed while I slept, ” His voice would crack, eyes would grow wilder as he hunted for memories he couldn’t find. She reached out her hand then and gently grasped the gun above his hand, turning it from herself and while keeping her eyes glued to his, nod slightly, an affirmation that he should release the weapon.
“I am here on your invitation. I know the night stole that from you. I have been here with you since we were blind to each other. My eyes still see the man you were then, and yours still see me as then.”
By now the confusion in his mind would be so complete that he would allow her to take the gun. He sought for his own identity frantically then, realizing that he couldn’t find that in his mind either. He would see the woman before him as she was when she was young then. Hair was all brown then, skin creamy luminescence. The body was younger, slightly stronger, but the eyes were the same. Large and clear. Brown to the point of blackness.
Softly, voice nearly inaudible, “Who am I?” His eyes would grow dark and lost then.
He could feel his own body, large and strong, but he had no memory of how it came to ache in some places. Pains were scattered throughout his frame. A few he could put a name to, old scars that still hurt. A gunshot wound to his right shoulder, he knew that was what made that arm ache as he flexed the muscle there. A vague itch across his chest, a knife slice he knew. But why did his back ache so? Where did the pain in his left hand come from? He couldn’t remember. The skin on his hands was rough and coarse, permanently sunburned arms were still round with muscles. His bones protested as he sat up to quickly. He shook his head like a bear wakened to early from his slumber, anger flowed through him like fire, leaving him hot and tense. His body prepared to fight, all the familiar responses. His hands tightened into fists, shoulders squared and back straightened.
The old/young woman stepped back from the bed, eyes showing nothing but calm. He glared at her, darkness engulfed his thoughts. Nothing but the desire to burn the memories back to himself. He could feel the heat of the flame inside, knew it was clouding his mind. Nothing he could do. A snarl escaped his lips as he lunged forward at the only other person in the room.
She swiftly raised her right hand and caught him on his chest, at his heart and stepped out of the way of his charge. He slew around and hit the wall behind her, her hand still over his heart.
“Come back to me. I will catch you when you fall.” She whispered.
His fire flamed thoughts heard the words but didn’t comprehend. He flung his left arm up, inside her arm holding him and pushed her hand away. His right hand snaked out and caught her around her back and drew her to himself violently. He had her body pressed against his, reached up with his left hand to catch her face, thumb under chin, fingers around the back of her head, buried in her hair.
She didn’t fight him, just kept her calm gaze on him, eyes not letting his look away. He felt her heartbeat against his chest. It was slow and rhythmic unlike his own. The fire flowed through his skin; he wondered that he didn’t burn her with his touch. “Who am I!?” He growled at her through clenched teeth.
“You are all and everything in yourself. A bear rumbling in your chest, a cat snarling against the world, molten power inside…you are my peace.” She answered softly. He knew he held her in his arms, arms that felt familiar holding her.
“I don’t know you! I can’t…” He snarled violently, deep-throated fear and anger mixing in his voice.
Held tightly, head held so she couldn’t look away, tears sprang into her eyes at his vehemence. She would try to blink them away, but one would roll free down her cheek. His thumb would wipe it away gently without his awareness. The movement was as natural as breathing to him.
He watched her eyes fill, saw the liquid trail down, felt his hand respond. The wet on his finger was warm and sticky. His eye was captured by the minute drama of the tear. He drew his hand towards himself, studied the moisture glistening on the tip of the calloused finger.
She waited, eyes clearing as she watched him. Her heart would begin to thunder in her chest by now. His right arm still held her tightly to him. She felt heat radiating off him, increasing as he searched his mind for memories that would not come to him.
“Your body remembers what your mind won’t reveal to you. The taste of us is part of you as it is part of me.” She urged him gently to trust what his arms and heart were telling him. The sound of his heart was loud enough to hear over his strained breathing. He licked his thumb tentatively tasting warm saltiness. She watched him carefully, knowing the moment would happen soon if it was going to happen at all.
Some nights he would roughly push her away from himself, spitting the words at her, “Get out! I don’t know you!”
Those nights she would leave quietly, retreat to a room far from him and wrap herself in one of his coats. She would weep herself to sleep surrounded by his scent; leather, cigar, whiskey and gunpowder.
On the good nights his eyes would flicker shut, closing the moment off from view. When they opened again, the clear crystal blue she had fallen in love with so many years earlier would fix on her. He would tremble; his body pressed to hers, draw her tighter with both arms. She would smile then, seeing her heart return to her.
“Little Crazy… I… I… how can I…” He would stammer with a voice dragged over gravel.
“You came back to me, that is all I ever need, my Bearcat returned to me…” She would say soothingly. His arms would tighten around her slim body; he would hold her like a man afraid of drowning.
Gently she would urge him back to their bed, lay them down, bodies entwined. He wouldn’t let her go as he drifted off to sleep. On those nights his sleep was restless, his body would curve around hers, his chest pressing into her back, his legs wrapped through hers. Strong arms held her tightly, occasionally grasping her almost painfully to himself. She would hear him murmuring, talking, growling in his sleep as night demons took his dreams. Sometimes he would call out her name, call for her. She would gently draw his arms more around her then, shushing him as she did.
“Ya can’t have ‘er… ain’t gonna let ya have ‘er…” he would writhe in his sleep, shaking his head in denial. She knew he was dreaming of times past, times he had put himself between her and those intent on taking her. They both knew she was as strong a fighter as him, but he never stopped being her Bearcat, her protector if he could. In the dark of dreams, he still tried to protect her. Now though, they were only after her in his mind.
The night would pass with him restlessly moving, twitching, calling out, snarling at unseen dangers. She held him as much as he held her. The times he held her like this she knew she would never have traded her life as she had lived it for anything. Those nights she knew she could not have been more loved, more happy. His fitful sleep was proof of his daytime devotion.
The nights when he chased her from their bedroom with fear and anger in his blue eyes she felt lost. Mornings would come, he would waken, not know why she wasn’t in their bed, his forgetting forgotten. He would find her those mornings, curled up in his recliner, wrapped in his coat. “Hey there Girlie, whatcha doing sleepin’ here?” He would ask, concern in his voice.
She never told him the truth. “Night was restless, sleep would not come. Finding sleep was problematic. Didn’t want to wake you.” She would smile at him then. Warmth would fill her, seeing him regarding her seriously, his eyes filling with concern. “Morning Growly.” She would tease then, getting him to relax and smile for her.
“Well, good thing I came and found ya, we got a big day today.”
“Big day?”
“Anniversary of the day I found ya.” He smiled broadly, white teeth flashing in his smile.
She raised a brow, face quizzical.
“Today is the day I knew ya would be mine… and you said yes.” His grin was wide as he swept her into his arms, pulling her close for a kiss with a sparkle in his eye. She melted into his kiss, felt the years disappear in that moment and they weren’t old anymore, they were young and strong and hopeful. “ I won’t ever forget that day my beautiful River Girl.”
She never told him how she was terrified that someday he would, that he would forget her forever. And then forget himself.