Fic: Found
title: Found
author: aestheticjunkie
challenge: #184 - Snow, Ice or Slush
rating/genre: PG for language. Gen.
characters: River, Jayne, crew.
disclaimer: They all belong to Joss
word count: 964
River had seen snow, had experienced snow twice on Osiris, once during Christmas at the Tam’s cabin, once on a field-trip for school when she was eight, the fluffy flakes floating silently over dusted pines, the world hushed and softened. This was - this was searing wind, the sting of ice hitting her face and hands, her voice lost and smothered by the cold and white. She clutched the compass in her right hand, her left buried in the pocket of her parka. She wished now she’d waited and taken the face covering and gloves Simon had offered her.
“Jayne!” This was useless. There was no rutting way he could hear them calling in this ice storm, this blizzard, this weather from hell and she wished to God she had stayed on the ship, but she just couldn’t. She wanted to help. She wanted to swallow her fear. He’d been gone three hours now, with no radio, no supplies.
“Jayne!” She used that trick she’d learned to project her voice, hoarse now from yelling for so long, the syllables stolen away by the wind. She felt a hand on her arm, looked up, realizing her face was growing numb. Zoe, all but hidden inside the deep fur ruff of her parka’s hood.
“Captain wants you to go back.”
“No.”
“It’s getting dark, River. Let me and Mal handle it.”
“No.” River shook her head. “He thinks I’m out there. I have to find him.” It was just a joke, a stupid joke she and Kaylee had played on him, making him think she’d left Serenity, they were so bored and River feeling fine, feeling in the now after days of haze and darkness. And Jayne concentrating so hard on that field manual he’d picked up last stop at Persephone, hadn’t spoken a word to her in a while, even when she’d stolen a muffin with real blueberries from him that morning. “I have to find him,” she repeated.
Zoe’s eyes didn’t argue, but she shook her head. “The Captain - “
“The Captain can’t stop me, and neither can you.” She didn’t elaborate. She put her head down and consulted the compass, the tiny screen with its neon-green trail, showing her where she’d been. “I’m only on square four of the grid. There are twelve more to cover. I have a lantern, I have the compass, I have my wits today.” She moved forward into the trees. Zoe did not follow.
~~~~~
God, but she was tired. The wind was relentless. She’d lost feeling in her face long ago. Ice crusted the fur of her parka hood, making visibility even more obscure. I will not cry, I will not cry. Jayne where are you? Her lantern cast a wide swathe of light but showed her only driven flakes, flashing white and grey against the darkness of tree trunks. I will not cry.
Her radio crackled. She had to hold it up to her ear to hear anything. “River?”
Simon. She had to answer. “I’m here, Simon!” Her voice almost gone.
“Come back, mei-mei. It’s late.”
A tear froze on her cheek. “I’m sorry Simon. I can’t. Not until I find him.” She turned the radio off. Put the compass in her pocket, the lantern on the ground. Closed her eyes. Opened her mind.
Jayne. . .
She’d never tried this before. Serenity was small. It wasn’t difficult to sense the crew in familiar surroundings. Burdock, small pathetic moon of ice way out in the Black, was vast, this forest was vast, the stinging snow and the constant slam of the wind tore at her senses. But she’d walked the grid and Mal and Zoe had walked theirs, and found nothing. She had to try.
The world behind her eyes flooded white. A pinprick, a slow tickling sense of cold and fear and pain. Not Zoe or Mal. River opened her eyes, picked up the lantern, its light forgotten. She walked forward, used that inner eye.
She found him hunched in the lee of a large boulder, the hood of his parka up, head and shoulders covered in white. He didn’t answer her call; she knelt in front of him slowly, lifted the hood. She whispered his name, touched his cheek.
His eyes flew open. The pain of his sudden grip on her arms reached her even through the numbing cold. “Where the gorram hell have you been, girl? I been searchin’ for hours!”
She dropped the lantern in the snow. “Stop shaking me,” she managed.
“I thought I’d - I thought we’d lost you.” He wouldn’t let go of her arms. She could feel him trembling. There was ice in his eyelashes, in his beard. A gash across his left cheek.
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”
“Aw, hell.” He released her slowly. “Don’t cry, it’ll freeze. Come here outta the wind.” He pulled her into the shelter of the boulder, brushed snow off her. She couldn’t stop the tears. She couldn’t stop smiling.
River turned on the radio. “Mal. I found him.”
“Tell that son of a bitch to stay put, and you too. We’ll come to you.” She heard the relief in the Captain’s terse voice.
She put the radio in her pocket. Felt Jayne’s arm around her. She stared at her boots, the words of explanation caught in her throat. He thrust a flask into her line of sight.
“Drink it.”
She cast an eye sideways at him. His face lost in the hood of his parka. “Don’t be mad.”
“I’m not mad at you, girl. River.” And she could feel he wasn’t angry. He was scared, as scared as she’d been. Maybe he didn’t hate her, after all.
She leaned into his shoulder. They waited, passing the flask between them, sheltered from the wind and snow.
-end
author: aestheticjunkie
challenge: #184 - Snow, Ice or Slush
rating/genre: PG for language. Gen.
characters: River, Jayne, crew.
disclaimer: They all belong to Joss
word count: 964
River had seen snow, had experienced snow twice on Osiris, once during Christmas at the Tam’s cabin, once on a field-trip for school when she was eight, the fluffy flakes floating silently over dusted pines, the world hushed and softened. This was - this was searing wind, the sting of ice hitting her face and hands, her voice lost and smothered by the cold and white. She clutched the compass in her right hand, her left buried in the pocket of her parka. She wished now she’d waited and taken the face covering and gloves Simon had offered her.
“Jayne!” This was useless. There was no rutting way he could hear them calling in this ice storm, this blizzard, this weather from hell and she wished to God she had stayed on the ship, but she just couldn’t. She wanted to help. She wanted to swallow her fear. He’d been gone three hours now, with no radio, no supplies.
“Jayne!” She used that trick she’d learned to project her voice, hoarse now from yelling for so long, the syllables stolen away by the wind. She felt a hand on her arm, looked up, realizing her face was growing numb. Zoe, all but hidden inside the deep fur ruff of her parka’s hood.
“Captain wants you to go back.”
“No.”
“It’s getting dark, River. Let me and Mal handle it.”
“No.” River shook her head. “He thinks I’m out there. I have to find him.” It was just a joke, a stupid joke she and Kaylee had played on him, making him think she’d left Serenity, they were so bored and River feeling fine, feeling in the now after days of haze and darkness. And Jayne concentrating so hard on that field manual he’d picked up last stop at Persephone, hadn’t spoken a word to her in a while, even when she’d stolen a muffin with real blueberries from him that morning. “I have to find him,” she repeated.
Zoe’s eyes didn’t argue, but she shook her head. “The Captain - “
“The Captain can’t stop me, and neither can you.” She didn’t elaborate. She put her head down and consulted the compass, the tiny screen with its neon-green trail, showing her where she’d been. “I’m only on square four of the grid. There are twelve more to cover. I have a lantern, I have the compass, I have my wits today.” She moved forward into the trees. Zoe did not follow.
~~~~~
God, but she was tired. The wind was relentless. She’d lost feeling in her face long ago. Ice crusted the fur of her parka hood, making visibility even more obscure. I will not cry, I will not cry. Jayne where are you? Her lantern cast a wide swathe of light but showed her only driven flakes, flashing white and grey against the darkness of tree trunks. I will not cry.
Her radio crackled. She had to hold it up to her ear to hear anything. “River?”
Simon. She had to answer. “I’m here, Simon!” Her voice almost gone.
“Come back, mei-mei. It’s late.”
A tear froze on her cheek. “I’m sorry Simon. I can’t. Not until I find him.” She turned the radio off. Put the compass in her pocket, the lantern on the ground. Closed her eyes. Opened her mind.
Jayne. . .
She’d never tried this before. Serenity was small. It wasn’t difficult to sense the crew in familiar surroundings. Burdock, small pathetic moon of ice way out in the Black, was vast, this forest was vast, the stinging snow and the constant slam of the wind tore at her senses. But she’d walked the grid and Mal and Zoe had walked theirs, and found nothing. She had to try.
The world behind her eyes flooded white. A pinprick, a slow tickling sense of cold and fear and pain. Not Zoe or Mal. River opened her eyes, picked up the lantern, its light forgotten. She walked forward, used that inner eye.
She found him hunched in the lee of a large boulder, the hood of his parka up, head and shoulders covered in white. He didn’t answer her call; she knelt in front of him slowly, lifted the hood. She whispered his name, touched his cheek.
His eyes flew open. The pain of his sudden grip on her arms reached her even through the numbing cold. “Where the gorram hell have you been, girl? I been searchin’ for hours!”
She dropped the lantern in the snow. “Stop shaking me,” she managed.
“I thought I’d - I thought we’d lost you.” He wouldn’t let go of her arms. She could feel him trembling. There was ice in his eyelashes, in his beard. A gash across his left cheek.
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”
“Aw, hell.” He released her slowly. “Don’t cry, it’ll freeze. Come here outta the wind.” He pulled her into the shelter of the boulder, brushed snow off her. She couldn’t stop the tears. She couldn’t stop smiling.
River turned on the radio. “Mal. I found him.”
“Tell that son of a bitch to stay put, and you too. We’ll come to you.” She heard the relief in the Captain’s terse voice.
She put the radio in her pocket. Felt Jayne’s arm around her. She stared at her boots, the words of explanation caught in her throat. He thrust a flask into her line of sight.
“Drink it.”
She cast an eye sideways at him. His face lost in the hood of his parka. “Don’t be mad.”
“I’m not mad at you, girl. River.” And she could feel he wasn’t angry. He was scared, as scared as she’d been. Maybe he didn’t hate her, after all.
She leaned into his shoulder. They waited, passing the flask between them, sheltered from the wind and snow.
-end