Firefly - From Out of the Blue
Title: From Out of the Blue
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: The characters and settings referred to here are not mine, they belong to Joss. No infringement is intended and no profit is made.
Summary: While planetside, River falls ill. Narrated in first person by an OC, a local woman.
Author's note: Experimenting with a different style in this, the penultimate fic for my 10_hurt_comfort table. Once again, the two of them are in a relationship, but it's fairly new, and the prompt is "Sick". Set more than a year after the movie. Many thanks to geek_mama_2 for beta help and suggestions!
From Out of the Blue
by Hereswith
Minding the store, I was, and it a sullen afternoon, with a fair bit of wind in the air. None but Martha’d been in for hours, and lordy be, my ears still rang from her prattling, so I was meaning to close up and go make me some tea, when the doorbell jingled its tune.
Two girls entered, and I’d recognise most of the youngsters from hereabouts, but these were strangers. The older, she gave me a prompt reply when I greeted them, her smile wide and sunny, while her friend, that had this long, brown shining hair, was a quiet one. They disappeared behind the racks, over to where I keep the dresses, and I let them browse around, but then I heard a clatter and a thud like someone had dropped, pole-axed, and it had me sitting up straight, that did.
“River!”
I got up and went to them fast as I could. It was the long-haired girl down on the floor and I could anticipate what the matter was, the way she cradled her head, so the bushfire heat of her skin against my palm, as I bent to touch her, no more than confirmed it. “River, is it?”
She made to nod, but flinched, her shoulders hunching up, and the other girl, crouched beside us, said, “Yes, she’s River. And I’m Kaylee.”
“Mrs. Flatt. Ada,” I informed them, in turn. “You’ve been out in the fens, River?”
“I went exploring.” River paused, breathing in through her teeth. “It hammers. Like my skull might split.”
I rocked back on my heels and clucked my tongue. “It’s the marsh-fever, dearie.”
Whatever it was Kaylee had believed was the cause, that can’t have been it, for the relief was clear as day on her face, but a new fear soon replaced it. “Is that-she’ll be okay, won’t she?”
Now, that’s how it is with the fever, it hits you quick and hard, that’s the truth, but it’s rare enough it takes a soul, and if it does, it’s the elderly at risk, the already poorly. Or the children. I felt a twinge in my heart, reminded of my own girl, my Falla, who would’ve been about River’s age, had she lived, but there wasn’t time to wax maudlin.
“Don’t you worry,” I answered. “The worst of it should be over by morning.” And I couldn’t well do else, what with River in that pitiful state, so I also said, “Best she gets in bed. I’ve a room to spare.”
It was agreed upon and I had Kaylee lock up the store, while I helped River off the floor. She swayed, I had to grab her or she would’ve toppled, and she was slight and frail-seeming, but she clutched my arm in a bruising grip, muscles wrapped taut around those bird bones. We bore the weight of her between us, Kaylee and me, and led her through to the living quarters at the back. River didn’t complain, though the jostling must’ve hurt her fierce, but she leaned on Kaylee for support as I pulled the bedclothes down. She was pale near to ashen, and when we got her seated on the bed, she sank onto her side, boots and all.
“I’ll fetch Simon,” Kaylee said to her. River mumbled in response and Kaylee added, “The cap’n, too.”
Stepping away from the bed, Kaylee gazed a question. “I’ll watch over her,” I replied. “Take the kitchen door.”
She hurried from the room and I drew the curtains, then removed River’s boots and got her tucked in. She was seized with the shivers, poor thing, her eyes squeezed tight shut. “Just you rest,” I told her. “I’ll get you something to ease that kě pà de headache.”
It’s bitter, that brew, the mixture of herbs makes it so, but it does what it’s intended to, and River swallowed it to the drop, emptying the cup I brought her with desperate greed. She settled against the pillow once more, and I stroked her hair, I sang to her soft, I’m not ashamed to admit it, like she was littler, the songs I used to sing to soothe my daughter.
*
Kaylee returned with the menfolk in tow, and another woman, besides, tall and dark. One of the men had a doctor’s kit, and he was a good sight younger and prettier than our Amos. He had this look about him like he’d fit right in some gentleman’s parlour, but the other fellow, he was a gunman, same as the tall woman, and if they hadn’t been friends of the girls’, I’d have been wary of them.
Which was Simon and which was the captain, I had figured to start. What they were to River, I was busy sorting when she groaned and shifted where she lay, and the two men rushed to her side, their faces painted with a like concern. But Simon, he brushed the dampened hair from her cheek, with a low, “Mèimei,” betraying them as kin.
“Don’t argue,” River replied, her voice reedy, but resolved. “Promise.”
It had me stumped. That was, until I spotted the glance between Simon and the captain, prickly like them blackberry bushes by the garden fence, and I thought, so, that’s the trouble of it, as Simon said, “I promise.”
River stuck her hand from under the covers, groping, and when the captain captured it in his, she continued, “Stay. Both of you.”
“They’d have to throw me out, darlin’,” said the captain.
Since I'd made heads and tails of it by then, the endearment didn't much surprise me, though I can’t say I understood it. He was a rough sort of man, to be sure, and she such a wisp of a girl. But I recalled that whip-cord strength in her, and it had me wondering.
Her brother didn’t seem pleased, but made nothing of it, assuring her instead. “I won’t leave.”
Turning, he seized on me for a bucket-full of questions, and I explained as well as I could about the fever, how it runs its course through the body and there’s nothing to do but weather it out, like a summer storm across the fields. He listened, frowning, then, with some comment about inadequate inoculations, walked over to examine the girl, as though my word couldn’t be trusted. I let it pass, they were outlanders, not used to our ways, and he an outlander doctor, but when he suggested they’d take her back to the ship, I had to put him straight.
“There’ll be none of that.” I must’ve been his elder by a number of years and stern as a parent, I fixed him with an admonishing glare. “Care and quiet, it’s what she needs, not being dragged about the town. And don’t think I’m talking through my hat, young man, I’ve nursed more than my share of marsh-fever sick.”
In the end, I had him convinced, though the shadow on his brow persisted, and his mood wouldn’t lift, I suspected, until River was on her feet.
The captain was perched on the bed, as River had curled up clutching his hand, and he addressed the tall woman, “Zoe.”
“I’ll track down Jayne,” she replied, like he’d spelled out instructions along with her name. “Tell him we’ve been held up. And I’ll see to the cargo.”
Simon asked her to bring some things from their medical supply, and Zoe assented, then quit the room, and I swear, for all she’d been silent previous, you noticed her absence. Kaylee approached Simon, slipping her arm through his to comfort-that’s how I learned they were sweet on each other-and I took myself off, to prepare linens and water for the hours ahead.
*
Evening fell, as cloud-dark as the day had been, and Kaylee helped me make supper. Zoe was by for a while, and that Jayne, a big and blunt-spoken man, and though the rest scarce ate, he cleaned his plate and more.
I sat vigil with them through the night, and if they argued, Simon and the captain, or Mal, as they called him, I never heard it, so that promise was kept. We tended to River, making her as comfortable as we could, and it stirred up hard memories, but I did it willing, and she wasn’t a child, or as delicate in health as Falla had been, she wouldn’t fade away before me.
Still, the illness took a toll. She was often tossing on the bed, and there was once she flailed and twisted something bad, and we couldn’t restrain her, because that set her to a high-pitched shrieking. Simon had the medicine to calm her, but it was difficult, the wait before it did its trick. After it eased, she buried her face in Mal’s shirt, and what he whispered, I couldn’t make out, it wasn’t for any of us, only for her, but he was gentle as you can imagine.
Another time, the fever must have affected her brain, for she spoke to her brother as though he wasn’t in front of her. “They won’t let me see you,” she choked out, a wild grief about her. “The system isn’t stable, the centre will collapse, and you won’t find me.”
I shook my head, it was crazy ramblings to me, but Simon shushed her and replied, like it made a world of sense to him, “I will. I’m here, mèimei. I’m here.”
It isn’t always there’s such strong affection between siblings grown, the Denton sisters down the road, they can’t even act civil, but with River and Simon, you couldn’t mistake the bond.
Late morning, we were flat out exhausted. I’d coaxed Kaylee to go lie on my bed, Simon was in the washroom, and Mal slumped in the armchair, his eyes shut, so I was closest to River when her lashes fluttered open.
The fever had broken, her forehead was cool and dry, and I said, “Hello, River. Do you remember me?”
“Mrs. Flatt,” she affirmed, with a slow blink, and tried to wet her lips. Guessing she was thirsty, I propped her up on the pillow, giving her water to drink, and she said, “Thank you.”
“Don’t mention it,” I replied. Her smile was wan, but genuine, and I lost myself a moment, to the past and a morning when fate had been less kind, then strove to shrug it off, smiling back.
She regarded me, grave of a sudden, and intent. “I’m sorry.”
It startled me to laughter. “What for, dearie?”
“About,” she corrected, her brows snapping sharp together, like her brother’s, but Simon interrupted us, his relieved exclamation rousing Mal from his dozing, and with the to-do that resulted, River didn’t get a chance to say more.
*
I went to the kitchen by and by, putting the kettle on, and that’s where the captain came in search of me. Rumpled and unshaven, he was, but his step was light. “We’re obliged to you, ma’am,” he said. “For taking us in.”
“Coffee?” I asked, and when he accepted, I wiped my fingers on my apron and filled a cup for him. “I did what anyone would.”
“Reckon there’s many would’ve turned us out.” He leaned against the counter, balancing the cup in his hands. “We ain’t got much money, but-”
“I don’t want your money, Captain,” I cut in, and you can be certain I was firm about it. “Seeing your River recovered, that’s payment enough.”
“Well,” he replied, his expression musing. “Least let me mend that fence out back, and if you’ve machinery needin’ repairs, Kaylee will get it done.”
That offer, I didn’t refuse. “I’d be grateful for it.” The sun was streaming through the windows, a stark contrast to the day before, flooding the far corners of the room. I studied Mal as he sipped his coffee, it was the first we’d been alone, and I couldn’t stop the question, though it wasn’t my business, I knew. “A girl like that, how is it-”
“She’s with a man like me?” he stated, and he’d read me right, though I wouldn’t have framed it that harsh. “Didn’t miss the glances, Mrs. Flatt.” It had me embarrassed, but he didn’t seem offended. “Been asking myself that. But it’s her choice, and I ain’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth, long as it lasts.”
He didn’t expect it to, not for her part, and she was young, I couldn’t blame his doubts. “And you?”
His lips curved up crooked, and he didn’t answer me direct, there’s some men would and beat the drum, but he wasn’t one of those. “She’s special,” was what he said. “Real special.”
There was a tale hid in that, these bones of mine fair itched with it, like the thread of a story when you begin to unspool it, but the telling wasn’t mine, and he didn’t invite further conversation about it. I was curious, but held my tongue, and we discussed practical matters, after that.
*
As it was a Saturday, I didn’t have to bother with the store, and I hadn’t planned to go visiting. My guests, they had a shipment to deliver, but it was decided they’d remain until the morning next, for River’s sake, and I didn’t mind it, the house had so sprung to life with the people around, the activity and the voices.
River spent most of the day napping, but when I carried a tray of food I’d cooked to the room, I discovered her awake, though she was too weak to be up and about. The others were elsewhere, on that occasion, and I lingered while she had the soup and the bread.
Finished, she put the bowl aside and plucked at a strand of her hair, grimacing. “It’s tangled.”
“You can clean up proper when you’re healed,” I replied, going to get a brush from the chest of drawers by the door, “but we can work out the knots, meanwhile.”
I settled on the bed and River moved nearer to me to allow the brushing. Though I was careful, the odd tug made her wince some, but I was soon done, her hair smooth as a pelt under my fingers. Lulled by the repetitive motions, I said, “My daughter had hair like yours. Fine and dark.” She stilled, but didn’t speak, and I saved her from asking. “She died in the fever.”
“You loved her very much.”
“I did. Her pa abandoned us, so we only had each other.” I lowered the brush, heaving a sigh. “That’s years ago, now.”
“It isn’t fair. Death,” she said, in a tone of experience. “Not for the dead, or those they leave behind.”
I patted her hand. “Sounds like you’ve seen a heap of it, dearie.”
She bit her lip. “Yes.”
It took me aback, that simple answer, I hadn’t thought she would concur. But she met my gaze, her eyes keen with intelligence and such knowing it unnerved me, like she’d witnessed things no person should have to, and I couldn’t disbelieve her, then, or dismiss it as foolishness.
The threshold creaked, trod upon, and I almost jumped, but it was Mal, in from the yard. “We’ve repaired that fence good as new,” he said, and smiled at River. “You feeling better?”
She nodded. “But I can’t fly. There’s no margin for error and I’m fuzzy, can’t concentrate.”
“You can ride shotgun with me, darlin’,” he replied, rolling his sleeves down to button at the wrist. “It’s been a while since you did.”
The exchange confused me, and River must have caught on to it, for she told me, with an edge of pride, “I’m the ship’s pilot.”
“Oh.” Me, I’d never had call to be travelling off-planet and it seemed awful daunting, going up into the black void of the sky. Even more so to be steering the path. “That must require great skill.”
“She has the skill, all right,” Mal said. “And a talent for it.”
She grinned, at that, but she was worn by the illness, it showed, and her colour was draining. “You won’t improve to do any kind of piloting,” I said, “if you strain yourself. Go on, get back under the covers.”
She opened her mouth, and I fancy it was a measure of how tired she was that she didn’t wind up protesting, just did as she was bid. Rising, I indicated to Mal that he could take my place, and he did.
“You should sleep,” River said, touching his leg. “Or we’ll crash anyway.”
I was heading out with the tray, letting them have their privacy, and the last I overheard was his amused, “Yeah, I s’pose so.”
*
A time after dusk, I noted Simon outside the room. Through the doorway crack, the light was faint, but I could glimpse what it was he beheld: the captain stretched on top of the covers, River nestled against his shoulder, her arm around him like she was shielding him, and both deep in slumber.
“It’s quite the peaceful scene,” I observed, hushed, and Simon glanced at me. “You don’t approve?”
“No,” he said. “For several reasons, but then-there are moments like this, when I can’t resent it. At least Mal and I agree on what’s important. Her happiness.”
“That’s obvious.” I was considering those fevered screams of River’s and her haunted eyes, and it prompted me to ask, “It’s something terrible she’s been through, your sister, hasn’t she?”
He hesitated, but didn’t deny it. “She suffered a severe trauma. That she’s able to cope to the degree she does is more than I could have hoped for.”
Sadness laced it, like what was gained hadn’t been without loss, and sympathy for the girl, and for Simon, welled within me. “She’s a fighter, I’m sure.”
An emotion I couldn’t grasp flitted across his features. “Yes, she is.” He closed the door, carefully, so as not to disturb the two. “Where’s Kaylee? We should return to Serenity for the night.”
“Likely in the kitchen.” I added, with sincere apology, “If I’d extra beds, you’d be welcome to them.”
“It isn’t necessary, Mrs. Flatt. River is out of danger,” he said, “and someone’s with her. I’ll come over tomorrow.”
“Of course,” I replied, and he then took his leave.
*
The night was tranquil, and I slept in past six, when I’m otherwise up, punctual as a clock. But I was alert before Simon arrived, as was Mal. River was abed, fatigued after she’d insisted on washing, and Simon, who’d brought her a change of clothes, went to check on her.
Mal was beside me at the kitchen table, and I said, “You’ll be off right away?”
“Can’t afford more delay,” he replied, “and we’ve imposed on you plenty as it is.”
“Nonsense,” I scoffed, then gestured at the berry pie. “Eat up that slice, and I can soak the pan. No point wasting what’s left.”
He chuckled and reached for it. “Yes, ma’am.”
A little later, Simon and River appeared, and though she was peaked and cautious-footed, she had no patience for fussing. Mal eyed her, and in answer to his scrutiny, she reproved, “I won’t fall over.”
“Could’ve fooled me,” he muttered, and stood, pushing his chair in. “Doc?”
“She says she can manage,” Simon answered.
River made a face at them. “Don’t talk like I’m not here. I’m ready if you are.”
I followed them to the garden gate, and the breeze was mild, the clouds white and lace-thin on the horizon. River halted and tilted her head to the sun, basking unabashed in it, after being cooped up and bedridden. It was Mal, and his, “River?” that drew her attention back to us.
She straightened her neck, and young she might have been, but the look she gave him, it was a woman’s, bold and confident. Special, he’d said, and she was peculiar, I’d not dispute it, a bundle of contradictions. I hadn’t understood it, River and her captain, and it wasn’t that I did yet, not completely, but I realised I was viewing it different. And that look-like she was aware of his doubts, but determined to cure them. He had his hands full with her, as I live, as well as his heart.
Mal and Simon expressed their thanks and wished me farewell, but River, she tarried. “It pained you, having me in the house. In that room. Because of her.”
“Bless me!” It was sober fact, I didn’t sweep it aside, but I was anxious to reassure her. “That pain’s an old, familiar one, and it’s none of your fault. I couldn’t do more for my daughter, but I could help you, and I’m glad for that. So, don’t you fret about it, dŏng ma?” She wavered, as though weighing my words, then acknowledged it with a nod, and I said, in a lighter humour, “Fly safe now.”
“We will.” She stepped forward and pressed a kiss to my cheek that warmed me to the core. “Goodbye, Mrs. Flatt.”
I didn’t go indoors until they were out of sight, the three of them, and in the shank of the evening, that Sunday, I took a bunch of fresh flowers to Falla’s grave, and sat a long time by the stone that marked it. I didn’t ever see them again, Mal and his crew, but I haven’t forgot what it was happened, and on some nights, when the stars shine, I gaze at those bright, twinkling dots, picturing River, and the others, somewhere up there among them.
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: The characters and settings referred to here are not mine, they belong to Joss. No infringement is intended and no profit is made.
Summary: While planetside, River falls ill. Narrated in first person by an OC, a local woman.
Author's note: Experimenting with a different style in this, the penultimate fic for my 10_hurt_comfort table. Once again, the two of them are in a relationship, but it's fairly new, and the prompt is "Sick". Set more than a year after the movie. Many thanks to geek_mama_2 for beta help and suggestions!
From Out of the Blue
by Hereswith
Minding the store, I was, and it a sullen afternoon, with a fair bit of wind in the air. None but Martha’d been in for hours, and lordy be, my ears still rang from her prattling, so I was meaning to close up and go make me some tea, when the doorbell jingled its tune.
Two girls entered, and I’d recognise most of the youngsters from hereabouts, but these were strangers. The older, she gave me a prompt reply when I greeted them, her smile wide and sunny, while her friend, that had this long, brown shining hair, was a quiet one. They disappeared behind the racks, over to where I keep the dresses, and I let them browse around, but then I heard a clatter and a thud like someone had dropped, pole-axed, and it had me sitting up straight, that did.
“River!”
I got up and went to them fast as I could. It was the long-haired girl down on the floor and I could anticipate what the matter was, the way she cradled her head, so the bushfire heat of her skin against my palm, as I bent to touch her, no more than confirmed it. “River, is it?”
She made to nod, but flinched, her shoulders hunching up, and the other girl, crouched beside us, said, “Yes, she’s River. And I’m Kaylee.”
“Mrs. Flatt. Ada,” I informed them, in turn. “You’ve been out in the fens, River?”
“I went exploring.” River paused, breathing in through her teeth. “It hammers. Like my skull might split.”
I rocked back on my heels and clucked my tongue. “It’s the marsh-fever, dearie.”
Whatever it was Kaylee had believed was the cause, that can’t have been it, for the relief was clear as day on her face, but a new fear soon replaced it. “Is that-she’ll be okay, won’t she?”
Now, that’s how it is with the fever, it hits you quick and hard, that’s the truth, but it’s rare enough it takes a soul, and if it does, it’s the elderly at risk, the already poorly. Or the children. I felt a twinge in my heart, reminded of my own girl, my Falla, who would’ve been about River’s age, had she lived, but there wasn’t time to wax maudlin.
“Don’t you worry,” I answered. “The worst of it should be over by morning.” And I couldn’t well do else, what with River in that pitiful state, so I also said, “Best she gets in bed. I’ve a room to spare.”
It was agreed upon and I had Kaylee lock up the store, while I helped River off the floor. She swayed, I had to grab her or she would’ve toppled, and she was slight and frail-seeming, but she clutched my arm in a bruising grip, muscles wrapped taut around those bird bones. We bore the weight of her between us, Kaylee and me, and led her through to the living quarters at the back. River didn’t complain, though the jostling must’ve hurt her fierce, but she leaned on Kaylee for support as I pulled the bedclothes down. She was pale near to ashen, and when we got her seated on the bed, she sank onto her side, boots and all.
“I’ll fetch Simon,” Kaylee said to her. River mumbled in response and Kaylee added, “The cap’n, too.”
Stepping away from the bed, Kaylee gazed a question. “I’ll watch over her,” I replied. “Take the kitchen door.”
She hurried from the room and I drew the curtains, then removed River’s boots and got her tucked in. She was seized with the shivers, poor thing, her eyes squeezed tight shut. “Just you rest,” I told her. “I’ll get you something to ease that kě pà de headache.”
It’s bitter, that brew, the mixture of herbs makes it so, but it does what it’s intended to, and River swallowed it to the drop, emptying the cup I brought her with desperate greed. She settled against the pillow once more, and I stroked her hair, I sang to her soft, I’m not ashamed to admit it, like she was littler, the songs I used to sing to soothe my daughter.
*
Kaylee returned with the menfolk in tow, and another woman, besides, tall and dark. One of the men had a doctor’s kit, and he was a good sight younger and prettier than our Amos. He had this look about him like he’d fit right in some gentleman’s parlour, but the other fellow, he was a gunman, same as the tall woman, and if they hadn’t been friends of the girls’, I’d have been wary of them.
Which was Simon and which was the captain, I had figured to start. What they were to River, I was busy sorting when she groaned and shifted where she lay, and the two men rushed to her side, their faces painted with a like concern. But Simon, he brushed the dampened hair from her cheek, with a low, “Mèimei,” betraying them as kin.
“Don’t argue,” River replied, her voice reedy, but resolved. “Promise.”
It had me stumped. That was, until I spotted the glance between Simon and the captain, prickly like them blackberry bushes by the garden fence, and I thought, so, that’s the trouble of it, as Simon said, “I promise.”
River stuck her hand from under the covers, groping, and when the captain captured it in his, she continued, “Stay. Both of you.”
“They’d have to throw me out, darlin’,” said the captain.
Since I'd made heads and tails of it by then, the endearment didn't much surprise me, though I can’t say I understood it. He was a rough sort of man, to be sure, and she such a wisp of a girl. But I recalled that whip-cord strength in her, and it had me wondering.
Her brother didn’t seem pleased, but made nothing of it, assuring her instead. “I won’t leave.”
Turning, he seized on me for a bucket-full of questions, and I explained as well as I could about the fever, how it runs its course through the body and there’s nothing to do but weather it out, like a summer storm across the fields. He listened, frowning, then, with some comment about inadequate inoculations, walked over to examine the girl, as though my word couldn’t be trusted. I let it pass, they were outlanders, not used to our ways, and he an outlander doctor, but when he suggested they’d take her back to the ship, I had to put him straight.
“There’ll be none of that.” I must’ve been his elder by a number of years and stern as a parent, I fixed him with an admonishing glare. “Care and quiet, it’s what she needs, not being dragged about the town. And don’t think I’m talking through my hat, young man, I’ve nursed more than my share of marsh-fever sick.”
In the end, I had him convinced, though the shadow on his brow persisted, and his mood wouldn’t lift, I suspected, until River was on her feet.
The captain was perched on the bed, as River had curled up clutching his hand, and he addressed the tall woman, “Zoe.”
“I’ll track down Jayne,” she replied, like he’d spelled out instructions along with her name. “Tell him we’ve been held up. And I’ll see to the cargo.”
Simon asked her to bring some things from their medical supply, and Zoe assented, then quit the room, and I swear, for all she’d been silent previous, you noticed her absence. Kaylee approached Simon, slipping her arm through his to comfort-that’s how I learned they were sweet on each other-and I took myself off, to prepare linens and water for the hours ahead.
*
Evening fell, as cloud-dark as the day had been, and Kaylee helped me make supper. Zoe was by for a while, and that Jayne, a big and blunt-spoken man, and though the rest scarce ate, he cleaned his plate and more.
I sat vigil with them through the night, and if they argued, Simon and the captain, or Mal, as they called him, I never heard it, so that promise was kept. We tended to River, making her as comfortable as we could, and it stirred up hard memories, but I did it willing, and she wasn’t a child, or as delicate in health as Falla had been, she wouldn’t fade away before me.
Still, the illness took a toll. She was often tossing on the bed, and there was once she flailed and twisted something bad, and we couldn’t restrain her, because that set her to a high-pitched shrieking. Simon had the medicine to calm her, but it was difficult, the wait before it did its trick. After it eased, she buried her face in Mal’s shirt, and what he whispered, I couldn’t make out, it wasn’t for any of us, only for her, but he was gentle as you can imagine.
Another time, the fever must have affected her brain, for she spoke to her brother as though he wasn’t in front of her. “They won’t let me see you,” she choked out, a wild grief about her. “The system isn’t stable, the centre will collapse, and you won’t find me.”
I shook my head, it was crazy ramblings to me, but Simon shushed her and replied, like it made a world of sense to him, “I will. I’m here, mèimei. I’m here.”
It isn’t always there’s such strong affection between siblings grown, the Denton sisters down the road, they can’t even act civil, but with River and Simon, you couldn’t mistake the bond.
Late morning, we were flat out exhausted. I’d coaxed Kaylee to go lie on my bed, Simon was in the washroom, and Mal slumped in the armchair, his eyes shut, so I was closest to River when her lashes fluttered open.
The fever had broken, her forehead was cool and dry, and I said, “Hello, River. Do you remember me?”
“Mrs. Flatt,” she affirmed, with a slow blink, and tried to wet her lips. Guessing she was thirsty, I propped her up on the pillow, giving her water to drink, and she said, “Thank you.”
“Don’t mention it,” I replied. Her smile was wan, but genuine, and I lost myself a moment, to the past and a morning when fate had been less kind, then strove to shrug it off, smiling back.
She regarded me, grave of a sudden, and intent. “I’m sorry.”
It startled me to laughter. “What for, dearie?”
“About,” she corrected, her brows snapping sharp together, like her brother’s, but Simon interrupted us, his relieved exclamation rousing Mal from his dozing, and with the to-do that resulted, River didn’t get a chance to say more.
*
I went to the kitchen by and by, putting the kettle on, and that’s where the captain came in search of me. Rumpled and unshaven, he was, but his step was light. “We’re obliged to you, ma’am,” he said. “For taking us in.”
“Coffee?” I asked, and when he accepted, I wiped my fingers on my apron and filled a cup for him. “I did what anyone would.”
“Reckon there’s many would’ve turned us out.” He leaned against the counter, balancing the cup in his hands. “We ain’t got much money, but-”
“I don’t want your money, Captain,” I cut in, and you can be certain I was firm about it. “Seeing your River recovered, that’s payment enough.”
“Well,” he replied, his expression musing. “Least let me mend that fence out back, and if you’ve machinery needin’ repairs, Kaylee will get it done.”
That offer, I didn’t refuse. “I’d be grateful for it.” The sun was streaming through the windows, a stark contrast to the day before, flooding the far corners of the room. I studied Mal as he sipped his coffee, it was the first we’d been alone, and I couldn’t stop the question, though it wasn’t my business, I knew. “A girl like that, how is it-”
“She’s with a man like me?” he stated, and he’d read me right, though I wouldn’t have framed it that harsh. “Didn’t miss the glances, Mrs. Flatt.” It had me embarrassed, but he didn’t seem offended. “Been asking myself that. But it’s her choice, and I ain’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth, long as it lasts.”
He didn’t expect it to, not for her part, and she was young, I couldn’t blame his doubts. “And you?”
His lips curved up crooked, and he didn’t answer me direct, there’s some men would and beat the drum, but he wasn’t one of those. “She’s special,” was what he said. “Real special.”
There was a tale hid in that, these bones of mine fair itched with it, like the thread of a story when you begin to unspool it, but the telling wasn’t mine, and he didn’t invite further conversation about it. I was curious, but held my tongue, and we discussed practical matters, after that.
*
As it was a Saturday, I didn’t have to bother with the store, and I hadn’t planned to go visiting. My guests, they had a shipment to deliver, but it was decided they’d remain until the morning next, for River’s sake, and I didn’t mind it, the house had so sprung to life with the people around, the activity and the voices.
River spent most of the day napping, but when I carried a tray of food I’d cooked to the room, I discovered her awake, though she was too weak to be up and about. The others were elsewhere, on that occasion, and I lingered while she had the soup and the bread.
Finished, she put the bowl aside and plucked at a strand of her hair, grimacing. “It’s tangled.”
“You can clean up proper when you’re healed,” I replied, going to get a brush from the chest of drawers by the door, “but we can work out the knots, meanwhile.”
I settled on the bed and River moved nearer to me to allow the brushing. Though I was careful, the odd tug made her wince some, but I was soon done, her hair smooth as a pelt under my fingers. Lulled by the repetitive motions, I said, “My daughter had hair like yours. Fine and dark.” She stilled, but didn’t speak, and I saved her from asking. “She died in the fever.”
“You loved her very much.”
“I did. Her pa abandoned us, so we only had each other.” I lowered the brush, heaving a sigh. “That’s years ago, now.”
“It isn’t fair. Death,” she said, in a tone of experience. “Not for the dead, or those they leave behind.”
I patted her hand. “Sounds like you’ve seen a heap of it, dearie.”
She bit her lip. “Yes.”
It took me aback, that simple answer, I hadn’t thought she would concur. But she met my gaze, her eyes keen with intelligence and such knowing it unnerved me, like she’d witnessed things no person should have to, and I couldn’t disbelieve her, then, or dismiss it as foolishness.
The threshold creaked, trod upon, and I almost jumped, but it was Mal, in from the yard. “We’ve repaired that fence good as new,” he said, and smiled at River. “You feeling better?”
She nodded. “But I can’t fly. There’s no margin for error and I’m fuzzy, can’t concentrate.”
“You can ride shotgun with me, darlin’,” he replied, rolling his sleeves down to button at the wrist. “It’s been a while since you did.”
The exchange confused me, and River must have caught on to it, for she told me, with an edge of pride, “I’m the ship’s pilot.”
“Oh.” Me, I’d never had call to be travelling off-planet and it seemed awful daunting, going up into the black void of the sky. Even more so to be steering the path. “That must require great skill.”
“She has the skill, all right,” Mal said. “And a talent for it.”
She grinned, at that, but she was worn by the illness, it showed, and her colour was draining. “You won’t improve to do any kind of piloting,” I said, “if you strain yourself. Go on, get back under the covers.”
She opened her mouth, and I fancy it was a measure of how tired she was that she didn’t wind up protesting, just did as she was bid. Rising, I indicated to Mal that he could take my place, and he did.
“You should sleep,” River said, touching his leg. “Or we’ll crash anyway.”
I was heading out with the tray, letting them have their privacy, and the last I overheard was his amused, “Yeah, I s’pose so.”
*
A time after dusk, I noted Simon outside the room. Through the doorway crack, the light was faint, but I could glimpse what it was he beheld: the captain stretched on top of the covers, River nestled against his shoulder, her arm around him like she was shielding him, and both deep in slumber.
“It’s quite the peaceful scene,” I observed, hushed, and Simon glanced at me. “You don’t approve?”
“No,” he said. “For several reasons, but then-there are moments like this, when I can’t resent it. At least Mal and I agree on what’s important. Her happiness.”
“That’s obvious.” I was considering those fevered screams of River’s and her haunted eyes, and it prompted me to ask, “It’s something terrible she’s been through, your sister, hasn’t she?”
He hesitated, but didn’t deny it. “She suffered a severe trauma. That she’s able to cope to the degree she does is more than I could have hoped for.”
Sadness laced it, like what was gained hadn’t been without loss, and sympathy for the girl, and for Simon, welled within me. “She’s a fighter, I’m sure.”
An emotion I couldn’t grasp flitted across his features. “Yes, she is.” He closed the door, carefully, so as not to disturb the two. “Where’s Kaylee? We should return to Serenity for the night.”
“Likely in the kitchen.” I added, with sincere apology, “If I’d extra beds, you’d be welcome to them.”
“It isn’t necessary, Mrs. Flatt. River is out of danger,” he said, “and someone’s with her. I’ll come over tomorrow.”
“Of course,” I replied, and he then took his leave.
*
The night was tranquil, and I slept in past six, when I’m otherwise up, punctual as a clock. But I was alert before Simon arrived, as was Mal. River was abed, fatigued after she’d insisted on washing, and Simon, who’d brought her a change of clothes, went to check on her.
Mal was beside me at the kitchen table, and I said, “You’ll be off right away?”
“Can’t afford more delay,” he replied, “and we’ve imposed on you plenty as it is.”
“Nonsense,” I scoffed, then gestured at the berry pie. “Eat up that slice, and I can soak the pan. No point wasting what’s left.”
He chuckled and reached for it. “Yes, ma’am.”
A little later, Simon and River appeared, and though she was peaked and cautious-footed, she had no patience for fussing. Mal eyed her, and in answer to his scrutiny, she reproved, “I won’t fall over.”
“Could’ve fooled me,” he muttered, and stood, pushing his chair in. “Doc?”
“She says she can manage,” Simon answered.
River made a face at them. “Don’t talk like I’m not here. I’m ready if you are.”
I followed them to the garden gate, and the breeze was mild, the clouds white and lace-thin on the horizon. River halted and tilted her head to the sun, basking unabashed in it, after being cooped up and bedridden. It was Mal, and his, “River?” that drew her attention back to us.
She straightened her neck, and young she might have been, but the look she gave him, it was a woman’s, bold and confident. Special, he’d said, and she was peculiar, I’d not dispute it, a bundle of contradictions. I hadn’t understood it, River and her captain, and it wasn’t that I did yet, not completely, but I realised I was viewing it different. And that look-like she was aware of his doubts, but determined to cure them. He had his hands full with her, as I live, as well as his heart.
Mal and Simon expressed their thanks and wished me farewell, but River, she tarried. “It pained you, having me in the house. In that room. Because of her.”
“Bless me!” It was sober fact, I didn’t sweep it aside, but I was anxious to reassure her. “That pain’s an old, familiar one, and it’s none of your fault. I couldn’t do more for my daughter, but I could help you, and I’m glad for that. So, don’t you fret about it, dŏng ma?” She wavered, as though weighing my words, then acknowledged it with a nod, and I said, in a lighter humour, “Fly safe now.”
“We will.” She stepped forward and pressed a kiss to my cheek that warmed me to the core. “Goodbye, Mrs. Flatt.”
I didn’t go indoors until they were out of sight, the three of them, and in the shank of the evening, that Sunday, I took a bunch of fresh flowers to Falla’s grave, and sat a long time by the stone that marked it. I didn’t ever see them again, Mal and his crew, but I haven’t forgot what it was happened, and on some nights, when the stars shine, I gaze at those bright, twinkling dots, picturing River, and the others, somewhere up there among them.