A Friend and Father
Title: A Friend and Father
Author: Megan [__dream_on]
Category: Sushi!fic - short story
Word Count: 4,186
Timeline: After “Just Another Day in the Black” by isha_libran and before “So This Is Love” by goldy_dollar
Characters: River-centric, but the rest of the crew and a few new characters are mentioned/make appearances
Pairings: It’s more a general fic than a pairing one, but Simon/Kaylee and Mal/Inara - plus others
Rating: PG-13
Warning: Some massive angst in the middle, superfluff and comedy elsewhere.
Disclaimer: Joss owns most of the characters & the ‘verse. terimaru owns the fishies and hfleming8 owns a few of the kiddies. I’m just borrowing all of them to entertain the masses.
Summary: River gleams a future that isn’t as bright as it seems.
Author’s Notes: Written because I got inspired listening to Phantom of the Opera (as has been known to happen - especially with that show. GUH). Title’s from “Wishing You Were Somehow Here Again” from that show. terimaru did the beta and sent me precious feedback to make it this gorgeous and fan-freaking-tastic.
A little side-note, simply because it amuses me: Kuài is Chinese for “chopped meat or fish”, according to the English-Chinese dictionary I have.
“You were once a friend and father then my world was shattered.”
River could remember the years that passed with remarkable clarity. She remembered the exact moment that Mal and Inara had built a house and settled in with their two children. She remembered the way the house smelled after the crew helped decorated as a housewarming present. She remembered how long it took Simon’s house to be built because he kept going out to the site and measuring every brick, to ensure it was exactly as he’d requested. She remembered the day Simon proposed to Kaylee, the way she’d smiled with tears in her eyes before accepting. She could even remember the day she first felt out of place when standing next to her brother.
She’d been living with Mal and Inara as a live-in babysitter, though she often liked to pretend she was their daughter. She’d even slipped into the habit of occasionally calling Mal “Daddy” and he never bothered to correct her. He liked to play that game, too. The people of Paraiso never mentioned the somewhat interesting living arrangement taking place - they’d grown to consider the entire Serenity crew as their own. What they did (and often) comment about was the fact that River was a twenty-seven-year-old single woman. In places this far on the rim, girls married young and had children. Her beauty, they said, was being wasted.
She’d known Hank Sanders for a number of years. His parents had originally been from Paraiso and when they died, he’d inherited the house they rented out in town. He always used to say that the central planets never suited him. He moved into the house and did odd jobs in town. One of those jobs had placed him on the crew that built Mal and Inara’s house. The house that River fell so in love with, she often used to exclaim that she’d never leave it.
It was his hands that fascinated her. They were so different from Mal’s and Simon’s. Mal’s were rough and callused, but if he wasn’t hauling cargo or reaching for his gun, he didn’t do much work with them. He’d even taken to using some of Inara’s fancy hand crèmes when he thought she wouldn’t notice.
Simon’s hands were delicate. They had to be to do the kind of work he did. He kept his well moisturized and protected, always choosing to talk a problem out rather than fight.
River often used to wonder if Hank’s hands were like Jayne’s, but Jayne had never grown close to her. Even after he married and settled down on the outskirts of town, he’d always kept River at a distance. That wasn’t to say that he didn’t bring his pretty little wife over for holiday festivities, often held at Mal and Inara’s place. He was always as polite as he could manage and he usually brought her a gift - she had a whole collection of hand-knitted sweaters now - but they’d never gotten affectionate with each other. She couldn’t remember a time she’d even touched Jayne’s hands.
Hank’s hands were big, callused and they creaked when he moved them. He was only two years her senior, but arthritis had set in some time ago. It was an interesting feature on him. He was taller than Mal, though not as tall as Jayne (no one was ever as tall as Jayne) with a head full of golden blonde hair. His eyes were the color of a gun barrel, but much more warm. His teeth were clean and straight and white and often reminded River of the picket fence they’d put up in the front yard. His hands, so old and weathered seemed so out of place on someone young and handsome.
He liked to play with Alleyne and Matthew, and Mal used to invite him over for drinks on Friday nights, where he was just as charming to Inara as a gentleman should be. Mal took a liking to him right away.
What River liked most about Hank was that she couldn’t read him as easily as she could everyone else. Some days she’d linger in the house, cleaning and cooking to keep herself busy, just so she wouldn’t have to go outside and hear the thoughts of everyone passing by. Hank liked to find excuses to stay with her on those days, making her smile and sometimes laugh. But it wasn’t until one of the town dances that she realized she loved him.
Mal had urged her to go, pointing out that Hank would be there and she’d promised him a dance. As much as she wanted to go over to Jayne’s and see if he’d teach her to knit, she went. The instant Hank’s hands touched her, she knew she was lost. They’d danced every dance that night and when it was over, he walked her home and kissed her goodnight on the porch. Three days later, he asked Mal and Simon for permission to marry her.
She was thirty-two years old when she marched down the isle, arm in arm with Simon. Mal was the best man. Kaylee, Inara and Zoë all bridesmaids. Alleyne was the flower girl and Matthew was the ring bearer, even though both of them were a little too old for those roles. It was a beautiful ceremony - even Jayne cried.
That had been six years ago. It was still astonishing to her that she’d been married for six years, living in the house that had belonged to Hank’s parents without Mal, Inara, Alleyne or Matthew’s constant companionship.
The house was beautiful - Hank had put more manual labor into fixing it up, making sure it was perfect, than any other project he busied himself with. He worked himself to the bone to provide for her. He always said he wanted to make sure she had everything she ever wanted, but most of the time, she had much more than she’d wanted. Still, it was one of the things she loved the most about him, especially when he brought her back a present - even though there was no real occasion for getting her one.
“Just because,” he’d say and gently kiss her lips, one hand on her hip and one hand toying with the ends of her hair. And she always knew that what he really meant to say was, “Just because I love you.”
River had spent two years in their house, spending most days alone. It was in those two years that Simon and Kaylee had their fourth and fifth children. River still wasn’t sure if it was the birth of her nieces or the sparkle in Hank’s eyes ever time he held the newborn twins that caused a desire to burn in her belly. She’d practically exhausted her husband in the three months it took to conceive their daughter, but he’d never once complained. And she’d never seen a man so happy as when she told him they were pregnant, even after she’d explained the odds of having twins were greater than those of a single birth, since twins ran in the Tam family.
But moments like that were never built to last. It’s when people become so absorbed in their happiness that they don’t see anything else. She and Hank had never fought much. With his strong, silent ways and a scowl that could darken the brightest room, River had never felt the need to push his buttons. It wasn’t like Simon and Kaylee’s relationship - where, even after six children, they could find some little word to fight over. The fights never lasted long and when people questioned Kaylee about them, she often remarked that the spats were just to blow off steam.
”With six lil’ ones tuggin’ at ya all day long, ya can’t help but yell ‘bout somethin’.”
Comments like that always made River a bit curious as to why Kaylee would allow herself to become pregnant again - with number seven. But the second she stepped foot in their house, she was overwhelmed by the love. It filled the air the way that humidity did. It was tangible and it stuck to you, followed you no matter where you walked and sometimes made it hard to breathe. As much as it was uncomfortable, it was intoxicating. And it explained better than words could as to why her brother had so many children.
Brooke was born on a Sunday afternoon when all the townsfolk were supposed to be in church. Simon delivered her in Simon’s clinic. Hank paced outside the door, too frightened to come in. River couldn’t blame him. She’d been frightened, too. When she hit her six-month mark, she’d started dreaming about death. She’d made weekly appointments with Simon, often barging in on him at home, just to be certain her baby wasn’t dying.
The delivery had been smooth. River had known more pain in her life and was relieved when Brooke was healthy and beautiful. Like her father, Brooke had no intentions of letting River read her thoughts. And while parenting would have been easier if River could know exactly what Brooke wanted the moment she wanted it, she didn’t mind the hard work. She enjoyed discovering what made her daughter laugh and smile. She endured everything else with her strength and grace. She seemed just happy to have her daughter at all.
It was on Brooke’s third birthday that Mal caused a commotion in town. One of Inara’s old clients had been aboard a transport ship that had to stop for repairs at Kaylee’s shop. He’d recognized Kaylee right off the bat, even though she was covered in engine grease and had five children running wild around the store, one baby screaming at the top of its lungs in his nanny’s arms and a belly that was obviously pregnant. And she’d recognized him as well.
The second Kaylee had uttered the words “Atherton Wing” to Mal she realized she probably shouldn’t have. He did need to know, especially since she’d made the mistake of rubbing it in Atherton’s nose that Inara had married the Captain and they were living happily ever after with two children - the eldest of which had gone off for fancy schooling on Sihnon. He had simply sneered in her direction and stomped off. And Kaylee had feared he’d stomp off to find Inara.
She’d sent Leela, her oldest daughter, to get Uncle Mal and bring him to the shop. She would have gone herself, but Kaylee wasn’t fool enough to believe that she, as pregnant as she was, could run fast enough. When Leela had appeared at Mal’s door, out of breath and panting something about Kaylee needing him, he hadn’t hesitated. He’d automatically assumed the worst - that something was wrong with the baby - and, after telling Inara to get Simon, he’d run as fast as his feet would carry him to rescue her.
But, as it turned out, it was Mal that needed the rescuing. It was Brooke’s fourth birthday and all the child could do was cling to her father’s leg and ask, again, why her mother wasn’t smiling. In the four years that Brooke had been alive, River had had a hard time not smiling when her daughter was around. She’d take one look at Brooke’s dark hair and her gun-steel eyes and break into a smile, knowing that she had someone here who was the perfect combination between her and Hank.
There were always a few moments when a shadow crossed her face because a premonition struck her that wasn’t as fun-filled as she would have liked.
Brooke had only seen her mother cry once that she could remember. They’d been playing feds and robbers (Brooke always made her mother be the fed - she never did like being the bad guy in games) and River froze just as Brooke was shooting her so she could get away with the loot. Instead of chasing after her, like Brooke had expected her mother to do, River crumbled to the floor and started sobbing, her hands curled into her hair.
Later that night, when Hank asked her what had happened, River had explained that Zoë’s grief had caught her square in the chest. It’d hit her so hard that she couldn’t breathe and before she could speak, tears filled her throat and threatened to drown her if she didn’t get them out. Hank had pulled her against his chest and not said another word, but River felt a stirring in her heart that reminded her he loved her for being just like this - for feeling everyone’s pain.
She was an unusually happy woman on Avery. For all the pain, suffering and uncertainty she went through as a teenager, she felt she needed to make up for it. But on Brooke’s fourth birthday, she let the pain overwhelm her and she left her beautiful home, wrapped in a blanket Jayne had knitted her years ago, and pounded on Inara’s door.
Even as she waited for the door to open, River was in awe at how beautiful the house still was. Hank had done some minor repairs, but it still managed to look brand new - just as it always did. Matthew answered the door and River would have noticed how tall he was getting if she’d let herself swim through the haze she was in. Instead, she let him lead her up the stairs to Inara’s bedroom.
Inara was on the bed, curled into a ball, the knuckles of one hand pressed against her mouth. She was awake and River sucked in a breath, struggling to breathe through the smog of grief that suffocated the room. It did no good. She dropped her frame into an armchair against the wall - his armchair - and leaned back, letting the smell of leather and gunpowder overwhelm her until the tears poured from her eyes.
River noticed that Inara didn’t move from the bed, barely blinked an eye to acknowledge River’s pain. Her own was so overpowering that she could barely think of anything else. Her mind seemed on repeat: I caused this. I caused this. It’s my fault. It’s my fault.
It took River by surprise that their minds would be filled with such similar thoughts. She couldn’t articulate her feelings. She’d long since learned that riddles weren’t appreciated and she’d trained herself out of speaking in such a way - despite the fact that they never seemed to phase Hank, who always knew what she was saying. But without her riddles now, she didn’t know how to say anything.
She managed one, strangled word, “Daddy.”
River spent the rest of the day like that, sobbing into Mal’s chair while Inara stayed curled up on the bed, silent, her tears spent. River was so exhausted by the crying that she didn’t fight Hank when he came to get her, and carried her home. She didn’t tell him that she had to stay, had to somehow tell Inara that it wasn’t Inara’s fault he was dead. She had to stay there until Inara knew. Until Inara knew that she could have prevented it if she hadn’t been so wrapped up in Brooke’s third birthday.
It’d been sunny, unusual for their winter months which were often filled with rain and thunderstorms. Brooke danced around in a dress her Aunt Zoë had given her, humming a tune in the gorgeous voice of hers - the reason her father often pulled her into his lap and said, “Sing to me, songbird.” River was in the middle of baking Brooke’s cake, expecting her guests to come. She’d bent over to check the cake in the oven when it hit her. Guns. Bullets. Screaming. Mal. And then black.
She’d swooned a bit from the force of what was whizzing through her brain. It made her lightheaded and weak and she gripped the countertops for support. But instead of running as fast as she could to Simon, she stayed home, made the cake, sang “Happy Birthday”, opened presents, put Brooke to bed when she fell asleep on the couch, curled in her father’s arms.
It was just before her own bedtime when Zoë pounded on her door. The rain had come at last and Zoë was soaking wet, but it didn’t seem to register with her. Her eyes were wide and River was hit immediately with fear. Zoë was afraid.
When she told her that Mal had been shot, she’d run all the way to Simon’s clinic, her face and hands pressed against the glass of the window, but she never went in. She’d already let him die. She’d stood there for hours, the pain building in her chest, but she didn’t cry.
She didn’t cry when Kaylee led Inara out, taking her back home and promising to wave Alleyne at school to let her know the news.
She didn’t cry even when she saw Jayne burst into tears and bury his face in his wife’s neck, clinging to her for comfort. She didn’t cry at the funeral when Zoë held onto Matthew and sobbed into his hair. She didn’t cry.
She didn’t cry for a year. She put on a happy mask, but she slept with her back to Hank at night, brushing off any attempt he made to talk to her, hold her, or make love to her.
She spent hours staring into her goldfish bowl that held one little fish, Kuài, one of the surviving offspring of Sushi and Sashimi’s broods. Brooke only asked her father once why her mother loved a silly fish so much - you couldn’t pet a fish, or kiss a fish, and it couldn’t kiss you. Hank had replied simply with, “Her father loved that fish.”
The night of Brooke’s fourth birthday, when Hank carried her home, River laid in bed, staring up at the ceiling and wondering how she was supposed to go on with her life. How could she, the most talented woman in the ‘verse, live with herself? She was given a gift, the gift to save everyone she cared about, and she couldn’t do it. Grief choked her that night. She didn’t feel anything except loss. The loss of Malcolm Reynolds. A man who’d been her friend and, eventually, her father, for twenty years.
~*~*~*~*~
River woke with a start, her heart pounding in her chest so hard it threatened to burst though her ribcage. She was crying. Her skin felt like it was on fire and each tear that fell onto her bare skin felt as though it might sizzle there. She kicked off her covers and swung her legs off her bed, letting her bare feet feel the humming of Serenity beneath them - something that almost always comforted her.
She knew that Mal was at the wheel, she could feel him there; hear him humming in his head a song that struck her as familiar. And then her dream rushed back to her. Songbird. Memories that didn’t seem to belong to her flooded her mind and knocked the grate out from under her feet. She screamed out as her knees came in contact with the metal, her hands gripping her head. It hurt so badly it felt as though it might split in two and pour all those awful memories onto the floor in front of her.
But they weren’t all awful. Some of them caused an ache in her heart, where it seemed as though something was missing. Maybe he was missing. Maybe Brooke was missing. But how can you miss something you’ve never had?
She was helped up to her feet by Mal’s strong and certain hands. He held her by the shoulders, his eyes full of concern. One hand brushed her hair out of her face and she met his gaze, stared deep into his blue eyes and felt her heart tremble. He was her father. She loved him and she felt the way his heart swelled when he was proud of her - just like a father’s would. That love would be the thing that kept them all together. They were the glue in this family - just as she’d promised. She wouldn’t let him down.
A smile spread across her face and she stepped a bit closer to him, pushing herself onto her tiptoes and pressing a kiss to his lips, something she’d never quite done before. “I love you…Daddy.” Her voice was soft and sweet, vulnerable like a child’s.
Mal’s eyes, softened into that loving, tender look he usually reserved for Kaylee when she needed him to lift her spirits - one that he often felt was a bit too mushy for River’s sake. She’d always been content to just smile and sit in silence with their shoulders touching.
He opened his mouth to respond, but the words filled her head before he spoke and she didn’t need him to say them. Instead, she held up a hand to stop him and turned on her heel, heading for the unoccupied shuttle with a very simple explanation.
”There’s just something I have to do.”
His words were still in her head when she took to the sky, trusting that her gift would get her to him and give her the chance to stop Mal’s future from being cut short. I love you, too, River.
~*~*~*~*~
She didn’t come back for three days. Mal had paced all over Serenity, anxious and worried. The only comfort he took was in Inara’s arms, when she’d run her fingers through his hair and whisper to him in her soothing tones.
Mal had managed to put on a strong face for his crew, never admitting that he didn’t know where River had taken the shuttle or what she was doing. He’d simply tell them that he’d sent her on a special mission and she’d return shortly. Only Inara knew the truth. Only Inara understood why he was so wound up.
They’d been watching the vid screen, a show that Kaylee had practically begged to watch. No one else was really all that interested in what appeared to be some sort of soap opera, but there wasn’t much else to do on the ship at present. And, somehow, the shuttle he shared with Inara had been turned into the new viewing room.
“We interrupt this programming to bring you breaking news,” said a man with his hair perfectly combed, wearing a tux and sounding much too self-important. Mal hated him right away.
”Aw! Come on! We’s just ‘bout to see who killed Tanya!” Kaylee exclaimed and tossed a chip at the screen by way of protest.
”I betcha it was Darrell.” Jayne spoke with confidence, as if he’d been in the room with the writers as they’d scripted it.
”Nuh-uh! Darrell loves her!” Kaylee responded, her voice a bit of a whine. Mal turned his gaze to their fishbowl and rolled his eyes. He wasn’t going to be able to take much more of this.
When he turned back around to the screen, it flashed a picture of Atherton Wing. His eyes widened in surprise and his gaze shifted to Inara. She’d turned pale as a sheet.
Kaylee and Jayne’s prattle still covered the words of the pompous news anchor and Mal was pretty sure he was going to have to be the one to stop it. Simon looked practically asleep, with one arm around Kaylee’s shoulders and his chin tucked to his chest. Mal wasn’t too certain where Zoë had run off to, or even when she’d left.
“Nee mun doh BEE-jway!”
The shuttle instantly fell silent, except for the sound of the newscast and Kaylee crunching on chips.
”Atherton Wing, a notable businessman on Persephone, was found dead early this morning. Statements released by the Feds tell us there appears to be no forced entry, no sign of a struggle, and no fingerprints or DNA left at the scene. The cause of death is unknown.”
No one had a chance to speak. Just as the news anchor was signing off, Zoë entered the room, River in tow. “Looks like she flew her way back after all, sir.”
River grinned brightly at Mal when he turned to get a better view of the two in his doorway and all thoughts of Atherton Wing went out the window. Relief rushed over him - relief that she was back and safe. He crossed the room in two long strides and folded River into his arms. He didn’t speak, but River knew what he was saying - as she always did. Don’t do that to me again.
In the background, Mal could hear Inara waking Simon up and Kaylee, and Jayne chattering again.
”I told you it was Darrell.”
”How could he do that? He told her he loved her! What a hwoon dahn!”
“He wants ta run ‘round with Teresa. Doesn’t wanna worry ‘bout no baby.”
“Aw! That’s it? I gotta wait a whole ‘nother week ‘fore I see the end.”
“If you’re real nice and share some of them strawberries you bought ‘fore we left, I’ll let you see it ‘fore then.”
“How can you let me see it ‘fore then?”
“I got this season on chip in my bunk.”
Translations:
Nee mun doh BEE-jway!: Everybody shut the hell up!
hwoon dahn!: bastard!
Author: Megan [__dream_on]
Category: Sushi!fic - short story
Word Count: 4,186
Timeline: After “Just Another Day in the Black” by isha_libran and before “So This Is Love” by goldy_dollar
Characters: River-centric, but the rest of the crew and a few new characters are mentioned/make appearances
Pairings: It’s more a general fic than a pairing one, but Simon/Kaylee and Mal/Inara - plus others
Rating: PG-13
Warning: Some massive angst in the middle, superfluff and comedy elsewhere.
Disclaimer: Joss owns most of the characters & the ‘verse. terimaru owns the fishies and hfleming8 owns a few of the kiddies. I’m just borrowing all of them to entertain the masses.
Summary: River gleams a future that isn’t as bright as it seems.
Author’s Notes: Written because I got inspired listening to Phantom of the Opera (as has been known to happen - especially with that show. GUH). Title’s from “Wishing You Were Somehow Here Again” from that show. terimaru did the beta and sent me precious feedback to make it this gorgeous and fan-freaking-tastic.
A little side-note, simply because it amuses me: Kuài is Chinese for “chopped meat or fish”, according to the English-Chinese dictionary I have.
“You were once a friend and father then my world was shattered.”
River could remember the years that passed with remarkable clarity. She remembered the exact moment that Mal and Inara had built a house and settled in with their two children. She remembered the way the house smelled after the crew helped decorated as a housewarming present. She remembered how long it took Simon’s house to be built because he kept going out to the site and measuring every brick, to ensure it was exactly as he’d requested. She remembered the day Simon proposed to Kaylee, the way she’d smiled with tears in her eyes before accepting. She could even remember the day she first felt out of place when standing next to her brother.
She’d been living with Mal and Inara as a live-in babysitter, though she often liked to pretend she was their daughter. She’d even slipped into the habit of occasionally calling Mal “Daddy” and he never bothered to correct her. He liked to play that game, too. The people of Paraiso never mentioned the somewhat interesting living arrangement taking place - they’d grown to consider the entire Serenity crew as their own. What they did (and often) comment about was the fact that River was a twenty-seven-year-old single woman. In places this far on the rim, girls married young and had children. Her beauty, they said, was being wasted.
She’d known Hank Sanders for a number of years. His parents had originally been from Paraiso and when they died, he’d inherited the house they rented out in town. He always used to say that the central planets never suited him. He moved into the house and did odd jobs in town. One of those jobs had placed him on the crew that built Mal and Inara’s house. The house that River fell so in love with, she often used to exclaim that she’d never leave it.
It was his hands that fascinated her. They were so different from Mal’s and Simon’s. Mal’s were rough and callused, but if he wasn’t hauling cargo or reaching for his gun, he didn’t do much work with them. He’d even taken to using some of Inara’s fancy hand crèmes when he thought she wouldn’t notice.
Simon’s hands were delicate. They had to be to do the kind of work he did. He kept his well moisturized and protected, always choosing to talk a problem out rather than fight.
River often used to wonder if Hank’s hands were like Jayne’s, but Jayne had never grown close to her. Even after he married and settled down on the outskirts of town, he’d always kept River at a distance. That wasn’t to say that he didn’t bring his pretty little wife over for holiday festivities, often held at Mal and Inara’s place. He was always as polite as he could manage and he usually brought her a gift - she had a whole collection of hand-knitted sweaters now - but they’d never gotten affectionate with each other. She couldn’t remember a time she’d even touched Jayne’s hands.
Hank’s hands were big, callused and they creaked when he moved them. He was only two years her senior, but arthritis had set in some time ago. It was an interesting feature on him. He was taller than Mal, though not as tall as Jayne (no one was ever as tall as Jayne) with a head full of golden blonde hair. His eyes were the color of a gun barrel, but much more warm. His teeth were clean and straight and white and often reminded River of the picket fence they’d put up in the front yard. His hands, so old and weathered seemed so out of place on someone young and handsome.
He liked to play with Alleyne and Matthew, and Mal used to invite him over for drinks on Friday nights, where he was just as charming to Inara as a gentleman should be. Mal took a liking to him right away.
What River liked most about Hank was that she couldn’t read him as easily as she could everyone else. Some days she’d linger in the house, cleaning and cooking to keep herself busy, just so she wouldn’t have to go outside and hear the thoughts of everyone passing by. Hank liked to find excuses to stay with her on those days, making her smile and sometimes laugh. But it wasn’t until one of the town dances that she realized she loved him.
Mal had urged her to go, pointing out that Hank would be there and she’d promised him a dance. As much as she wanted to go over to Jayne’s and see if he’d teach her to knit, she went. The instant Hank’s hands touched her, she knew she was lost. They’d danced every dance that night and when it was over, he walked her home and kissed her goodnight on the porch. Three days later, he asked Mal and Simon for permission to marry her.
She was thirty-two years old when she marched down the isle, arm in arm with Simon. Mal was the best man. Kaylee, Inara and Zoë all bridesmaids. Alleyne was the flower girl and Matthew was the ring bearer, even though both of them were a little too old for those roles. It was a beautiful ceremony - even Jayne cried.
That had been six years ago. It was still astonishing to her that she’d been married for six years, living in the house that had belonged to Hank’s parents without Mal, Inara, Alleyne or Matthew’s constant companionship.
The house was beautiful - Hank had put more manual labor into fixing it up, making sure it was perfect, than any other project he busied himself with. He worked himself to the bone to provide for her. He always said he wanted to make sure she had everything she ever wanted, but most of the time, she had much more than she’d wanted. Still, it was one of the things she loved the most about him, especially when he brought her back a present - even though there was no real occasion for getting her one.
“Just because,” he’d say and gently kiss her lips, one hand on her hip and one hand toying with the ends of her hair. And she always knew that what he really meant to say was, “Just because I love you.”
River had spent two years in their house, spending most days alone. It was in those two years that Simon and Kaylee had their fourth and fifth children. River still wasn’t sure if it was the birth of her nieces or the sparkle in Hank’s eyes ever time he held the newborn twins that caused a desire to burn in her belly. She’d practically exhausted her husband in the three months it took to conceive their daughter, but he’d never once complained. And she’d never seen a man so happy as when she told him they were pregnant, even after she’d explained the odds of having twins were greater than those of a single birth, since twins ran in the Tam family.
But moments like that were never built to last. It’s when people become so absorbed in their happiness that they don’t see anything else. She and Hank had never fought much. With his strong, silent ways and a scowl that could darken the brightest room, River had never felt the need to push his buttons. It wasn’t like Simon and Kaylee’s relationship - where, even after six children, they could find some little word to fight over. The fights never lasted long and when people questioned Kaylee about them, she often remarked that the spats were just to blow off steam.
”With six lil’ ones tuggin’ at ya all day long, ya can’t help but yell ‘bout somethin’.”
Comments like that always made River a bit curious as to why Kaylee would allow herself to become pregnant again - with number seven. But the second she stepped foot in their house, she was overwhelmed by the love. It filled the air the way that humidity did. It was tangible and it stuck to you, followed you no matter where you walked and sometimes made it hard to breathe. As much as it was uncomfortable, it was intoxicating. And it explained better than words could as to why her brother had so many children.
Brooke was born on a Sunday afternoon when all the townsfolk were supposed to be in church. Simon delivered her in Simon’s clinic. Hank paced outside the door, too frightened to come in. River couldn’t blame him. She’d been frightened, too. When she hit her six-month mark, she’d started dreaming about death. She’d made weekly appointments with Simon, often barging in on him at home, just to be certain her baby wasn’t dying.
The delivery had been smooth. River had known more pain in her life and was relieved when Brooke was healthy and beautiful. Like her father, Brooke had no intentions of letting River read her thoughts. And while parenting would have been easier if River could know exactly what Brooke wanted the moment she wanted it, she didn’t mind the hard work. She enjoyed discovering what made her daughter laugh and smile. She endured everything else with her strength and grace. She seemed just happy to have her daughter at all.
It was on Brooke’s third birthday that Mal caused a commotion in town. One of Inara’s old clients had been aboard a transport ship that had to stop for repairs at Kaylee’s shop. He’d recognized Kaylee right off the bat, even though she was covered in engine grease and had five children running wild around the store, one baby screaming at the top of its lungs in his nanny’s arms and a belly that was obviously pregnant. And she’d recognized him as well.
The second Kaylee had uttered the words “Atherton Wing” to Mal she realized she probably shouldn’t have. He did need to know, especially since she’d made the mistake of rubbing it in Atherton’s nose that Inara had married the Captain and they were living happily ever after with two children - the eldest of which had gone off for fancy schooling on Sihnon. He had simply sneered in her direction and stomped off. And Kaylee had feared he’d stomp off to find Inara.
She’d sent Leela, her oldest daughter, to get Uncle Mal and bring him to the shop. She would have gone herself, but Kaylee wasn’t fool enough to believe that she, as pregnant as she was, could run fast enough. When Leela had appeared at Mal’s door, out of breath and panting something about Kaylee needing him, he hadn’t hesitated. He’d automatically assumed the worst - that something was wrong with the baby - and, after telling Inara to get Simon, he’d run as fast as his feet would carry him to rescue her.
But, as it turned out, it was Mal that needed the rescuing. It was Brooke’s fourth birthday and all the child could do was cling to her father’s leg and ask, again, why her mother wasn’t smiling. In the four years that Brooke had been alive, River had had a hard time not smiling when her daughter was around. She’d take one look at Brooke’s dark hair and her gun-steel eyes and break into a smile, knowing that she had someone here who was the perfect combination between her and Hank.
There were always a few moments when a shadow crossed her face because a premonition struck her that wasn’t as fun-filled as she would have liked.
Brooke had only seen her mother cry once that she could remember. They’d been playing feds and robbers (Brooke always made her mother be the fed - she never did like being the bad guy in games) and River froze just as Brooke was shooting her so she could get away with the loot. Instead of chasing after her, like Brooke had expected her mother to do, River crumbled to the floor and started sobbing, her hands curled into her hair.
Later that night, when Hank asked her what had happened, River had explained that Zoë’s grief had caught her square in the chest. It’d hit her so hard that she couldn’t breathe and before she could speak, tears filled her throat and threatened to drown her if she didn’t get them out. Hank had pulled her against his chest and not said another word, but River felt a stirring in her heart that reminded her he loved her for being just like this - for feeling everyone’s pain.
She was an unusually happy woman on Avery. For all the pain, suffering and uncertainty she went through as a teenager, she felt she needed to make up for it. But on Brooke’s fourth birthday, she let the pain overwhelm her and she left her beautiful home, wrapped in a blanket Jayne had knitted her years ago, and pounded on Inara’s door.
Even as she waited for the door to open, River was in awe at how beautiful the house still was. Hank had done some minor repairs, but it still managed to look brand new - just as it always did. Matthew answered the door and River would have noticed how tall he was getting if she’d let herself swim through the haze she was in. Instead, she let him lead her up the stairs to Inara’s bedroom.
Inara was on the bed, curled into a ball, the knuckles of one hand pressed against her mouth. She was awake and River sucked in a breath, struggling to breathe through the smog of grief that suffocated the room. It did no good. She dropped her frame into an armchair against the wall - his armchair - and leaned back, letting the smell of leather and gunpowder overwhelm her until the tears poured from her eyes.
River noticed that Inara didn’t move from the bed, barely blinked an eye to acknowledge River’s pain. Her own was so overpowering that she could barely think of anything else. Her mind seemed on repeat: I caused this. I caused this. It’s my fault. It’s my fault.
It took River by surprise that their minds would be filled with such similar thoughts. She couldn’t articulate her feelings. She’d long since learned that riddles weren’t appreciated and she’d trained herself out of speaking in such a way - despite the fact that they never seemed to phase Hank, who always knew what she was saying. But without her riddles now, she didn’t know how to say anything.
She managed one, strangled word, “Daddy.”
River spent the rest of the day like that, sobbing into Mal’s chair while Inara stayed curled up on the bed, silent, her tears spent. River was so exhausted by the crying that she didn’t fight Hank when he came to get her, and carried her home. She didn’t tell him that she had to stay, had to somehow tell Inara that it wasn’t Inara’s fault he was dead. She had to stay there until Inara knew. Until Inara knew that she could have prevented it if she hadn’t been so wrapped up in Brooke’s third birthday.
It’d been sunny, unusual for their winter months which were often filled with rain and thunderstorms. Brooke danced around in a dress her Aunt Zoë had given her, humming a tune in the gorgeous voice of hers - the reason her father often pulled her into his lap and said, “Sing to me, songbird.” River was in the middle of baking Brooke’s cake, expecting her guests to come. She’d bent over to check the cake in the oven when it hit her. Guns. Bullets. Screaming. Mal. And then black.
She’d swooned a bit from the force of what was whizzing through her brain. It made her lightheaded and weak and she gripped the countertops for support. But instead of running as fast as she could to Simon, she stayed home, made the cake, sang “Happy Birthday”, opened presents, put Brooke to bed when she fell asleep on the couch, curled in her father’s arms.
It was just before her own bedtime when Zoë pounded on her door. The rain had come at last and Zoë was soaking wet, but it didn’t seem to register with her. Her eyes were wide and River was hit immediately with fear. Zoë was afraid.
When she told her that Mal had been shot, she’d run all the way to Simon’s clinic, her face and hands pressed against the glass of the window, but she never went in. She’d already let him die. She’d stood there for hours, the pain building in her chest, but she didn’t cry.
She didn’t cry when Kaylee led Inara out, taking her back home and promising to wave Alleyne at school to let her know the news.
She didn’t cry even when she saw Jayne burst into tears and bury his face in his wife’s neck, clinging to her for comfort. She didn’t cry at the funeral when Zoë held onto Matthew and sobbed into his hair. She didn’t cry.
She didn’t cry for a year. She put on a happy mask, but she slept with her back to Hank at night, brushing off any attempt he made to talk to her, hold her, or make love to her.
She spent hours staring into her goldfish bowl that held one little fish, Kuài, one of the surviving offspring of Sushi and Sashimi’s broods. Brooke only asked her father once why her mother loved a silly fish so much - you couldn’t pet a fish, or kiss a fish, and it couldn’t kiss you. Hank had replied simply with, “Her father loved that fish.”
The night of Brooke’s fourth birthday, when Hank carried her home, River laid in bed, staring up at the ceiling and wondering how she was supposed to go on with her life. How could she, the most talented woman in the ‘verse, live with herself? She was given a gift, the gift to save everyone she cared about, and she couldn’t do it. Grief choked her that night. She didn’t feel anything except loss. The loss of Malcolm Reynolds. A man who’d been her friend and, eventually, her father, for twenty years.
~*~*~*~*~
River woke with a start, her heart pounding in her chest so hard it threatened to burst though her ribcage. She was crying. Her skin felt like it was on fire and each tear that fell onto her bare skin felt as though it might sizzle there. She kicked off her covers and swung her legs off her bed, letting her bare feet feel the humming of Serenity beneath them - something that almost always comforted her.
She knew that Mal was at the wheel, she could feel him there; hear him humming in his head a song that struck her as familiar. And then her dream rushed back to her. Songbird. Memories that didn’t seem to belong to her flooded her mind and knocked the grate out from under her feet. She screamed out as her knees came in contact with the metal, her hands gripping her head. It hurt so badly it felt as though it might split in two and pour all those awful memories onto the floor in front of her.
But they weren’t all awful. Some of them caused an ache in her heart, where it seemed as though something was missing. Maybe he was missing. Maybe Brooke was missing. But how can you miss something you’ve never had?
She was helped up to her feet by Mal’s strong and certain hands. He held her by the shoulders, his eyes full of concern. One hand brushed her hair out of her face and she met his gaze, stared deep into his blue eyes and felt her heart tremble. He was her father. She loved him and she felt the way his heart swelled when he was proud of her - just like a father’s would. That love would be the thing that kept them all together. They were the glue in this family - just as she’d promised. She wouldn’t let him down.
A smile spread across her face and she stepped a bit closer to him, pushing herself onto her tiptoes and pressing a kiss to his lips, something she’d never quite done before. “I love you…Daddy.” Her voice was soft and sweet, vulnerable like a child’s.
Mal’s eyes, softened into that loving, tender look he usually reserved for Kaylee when she needed him to lift her spirits - one that he often felt was a bit too mushy for River’s sake. She’d always been content to just smile and sit in silence with their shoulders touching.
He opened his mouth to respond, but the words filled her head before he spoke and she didn’t need him to say them. Instead, she held up a hand to stop him and turned on her heel, heading for the unoccupied shuttle with a very simple explanation.
”There’s just something I have to do.”
His words were still in her head when she took to the sky, trusting that her gift would get her to him and give her the chance to stop Mal’s future from being cut short. I love you, too, River.
~*~*~*~*~
She didn’t come back for three days. Mal had paced all over Serenity, anxious and worried. The only comfort he took was in Inara’s arms, when she’d run her fingers through his hair and whisper to him in her soothing tones.
Mal had managed to put on a strong face for his crew, never admitting that he didn’t know where River had taken the shuttle or what she was doing. He’d simply tell them that he’d sent her on a special mission and she’d return shortly. Only Inara knew the truth. Only Inara understood why he was so wound up.
They’d been watching the vid screen, a show that Kaylee had practically begged to watch. No one else was really all that interested in what appeared to be some sort of soap opera, but there wasn’t much else to do on the ship at present. And, somehow, the shuttle he shared with Inara had been turned into the new viewing room.
“We interrupt this programming to bring you breaking news,” said a man with his hair perfectly combed, wearing a tux and sounding much too self-important. Mal hated him right away.
”Aw! Come on! We’s just ‘bout to see who killed Tanya!” Kaylee exclaimed and tossed a chip at the screen by way of protest.
”I betcha it was Darrell.” Jayne spoke with confidence, as if he’d been in the room with the writers as they’d scripted it.
”Nuh-uh! Darrell loves her!” Kaylee responded, her voice a bit of a whine. Mal turned his gaze to their fishbowl and rolled his eyes. He wasn’t going to be able to take much more of this.
When he turned back around to the screen, it flashed a picture of Atherton Wing. His eyes widened in surprise and his gaze shifted to Inara. She’d turned pale as a sheet.
Kaylee and Jayne’s prattle still covered the words of the pompous news anchor and Mal was pretty sure he was going to have to be the one to stop it. Simon looked practically asleep, with one arm around Kaylee’s shoulders and his chin tucked to his chest. Mal wasn’t too certain where Zoë had run off to, or even when she’d left.
“Nee mun doh BEE-jway!”
The shuttle instantly fell silent, except for the sound of the newscast and Kaylee crunching on chips.
”Atherton Wing, a notable businessman on Persephone, was found dead early this morning. Statements released by the Feds tell us there appears to be no forced entry, no sign of a struggle, and no fingerprints or DNA left at the scene. The cause of death is unknown.”
No one had a chance to speak. Just as the news anchor was signing off, Zoë entered the room, River in tow. “Looks like she flew her way back after all, sir.”
River grinned brightly at Mal when he turned to get a better view of the two in his doorway and all thoughts of Atherton Wing went out the window. Relief rushed over him - relief that she was back and safe. He crossed the room in two long strides and folded River into his arms. He didn’t speak, but River knew what he was saying - as she always did. Don’t do that to me again.
In the background, Mal could hear Inara waking Simon up and Kaylee, and Jayne chattering again.
”I told you it was Darrell.”
”How could he do that? He told her he loved her! What a hwoon dahn!”
“He wants ta run ‘round with Teresa. Doesn’t wanna worry ‘bout no baby.”
“Aw! That’s it? I gotta wait a whole ‘nother week ‘fore I see the end.”
“If you’re real nice and share some of them strawberries you bought ‘fore we left, I’ll let you see it ‘fore then.”
“How can you let me see it ‘fore then?”
“I got this season on chip in my bunk.”
Translations:
Nee mun doh BEE-jway!: Everybody shut the hell up!
hwoon dahn!: bastard!