Fic: No Power in the 'Verse, Part 2/18 (Firefly, River/Mal, PG-13)
Title: No Power in the 'Verse: II. Versions of You
Rating: PG-13
Words: ~1900
Pairing: River/Mal, mentions of Mal/Inara and Kaylee/Simon
Notes: Chapter title and cut text from the Serenity script, written by Joss Whedon. Good a time as any to make the disclaimer that none of this belongs to me, everything good belongs to Joss.
II. Versions of You
Up on the bridge, there is silence, and peace, and River's bitterness fades into the black. She loves flying dearly, loves the shuddering communication with Serenity as the controls hum beneath her hands, loves the focus and purpose guiding the ship gives her.
And lately she has also found herself loving the man who often shares this space.
She knows, of course, that she has had feelings for him since he opened that box in the cargo bay, just as she has had feelings for Kaylee, and Jayne, and Zoe. But at a point that she finds irritatingly imprecise, her feelings for Mal have been transmuted from Captain and Protector into something disturbing, something closer to Beloved and Protected.
She sighs, and feels the dinosaurs watching her with interest. There haven't been this many longing sighs in their space since Wash had developed feelings for a warrior woman who could crush him like a bug.
She speaks to them sometimes, and through them, to the memory of Wash. They are not wary of her, do not judge her, do not puzzle over her pronouncements and ask her to please make sense, River. She finds them better company than some of her shipmates.
“It's not exactly the first time, you know,” she says, mostly to Wash but partly to the dinosaurs. “There was a boy, back on Osiris. One of Simon's friends, came home with him once from the MedAcad. Took time to talk to me, treat me like I was an interesting person, not a little sister. But...” She trails off, frowning. But he'd been Simon's age, too old, and she had been only a little girl. “Just like now. Captain thinks of me as a girl. But I'm not. You'd know it, if you could see,” she tells Wash.
It's true enough, she thinks. While she will never have Kaylee's softness, Inara's lush curves, or Zoe's firm strength, she has filled out a bit as the need for drugs has lessened and the bits of protein-made-energy essential for building flesh remain where they should. She is a slim, slight figure still, but her body has followed her brain, shaping itself into an adult to match a mind made too old for its years.
“I wish you could see,” she sighs. “Maybe you could tell me what to do with it. You were always good with sex.” She blushes a bit, remembering the times when her mind was a cloud, when she slid into the passions and experiences of others without intent, because she had lacked the understanding required for intent. “Didn't really mean to,” she explains. “I'm sorry I intruded, even if you didn't know.”
She glances slyly at the dinosaurs. “He was pretty good though,” she confides.
“River?” Zoe comes up the stairs to the bridge, looking for someone else but not truly surprised to find River speaking to no one. “Who's good at what?”
River smiles up at her, innocently. “Wash. At everything.”
Zoe is quiet a moment, staring at the empty pilot's chair, and River realizes belatedly that she has pushed, that she has again intruded, searches frantically through the dark sea of Zoe's thoughts for a way to the surface. But Zoe settles herself with a breath and the ghost of a smile, says, “I don't know about that. Man couldn't have picked out a good looking outfit if it was set in front of him.” She looks down at River, all business, all clear once more. “You know where the Captain might be?”
River gives her a look; she knows where everyone on the ship is, at all times. It is part of being River. “With Inara. In her shuttle.”
River is trying harder to stay out of people's thoughts uninvited these days, but Zoe's expression speaks loud enough to make them plain, states that in that case she will be delaying her search for the Captain. “Alright then. We're steady on course?”
“Yes. Should make port in four hours, eighteen minutes and...six point two seconds.”
Zoe raises an eyebrow, turns to leave. “Good. Thank you, River.”
River says nothing. Silently and sadly she tells the dinosaurs that every night Zoe goes to sleep wrapped in one of those Hawaiian shirts that still speak of Wash.
She has shared Zoe's exhilaration in love, secretly holds it as a high water mark in her mind. It is only fair, she thinks, that she should share a bitter portion of her loss in it as well.
***
Inara's shuttle is quiet, still, at peace. This is, of course, scattered to bits with Mal's entrance, as Inara feels the giddy rush of desire honed on the nervous edge of challenge that always colors their conversation.
“Mal. Back to your old habits of barging right in, I see.”
He has the grace to look sheepish. “Well, River said...I mean, I did ask if you were decent. Seemed good enough to me.”
“Yes, just because I was prepared for one visitor must mean I'd welcome anyone who chose to wander in.” Inara hears the edge in her voice, berates herself for it. Why can't I ever simply talk to this man?
“Look, 'Nara, if you don't want me here -”
Inara holds up her hand, a gesture of peace. “Please, Mal, let's not do this. Why do we always have to fight?”
For a moment she thinks he means to continue on their set course, to sling barbs against her again, or simply turn and storm out. But after a moment's pause, he sighs and sits, uninvited but not entirely unwelcome. “Hell if I know, Inara. All's I was coming to ask was if you'd made your choice about leaving or not yet. It's been a good while now.”
She hesitates, then sits beside him. “I hadn't, actually.” She takes a breath, finds words sticking in her throat. Honestly woman, you're trained to be able to say anything with a straight face! Just spit it out, she thinks. Summoning up every bit of her tight control, she says, “I think I was waiting for your input, to be honest.”
“My input?” He glances at her, runs a hand through his hair. “I figure it's your choice either way. I ain't got a claim on keeping you here.”
“Damn it, Mal, don't do that. Don't pretend as though you don't know I'm asking you if you'd like one.” She wishes immediately she could take the words back, but they are out there, they have existence and wait on nearly visible tension for a response.
He looks at her again, but instead of the surprise she's expected, she sees tightening anger in his face. “You want me to be honest, then? Fine, Inara, maybe I would like a claim on you. But you tell me, how long would that claim be like to last? Until you ran out of money and needed a new client? Until you got bored with having only one man in your bed? You know I ain't any good at sharing, never have been.”
She clenches her jaw, refusing to look at him, knowing if she does she will flare into outright rage. “And I've never been much good at taking insults. You think I'm a Companion because I'd grow bored with a steady partner? You've always claimed it's my profession you disrespect and not me, but then you make comments like that! What is the matter with you?”
He sighs, rubs a hand over his forehead. “Alright, maybe that was a mite too far. But it don't change the point - I am not a man to share. And you're not a woman who's willing to give herself over to another person.”
She shakes her head, an increasingly bitter resignation cooling her fury. “It's not that, Mal. But what you're asking for - I can't stop being a Companion. It's more than what I do, it's who I am. I've lived my life in the guild in one way or another since I was twelve years old. To give up my entire life - it isn't just a job, it's my identity. You don't know what you're asking.”
“Well, seems to me if you truly wanted a person there wouldn't be a thing in the 'verse that could stop you from doing what you needed to be with them.”
She sighs, places a hand over his. “Mal, if I asked you, could you give up Serenity and settle down in the Core for me?”
She almost laughs in the midst of grief, his immediate tension is so obvious. “That ain't the same at all, Inara!”
“But it is, Mal. It's exactly the same. What you do and how you live are a part of you, just as they are for me.” They sit together a moment, joined in silent misery.
“This thing between you and me is never gonna work out, is it?” he finally manages to ask.
She swallows hard, somehow surprised to find tears in her eyes. “No, Mal. I'm not sure if it ever could have. Maybe once, when we were both younger and less...set in our ways.”
He gives a humorless chuckle. “You mean when I wasn't a petty criminal yet.”
“And I wasn't a whore,” she adds wryly.
They are able now to meet each other's eyes again, and she gives his hand a gentle squeeze. “I said once I'd seen too many versions of you to be sure who I was dealing with. I know now that isn't so - they're all you, the better and the worse. And for all the pieces we have that fit together, there are some that would never be in place between us.”
He reaches up, touches the back of her neck, draws her closer until their foreheads rest against each other and she can feel his breath on her skin. “I know there's sense in what you've said,” he whispers. “But I wish like hell it weren't so.”
She gives in then, kisses him for what she knows will be the only time, savoring this one moment as a woman in love. It is, she thinks, both the sweetest and saddest kiss she has ever had. There is silence between them for a long moment, both needing the contact, reluctant to make a final end of it.
She speaks, finally, softly. “I think I should leave the ship as soon as possible. You can drop me at the next port, anywhere I can catch a transport.”
He brushes a tear from her cheek she hadn't even realized was there. “No need for that. We'll take you all the way back to your girls. I can give you at least that much, Inara.”
She takes a breath, wanting only to escape as soon as possible, but finally just nods and smiles. “Thank you.” What more is there to say? She says the only thing she can manage. “I'm sorry, Mal.”
He had risen to leave, but turns back at this. “So am I, 'Nara.” He stands uncertainly for a moment, then disappears through the doorway.
She allows herself a few moments for grief, a final unabated bout of anguish over this man. Then she rises, puts on the impassive face it has taken her so many years to achieve, and begins to pack up the bits of her free, secure, and slightly emptier life.
Part 1 - Master Post - Part 3
Rating: PG-13
Words: ~1900
Pairing: River/Mal, mentions of Mal/Inara and Kaylee/Simon
Notes: Chapter title and cut text from the Serenity script, written by Joss Whedon. Good a time as any to make the disclaimer that none of this belongs to me, everything good belongs to Joss.
II. Versions of You
Up on the bridge, there is silence, and peace, and River's bitterness fades into the black. She loves flying dearly, loves the shuddering communication with Serenity as the controls hum beneath her hands, loves the focus and purpose guiding the ship gives her.
And lately she has also found herself loving the man who often shares this space.
She knows, of course, that she has had feelings for him since he opened that box in the cargo bay, just as she has had feelings for Kaylee, and Jayne, and Zoe. But at a point that she finds irritatingly imprecise, her feelings for Mal have been transmuted from Captain and Protector into something disturbing, something closer to Beloved and Protected.
She sighs, and feels the dinosaurs watching her with interest. There haven't been this many longing sighs in their space since Wash had developed feelings for a warrior woman who could crush him like a bug.
She speaks to them sometimes, and through them, to the memory of Wash. They are not wary of her, do not judge her, do not puzzle over her pronouncements and ask her to please make sense, River. She finds them better company than some of her shipmates.
“It's not exactly the first time, you know,” she says, mostly to Wash but partly to the dinosaurs. “There was a boy, back on Osiris. One of Simon's friends, came home with him once from the MedAcad. Took time to talk to me, treat me like I was an interesting person, not a little sister. But...” She trails off, frowning. But he'd been Simon's age, too old, and she had been only a little girl. “Just like now. Captain thinks of me as a girl. But I'm not. You'd know it, if you could see,” she tells Wash.
It's true enough, she thinks. While she will never have Kaylee's softness, Inara's lush curves, or Zoe's firm strength, she has filled out a bit as the need for drugs has lessened and the bits of protein-made-energy essential for building flesh remain where they should. She is a slim, slight figure still, but her body has followed her brain, shaping itself into an adult to match a mind made too old for its years.
“I wish you could see,” she sighs. “Maybe you could tell me what to do with it. You were always good with sex.” She blushes a bit, remembering the times when her mind was a cloud, when she slid into the passions and experiences of others without intent, because she had lacked the understanding required for intent. “Didn't really mean to,” she explains. “I'm sorry I intruded, even if you didn't know.”
She glances slyly at the dinosaurs. “He was pretty good though,” she confides.
“River?” Zoe comes up the stairs to the bridge, looking for someone else but not truly surprised to find River speaking to no one. “Who's good at what?”
River smiles up at her, innocently. “Wash. At everything.”
Zoe is quiet a moment, staring at the empty pilot's chair, and River realizes belatedly that she has pushed, that she has again intruded, searches frantically through the dark sea of Zoe's thoughts for a way to the surface. But Zoe settles herself with a breath and the ghost of a smile, says, “I don't know about that. Man couldn't have picked out a good looking outfit if it was set in front of him.” She looks down at River, all business, all clear once more. “You know where the Captain might be?”
River gives her a look; she knows where everyone on the ship is, at all times. It is part of being River. “With Inara. In her shuttle.”
River is trying harder to stay out of people's thoughts uninvited these days, but Zoe's expression speaks loud enough to make them plain, states that in that case she will be delaying her search for the Captain. “Alright then. We're steady on course?”
“Yes. Should make port in four hours, eighteen minutes and...six point two seconds.”
Zoe raises an eyebrow, turns to leave. “Good. Thank you, River.”
River says nothing. Silently and sadly she tells the dinosaurs that every night Zoe goes to sleep wrapped in one of those Hawaiian shirts that still speak of Wash.
She has shared Zoe's exhilaration in love, secretly holds it as a high water mark in her mind. It is only fair, she thinks, that she should share a bitter portion of her loss in it as well.
***
Inara's shuttle is quiet, still, at peace. This is, of course, scattered to bits with Mal's entrance, as Inara feels the giddy rush of desire honed on the nervous edge of challenge that always colors their conversation.
“Mal. Back to your old habits of barging right in, I see.”
He has the grace to look sheepish. “Well, River said...I mean, I did ask if you were decent. Seemed good enough to me.”
“Yes, just because I was prepared for one visitor must mean I'd welcome anyone who chose to wander in.” Inara hears the edge in her voice, berates herself for it. Why can't I ever simply talk to this man?
“Look, 'Nara, if you don't want me here -”
Inara holds up her hand, a gesture of peace. “Please, Mal, let's not do this. Why do we always have to fight?”
For a moment she thinks he means to continue on their set course, to sling barbs against her again, or simply turn and storm out. But after a moment's pause, he sighs and sits, uninvited but not entirely unwelcome. “Hell if I know, Inara. All's I was coming to ask was if you'd made your choice about leaving or not yet. It's been a good while now.”
She hesitates, then sits beside him. “I hadn't, actually.” She takes a breath, finds words sticking in her throat. Honestly woman, you're trained to be able to say anything with a straight face! Just spit it out, she thinks. Summoning up every bit of her tight control, she says, “I think I was waiting for your input, to be honest.”
“My input?” He glances at her, runs a hand through his hair. “I figure it's your choice either way. I ain't got a claim on keeping you here.”
“Damn it, Mal, don't do that. Don't pretend as though you don't know I'm asking you if you'd like one.” She wishes immediately she could take the words back, but they are out there, they have existence and wait on nearly visible tension for a response.
He looks at her again, but instead of the surprise she's expected, she sees tightening anger in his face. “You want me to be honest, then? Fine, Inara, maybe I would like a claim on you. But you tell me, how long would that claim be like to last? Until you ran out of money and needed a new client? Until you got bored with having only one man in your bed? You know I ain't any good at sharing, never have been.”
She clenches her jaw, refusing to look at him, knowing if she does she will flare into outright rage. “And I've never been much good at taking insults. You think I'm a Companion because I'd grow bored with a steady partner? You've always claimed it's my profession you disrespect and not me, but then you make comments like that! What is the matter with you?”
He sighs, rubs a hand over his forehead. “Alright, maybe that was a mite too far. But it don't change the point - I am not a man to share. And you're not a woman who's willing to give herself over to another person.”
She shakes her head, an increasingly bitter resignation cooling her fury. “It's not that, Mal. But what you're asking for - I can't stop being a Companion. It's more than what I do, it's who I am. I've lived my life in the guild in one way or another since I was twelve years old. To give up my entire life - it isn't just a job, it's my identity. You don't know what you're asking.”
“Well, seems to me if you truly wanted a person there wouldn't be a thing in the 'verse that could stop you from doing what you needed to be with them.”
She sighs, places a hand over his. “Mal, if I asked you, could you give up Serenity and settle down in the Core for me?”
She almost laughs in the midst of grief, his immediate tension is so obvious. “That ain't the same at all, Inara!”
“But it is, Mal. It's exactly the same. What you do and how you live are a part of you, just as they are for me.” They sit together a moment, joined in silent misery.
“This thing between you and me is never gonna work out, is it?” he finally manages to ask.
She swallows hard, somehow surprised to find tears in her eyes. “No, Mal. I'm not sure if it ever could have. Maybe once, when we were both younger and less...set in our ways.”
He gives a humorless chuckle. “You mean when I wasn't a petty criminal yet.”
“And I wasn't a whore,” she adds wryly.
They are able now to meet each other's eyes again, and she gives his hand a gentle squeeze. “I said once I'd seen too many versions of you to be sure who I was dealing with. I know now that isn't so - they're all you, the better and the worse. And for all the pieces we have that fit together, there are some that would never be in place between us.”
He reaches up, touches the back of her neck, draws her closer until their foreheads rest against each other and she can feel his breath on her skin. “I know there's sense in what you've said,” he whispers. “But I wish like hell it weren't so.”
She gives in then, kisses him for what she knows will be the only time, savoring this one moment as a woman in love. It is, she thinks, both the sweetest and saddest kiss she has ever had. There is silence between them for a long moment, both needing the contact, reluctant to make a final end of it.
She speaks, finally, softly. “I think I should leave the ship as soon as possible. You can drop me at the next port, anywhere I can catch a transport.”
He brushes a tear from her cheek she hadn't even realized was there. “No need for that. We'll take you all the way back to your girls. I can give you at least that much, Inara.”
She takes a breath, wanting only to escape as soon as possible, but finally just nods and smiles. “Thank you.” What more is there to say? She says the only thing she can manage. “I'm sorry, Mal.”
He had risen to leave, but turns back at this. “So am I, 'Nara.” He stands uncertainly for a moment, then disappears through the doorway.
She allows herself a few moments for grief, a final unabated bout of anguish over this man. Then she rises, puts on the impassive face it has taken her so many years to achieve, and begins to pack up the bits of her free, secure, and slightly emptier life.
Part 1 - Master Post - Part 3