Fic: No Power in the 'Verse, Part 11/18 (Firefly, River/Mal, PG-13)
Title: No Power in the 'Verse: XI. You Shy Away
Rating: PG-13
Words: ~2100
Pairing: River/Mal, mentions of Kaylee/Simon
Notes: Chapter title and cut text from River of Dreams by Kate Miller-Heidke
XI. You Shy Away
“Mal, why's there a crazy person in the bunk next to mine?”
Looking up from where he's doing his best (well, more like the closest he can get to his best without putting in any real effort, if he's being honest) to turn a heap of protein into something palatable, Mal raises an eyebrow. “I'm gonna assume you're talking 'bout River there, Jayne, cause it'd take a braver man than you to call Zoë crazy.”
Jayne drops into a chair with his usual lack of good grace. “Lot of you are all gone nutty, you think it's a good idea having her up in our quarters. It's askin' for trouble, Mal.”
“If the girl really wanted to kill you, she'd do it just as easily from the rear of the ship as she could from right next door, you know that. Only makes sense to have her up there, what with her doing so much of the flyin' these days. Any case, I said she could have the bunk, so there she stays.”
Though if he's being honest with himself again, Mal's regretting that offer and all its temptations just the tiniest bit now that he knows River's looking at him in all manner of disturbing new ways.
From the table, Jayne's expression shifts into ugly suspicion. “That right? Maybe you got another reason for wantin' her up close, huh? Monty told an interestin' tale the other night 'bout you getting mighty comfortable like with her.” His sullen face breaks into a leer, and Mal has to turn away to suppress the decidedly unhealthy urge to start a fight.
“Ought to look to that mouth of yours 'fore somebody does it for you.”
“Oh come on, Mal,” Jayne protests, leaning back in his chair. “Girl's a mite skinny for my tastes, but don't think any of us'd blame you. 'Cept maybe the doc, of course. Hell, I wondered why you let Inara go, but it's startin' to make sense now.”
When Mal turns around, Jayne sits up straighter in his seat, cause even he's learned to respect the Captain when he's got that particular look on his face. “Only gonna tell you this once, Jayne, and then I expect to hear no more about it, ever,” he says, leaning over the table. “Ain't nothing between River and me. Nothing more than there should be. You got that?”
“Yes, Capt'n,” Jayne mutters, sitting back again. It's not in his nature to be suppressed for long though, and the phrase 'unexpressed thought' never has been part of his vocabulary. “Hey, that mean she's fair game then? Gets lonely 'round here,” he says defensively, in response to Mal's glare.
“Sure thing. Once you get past her brother and his many ways of killin' a man without leaving a trace, and past me with mine, which are messier but still result in you bein' dead, then you can ask a girl who's proven she can lay you out flat if she'd like to warm your bunk. You let me know how that goes.”
“So...that mean yes or not?” Jayne calls, as Mal turns to stalk off down the crew passage.
He doesn't even know why he's so gorram angry, is the thing of it. Maybe it's just Jayne's base implications that've got him all worked up. Or maybe it's the fact, hidden deeper in the picture of a girl dancing in the sunlight and the memory of her voice whispering against his ear, that he wishes he could have told Jayne he was right.
The fact that he's finding it hard to think of reasons why he couldn't, why it's wrong for him to want her, ain't helping a bit.
As he pauses next to the door to his cabin, he can see the door that's now River's is open, light and voices rising up from it. And as he stands and listens, he finds himself with all kinds of reasons why.
***
River is frustrated. The elation of the previous day, the certainty that she could make Mal see, has faded, and she is empty and tired and cross.
This last is due to her brother, who is making a pest of himself.
“You're invading my space,” she tells him, turning where she sits on her bed to face the wall. “Don't want you here. Don't need you here.”
“River, I just want to understand. I only want to help you, you know that. It's just that...well, when Kaylee mentioned you'd been asking her about sex, I-”
“She shouldn't have told you. Wasn't right. Confidences out of their cages make a mess,” she says.
“No, no, River, she didn't mean anything by it. She was just...just joking around. She thought it was harmless, I'm sure.”
River turns her head just enough to glare at him. “She'll be mad. Tells you not to herd me like a sheep.”
Simon sighs, sitting next to her on the bed. “Yes, she does, though not generally in such picturesque terms. But this - River, this is important. You aren't ready for that kind of contact, for the kind of relationship you should have for...that.”
The fact that Simon, the important, self-assured doctor, is full of overwhelming awkwardness at having to discuss sex with his little sister amuses her only for the briefest of seconds. “Can't protect me forever, Simon. Not a doll, or a little girl. You can't make my choices for me.”
“And I'm not trying to,” he says, taking her hand before she tugs it from his grasp. “But the trauma you've been through - it isn't something that we can be certain won't still affect your judgment, your perceptions.”
She refuses to look at him now, hurt and shame building up tears behind her eyes, making them threaten to spill over. “You'll trust me with the ship, but not with my own body?”
She knows without seeing that Simon is no longer looking at her, either. “To be honest...it doesn't matter what I think about the ship, that's Mal's choice. I'm just pleased to see how flying soothes you. You obviously love it, so it makes me happy. But sex - that's a different matter. It's messy and complicated and it can make even totally normal people do insane things. I just can't let you be hurt by something like this, not when you're doing so well.”
“That's not fair,” she whispers. “Can't keep me in a box. Have to let me breathe.”
He sighs again, puts a hand on her shoulder that she refrains from shrugging off with effort, knowing it is placed in love and hope and comfort. “Well,” he says, forcing a smile into his voice, “it's not as though there can be any rush about it. The only men you have to choose from out here are Jayne and the Captain, and I can't honestly picture you with either of them.” He laughs, as much as Simon ever laughs, and she knows he expects her to laugh with him, as though his words don't make her want to cry and scream out her frustrations instead.
“Go away, Simon,” she says, her voice small and cold. “Go have what I can't.”
“Mei mei...” he says, reaching for her again, but she shies away, remains a stubborn wall until he has no choice but to depart. She knows he is sorry, and confused, and troubled, all swirling in him like murky water. But she knows also that he has Kaylee, that she will be his sun, make him grow back into contentment.
Seeking solace of her own, she climbs the ladder, makes her way step by slow step up to the bridge.
She is searching only for the comfort of Serenity's hum, of the accepting presence of the black and the dinosaurs and the memory of Wash.
Instead she finds Mal, and for a second she feels her hope dance within her, bringing its own comfort, proving there are things Simon does not comprehend. But as she takes the last step in, her mind running ahead to test the currents of thought, she hits a spot of such bitter emptiness that her hope withers, and she is stopped in her tracks.
“River,” Mal says without turning, and his voice is full of things he isn't saying, things she can't read. “Think we need to have a talk, little one.”
She hears a slight emphasis on the final phrase, and the bitter thins for a moment, lets her mind see what he has overheard. “Don't call me that,” she says, forcing herself to go forward, to sit in her seat like a normal person. “Don't want to be little forever. But I can't grow if people keep forcing me down, don't let me up.” She looks directly at him, waits until he reluctantly faces her. “It's rude to listen to what doesn't concern you.”
He looks away again, and she feels that this was somehow wrong, that everything is slipping away too fast for her. “Way I see it, concerned me a good deal. Simon may not have had all his facts right, but he weren't wrong about one thing at least. You gotta stop this mooning over me, dong ma? It ain't right.”
She bites her lip, wraps her arms around her drawn-up knees. “Why not?”
He takes a moment to answer, and she tries to calm herself among the distant stars. “Cause it won't last, this fixation you've got. Right now, it's like the doc said - you got a choice between Jayne and me, and I don't mind saying I can see how I come out the best of that deal. But that don't mean it's right.”
“Feels right. Feels whole.”
He sighs. “Look, River, me and you - no. Your brother good as said it, two of us just don't fit together. There's a big 'verse out there full of folks who'll do you a damn sight better than me.”
She looks at him, wondering if he can truly think this, if the cords of belief that have tied them together have passed around him without his knowledge. “Isn't so. Couldn't be anyone in the 'verse who'd do for me better than you.”
He glances at her, and in that second she sees into him, sees the shadows of fear and mistrust and regret that weave their bitterness around him, before he turns away again. “Lot of the 'verse you ain't seen yet. It's been a long day, be obliged if you'd give a man a little peace now.”
She considers, momentarily forgetting her own emptiness in his. “I'll go,” she says, moving to stand beside him, “if you'll swear to answer me one thing truthfully before I do.”
He looks up at her, more tired than annoyed. “Does it really matter if I do? Conjure you can tell truth from a lie no matter what I intend.”
“True. But it's the form of the thing that matters, as much as the substance.”
“'Spose that's so. Go ahead then, promise I'll give you your truth.”
She pauses, framing the words carefully into meaning. “You said the idea of us isn't right, for reasons to do with me, with my feelings. Didn't say anything about you, things you feel.” She is reluctant to finish it, to come to the point, forces herself to go on. “Do you want me, Mal?”
He stares out into the black, speaks so low she can hardly hear him. “Be a fool not to, albatross.”
She finds it difficult to stand upright for the relief washing over her, feels a glow like she's dancing in the sunrise once more. “Thank you,” she says, and turns to go, letting that be enough for now.
His voice stops her at the doorway. “River.” She turns her head, sees him focused on the charts. “Just cause we want a thing don't always mean we can have it.”
She waits until she is secure in her bunk with the door drawn shut, buried in a bed that's still strange, before she gives in to a storm of both hope and misery.
Part 10 - Master Post - Part 12
Rating: PG-13
Words: ~2100
Pairing: River/Mal, mentions of Kaylee/Simon
Notes: Chapter title and cut text from River of Dreams by Kate Miller-Heidke
XI. You Shy Away
“Mal, why's there a crazy person in the bunk next to mine?”
Looking up from where he's doing his best (well, more like the closest he can get to his best without putting in any real effort, if he's being honest) to turn a heap of protein into something palatable, Mal raises an eyebrow. “I'm gonna assume you're talking 'bout River there, Jayne, cause it'd take a braver man than you to call Zoë crazy.”
Jayne drops into a chair with his usual lack of good grace. “Lot of you are all gone nutty, you think it's a good idea having her up in our quarters. It's askin' for trouble, Mal.”
“If the girl really wanted to kill you, she'd do it just as easily from the rear of the ship as she could from right next door, you know that. Only makes sense to have her up there, what with her doing so much of the flyin' these days. Any case, I said she could have the bunk, so there she stays.”
Though if he's being honest with himself again, Mal's regretting that offer and all its temptations just the tiniest bit now that he knows River's looking at him in all manner of disturbing new ways.
From the table, Jayne's expression shifts into ugly suspicion. “That right? Maybe you got another reason for wantin' her up close, huh? Monty told an interestin' tale the other night 'bout you getting mighty comfortable like with her.” His sullen face breaks into a leer, and Mal has to turn away to suppress the decidedly unhealthy urge to start a fight.
“Ought to look to that mouth of yours 'fore somebody does it for you.”
“Oh come on, Mal,” Jayne protests, leaning back in his chair. “Girl's a mite skinny for my tastes, but don't think any of us'd blame you. 'Cept maybe the doc, of course. Hell, I wondered why you let Inara go, but it's startin' to make sense now.”
When Mal turns around, Jayne sits up straighter in his seat, cause even he's learned to respect the Captain when he's got that particular look on his face. “Only gonna tell you this once, Jayne, and then I expect to hear no more about it, ever,” he says, leaning over the table. “Ain't nothing between River and me. Nothing more than there should be. You got that?”
“Yes, Capt'n,” Jayne mutters, sitting back again. It's not in his nature to be suppressed for long though, and the phrase 'unexpressed thought' never has been part of his vocabulary. “Hey, that mean she's fair game then? Gets lonely 'round here,” he says defensively, in response to Mal's glare.
“Sure thing. Once you get past her brother and his many ways of killin' a man without leaving a trace, and past me with mine, which are messier but still result in you bein' dead, then you can ask a girl who's proven she can lay you out flat if she'd like to warm your bunk. You let me know how that goes.”
“So...that mean yes or not?” Jayne calls, as Mal turns to stalk off down the crew passage.
He doesn't even know why he's so gorram angry, is the thing of it. Maybe it's just Jayne's base implications that've got him all worked up. Or maybe it's the fact, hidden deeper in the picture of a girl dancing in the sunlight and the memory of her voice whispering against his ear, that he wishes he could have told Jayne he was right.
The fact that he's finding it hard to think of reasons why he couldn't, why it's wrong for him to want her, ain't helping a bit.
As he pauses next to the door to his cabin, he can see the door that's now River's is open, light and voices rising up from it. And as he stands and listens, he finds himself with all kinds of reasons why.
***
River is frustrated. The elation of the previous day, the certainty that she could make Mal see, has faded, and she is empty and tired and cross.
This last is due to her brother, who is making a pest of himself.
“You're invading my space,” she tells him, turning where she sits on her bed to face the wall. “Don't want you here. Don't need you here.”
“River, I just want to understand. I only want to help you, you know that. It's just that...well, when Kaylee mentioned you'd been asking her about sex, I-”
“She shouldn't have told you. Wasn't right. Confidences out of their cages make a mess,” she says.
“No, no, River, she didn't mean anything by it. She was just...just joking around. She thought it was harmless, I'm sure.”
River turns her head just enough to glare at him. “She'll be mad. Tells you not to herd me like a sheep.”
Simon sighs, sitting next to her on the bed. “Yes, she does, though not generally in such picturesque terms. But this - River, this is important. You aren't ready for that kind of contact, for the kind of relationship you should have for...that.”
The fact that Simon, the important, self-assured doctor, is full of overwhelming awkwardness at having to discuss sex with his little sister amuses her only for the briefest of seconds. “Can't protect me forever, Simon. Not a doll, or a little girl. You can't make my choices for me.”
“And I'm not trying to,” he says, taking her hand before she tugs it from his grasp. “But the trauma you've been through - it isn't something that we can be certain won't still affect your judgment, your perceptions.”
She refuses to look at him now, hurt and shame building up tears behind her eyes, making them threaten to spill over. “You'll trust me with the ship, but not with my own body?”
She knows without seeing that Simon is no longer looking at her, either. “To be honest...it doesn't matter what I think about the ship, that's Mal's choice. I'm just pleased to see how flying soothes you. You obviously love it, so it makes me happy. But sex - that's a different matter. It's messy and complicated and it can make even totally normal people do insane things. I just can't let you be hurt by something like this, not when you're doing so well.”
“That's not fair,” she whispers. “Can't keep me in a box. Have to let me breathe.”
He sighs again, puts a hand on her shoulder that she refrains from shrugging off with effort, knowing it is placed in love and hope and comfort. “Well,” he says, forcing a smile into his voice, “it's not as though there can be any rush about it. The only men you have to choose from out here are Jayne and the Captain, and I can't honestly picture you with either of them.” He laughs, as much as Simon ever laughs, and she knows he expects her to laugh with him, as though his words don't make her want to cry and scream out her frustrations instead.
“Go away, Simon,” she says, her voice small and cold. “Go have what I can't.”
“Mei mei...” he says, reaching for her again, but she shies away, remains a stubborn wall until he has no choice but to depart. She knows he is sorry, and confused, and troubled, all swirling in him like murky water. But she knows also that he has Kaylee, that she will be his sun, make him grow back into contentment.
Seeking solace of her own, she climbs the ladder, makes her way step by slow step up to the bridge.
She is searching only for the comfort of Serenity's hum, of the accepting presence of the black and the dinosaurs and the memory of Wash.
Instead she finds Mal, and for a second she feels her hope dance within her, bringing its own comfort, proving there are things Simon does not comprehend. But as she takes the last step in, her mind running ahead to test the currents of thought, she hits a spot of such bitter emptiness that her hope withers, and she is stopped in her tracks.
“River,” Mal says without turning, and his voice is full of things he isn't saying, things she can't read. “Think we need to have a talk, little one.”
She hears a slight emphasis on the final phrase, and the bitter thins for a moment, lets her mind see what he has overheard. “Don't call me that,” she says, forcing herself to go forward, to sit in her seat like a normal person. “Don't want to be little forever. But I can't grow if people keep forcing me down, don't let me up.” She looks directly at him, waits until he reluctantly faces her. “It's rude to listen to what doesn't concern you.”
He looks away again, and she feels that this was somehow wrong, that everything is slipping away too fast for her. “Way I see it, concerned me a good deal. Simon may not have had all his facts right, but he weren't wrong about one thing at least. You gotta stop this mooning over me, dong ma? It ain't right.”
She bites her lip, wraps her arms around her drawn-up knees. “Why not?”
He takes a moment to answer, and she tries to calm herself among the distant stars. “Cause it won't last, this fixation you've got. Right now, it's like the doc said - you got a choice between Jayne and me, and I don't mind saying I can see how I come out the best of that deal. But that don't mean it's right.”
“Feels right. Feels whole.”
He sighs. “Look, River, me and you - no. Your brother good as said it, two of us just don't fit together. There's a big 'verse out there full of folks who'll do you a damn sight better than me.”
She looks at him, wondering if he can truly think this, if the cords of belief that have tied them together have passed around him without his knowledge. “Isn't so. Couldn't be anyone in the 'verse who'd do for me better than you.”
He glances at her, and in that second she sees into him, sees the shadows of fear and mistrust and regret that weave their bitterness around him, before he turns away again. “Lot of the 'verse you ain't seen yet. It's been a long day, be obliged if you'd give a man a little peace now.”
She considers, momentarily forgetting her own emptiness in his. “I'll go,” she says, moving to stand beside him, “if you'll swear to answer me one thing truthfully before I do.”
He looks up at her, more tired than annoyed. “Does it really matter if I do? Conjure you can tell truth from a lie no matter what I intend.”
“True. But it's the form of the thing that matters, as much as the substance.”
“'Spose that's so. Go ahead then, promise I'll give you your truth.”
She pauses, framing the words carefully into meaning. “You said the idea of us isn't right, for reasons to do with me, with my feelings. Didn't say anything about you, things you feel.” She is reluctant to finish it, to come to the point, forces herself to go on. “Do you want me, Mal?”
He stares out into the black, speaks so low she can hardly hear him. “Be a fool not to, albatross.”
She finds it difficult to stand upright for the relief washing over her, feels a glow like she's dancing in the sunrise once more. “Thank you,” she says, and turns to go, letting that be enough for now.
His voice stops her at the doorway. “River.” She turns her head, sees him focused on the charts. “Just cause we want a thing don't always mean we can have it.”
She waits until she is secure in her bunk with the door drawn shut, buried in a bed that's still strange, before she gives in to a storm of both hope and misery.
Part 10 - Master Post - Part 12