"Just to Feel Alive." Rated: PG-15.
Title: Just to Feel Alive
Character(s)/Pairing: River and Jayne, only sort of shippery, mentions of Simon
Prompt: angst and smut
Written For: adverbia, for rayne_exchange
Rating: PG-15
Word Count: 1478
Disclaimer: Not mine!
-Author Notes: Er... this is kind of a weird one.
Just to Feel Alive
He will take off her clothes; carefully, like he'll hurt her if he isn't gentle. She is delicate and he would be greatly distressed is his own actions break his new prize.
Blood dripped from her forehead as Simon screamed. He ran toward her, nearly tripping over his own feet, desperate to save her, refusing to believe that she wouldn't be all right.
The rest of the crew quickly trickled in; they had heard the fall, they had heard his scream. They wanted to know if she'll recover, if she was going to wake up; they all wanted to know why. Simon assured them that his sister was going to recover; Simon assured them because he could not assure himself. He made no mention of how she got hurt, he just picked her up and took her to the infirmary and silently - shooing the others away - he did what he could for her.
When she woke up, he asked her why. Why she was playing up so high, how she lost her footing.
She smiled and told him she jumped. She did not want to lie.
There will be a look on her face, glazed over and numb, that will give him pause. He has never been with anyone like her before; he will wonder if that is just her way of showing that she's enjoying it.
After he removes her dress he will lay her down on his mattress like she is made of glass. He will try to talk to her, to re-assure her, but she will not respond and things will fall back to silence.
He will quickly remove his own clothes, watching her to gauge her reaction. But she will not speak, she will not move - and he will start to wonder whether or not she wants this like she said she did.
Simon found her one day, in the infirmary. She was sitting on the ground, her expression serene, with his old-fashioned metal scalpel in her hand. There was a series of small, precise cuts of exactly the same length up both legs and her left arm. There was blood pooled around her, staining her dress and dried in patchy brown on the back side of her legs.
Simon's voice was gone.
River smiled, her eyes big and wide and empty. I'm real, she told him. She could bleed, she could feel, just like everyone else. Just like a real girl.
Simon fell to his knees beside her. He knew recovery would be hard, but he never imagined it would be that hard.
He wanted to tell her that of course she was real, but he couldn't speak. He just held her, arms loose around her, as he tried not to let himself cry.
She will remain still, only blinking, and he will stare at her, his shirt off and his pants unfastened. His face will furl into a frown as he kicks his boots off. He has never minded docile - even submissive - women, but when he sees she is laying there like she is a statue. Like she is about to do something that she has to not wants to, he will get angry. He will demand answers from his little doll.
Jayne was alone, fixing himself a cup of coffee, when River sidles up beside him. He was surprised to see her, but he didn't acknowledge her.
She only wanted to feel alive.
She wants to be real, she told him. She pressed against him, her little hands stroking his sides. He had to make her finally feel real.
***
"What the hell is wrong with you?" he barks. "What kind o' go se are you tryin' to pull?"
He is not surprised when she does not answer, but it only serves to enrage him further.
"Y'think it's funny to watch me get all worked up? What the fuck is this even about? You think you're doin' me a favor here, you little freak?"
Her eyes seem to brighten and she looks up at him, focuses on his face. Her expression is still mostly blank, but he thinks he sees distress there suddenly, as well.
"Well?" He charges, advancing on her like a thundering army. He climbs half-on the bed with her, leaning over her and pushing her wrists down into the firm mattress, securing her. "Give me a gorram answer. Right the hell now."
She still doesn't answer and he tightens his grip. It is hard enough to hurt because she makes a noise not-quite a whine and raises her head just a little to better meet his eyes.
"You must make me real."
He sneers. "Must? Jayne don't gotta do anythin' ruttin' thing he ain't already of a mind to do." He shakes his head and lets go of her wrists. "I don't turn down free sexin', girl, 'specially when it's offered with out no strings an' with open arms, but..." He sighs. "I can't do it. Not like this."
River sits up suddenly, grabbing hold of his biceps. "You must!" she says, her voice strained and desperate. "You must. The girl has no other options. She is real; she is real."
Jayne stares at her, bemused. "Uh, yeah. You're real. I know."
River's lip trembles a little and she shakes her head slowly back and forth. "But I don't."
He sighs and leans back. He pushes her over a little and sits down beside her. She is still naked and he is still a little distracted, but there is obviously a much bigger issue at hand.
"Look," he says, "sure, a good tumble'll make you feel more real'n near 'bout anything else, but... You can't just force it t'happen. You gotta want it. You gotta think whatever fella you end up sexin' is the shiniest thing ever. Then you get your stars burstin' heart poundin' real." He looks at her for a long moment. She looks back. "Not bein' crazy's made you crazier than ever. An' you're jus' sittin' there like some ruttin' doll! You can't take it. You don't feel real, then you better gorram start tryin'. An' I don't mean hurtin' yourself or tryin' to seduce big, handsome mercs like you been doin'. You gotta feel. You just been sittin' around like you're made o' rags."
"I do not understand."
"Get angry! Get sad! Go beat somebody til he can't see, 'r go cry 'til those big eyes o' yours pop out. Ain't no good just bottlin' it all up inside."
River just looks down at the worn blanket she is sitting on.
"Here." Jayne spreads his arms, offering his chest as a target. "Hit me."
River's brows furrow a little. "Why?"
"Get angry," he instructs, a little exasperated with her. "Jus' let yourself go."
Weakly, River pulls her hand into a fist and makes one feeble jab at his breastbone.
"No," Jayne says. "None o' that." He pushes her, roughly. "Hit me."
She responds with a little more force. He pushes her again. She frowns and hits him a little harder. He grinns savagely and hits her back. That is the catalyst she needs and with a growl she pushes him as hard as can off the bed. He quickly gets up and she scrambles after him. With stunning grace and speed, she spins around and kicks him squarely in the chest. She yells, her eyes watering, and pulls the sheet off his weapons. She pulls the sheets off his bed, still screaming, still crying, and then kicks both his boots as hard as she can.
Jayne stands and she is trembling, looking around for something else to help her find release. There is nothing in his bunk left to fight, and her tears bubble over until she is sobbing. He walks over to where she has sunken down to the floor, and with one brisk tug he pulls her to her feet. He puts both arms around her and lets her cry into his chest.
"I felt that," she whispers. "I felt it."
"So you know you're real now?"
She nods. "Yes. Real. She still does not feel like the others do, but... but that does not mean she cannot feel."
"Yeah." Jayne nods, sliding one hand up and down her bare back. "See? That's all you gotta remember."
"You are more kind than you want others to think," she says. "And I think you are shiny. Please."
"Girl...." He pushes her away gently, looking at her askance. "What're you saying?"
She puts one hand on his cheek. He is starkly, suddenly reminded that she is still nude. "This time she will not force it. I want it. I want you."
He stares down at her, his eyes on her lips; he is half inclined to kiss her. But all he says is "Good. 'Cause I want you, too."
~~~
Character(s)/Pairing: River and Jayne, only sort of shippery, mentions of Simon
Prompt: angst and smut
Written For: adverbia, for rayne_exchange
Rating: PG-15
Word Count: 1478
Disclaimer: Not mine!
-Author Notes: Er... this is kind of a weird one.
Just to Feel Alive
He will take off her clothes; carefully, like he'll hurt her if he isn't gentle. She is delicate and he would be greatly distressed is his own actions break his new prize.
Blood dripped from her forehead as Simon screamed. He ran toward her, nearly tripping over his own feet, desperate to save her, refusing to believe that she wouldn't be all right.
The rest of the crew quickly trickled in; they had heard the fall, they had heard his scream. They wanted to know if she'll recover, if she was going to wake up; they all wanted to know why. Simon assured them that his sister was going to recover; Simon assured them because he could not assure himself. He made no mention of how she got hurt, he just picked her up and took her to the infirmary and silently - shooing the others away - he did what he could for her.
When she woke up, he asked her why. Why she was playing up so high, how she lost her footing.
She smiled and told him she jumped. She did not want to lie.
There will be a look on her face, glazed over and numb, that will give him pause. He has never been with anyone like her before; he will wonder if that is just her way of showing that she's enjoying it.
After he removes her dress he will lay her down on his mattress like she is made of glass. He will try to talk to her, to re-assure her, but she will not respond and things will fall back to silence.
He will quickly remove his own clothes, watching her to gauge her reaction. But she will not speak, she will not move - and he will start to wonder whether or not she wants this like she said she did.
Simon found her one day, in the infirmary. She was sitting on the ground, her expression serene, with his old-fashioned metal scalpel in her hand. There was a series of small, precise cuts of exactly the same length up both legs and her left arm. There was blood pooled around her, staining her dress and dried in patchy brown on the back side of her legs.
Simon's voice was gone.
River smiled, her eyes big and wide and empty. I'm real, she told him. She could bleed, she could feel, just like everyone else. Just like a real girl.
Simon fell to his knees beside her. He knew recovery would be hard, but he never imagined it would be that hard.
He wanted to tell her that of course she was real, but he couldn't speak. He just held her, arms loose around her, as he tried not to let himself cry.
She will remain still, only blinking, and he will stare at her, his shirt off and his pants unfastened. His face will furl into a frown as he kicks his boots off. He has never minded docile - even submissive - women, but when he sees she is laying there like she is a statue. Like she is about to do something that she has to not wants to, he will get angry. He will demand answers from his little doll.
Jayne was alone, fixing himself a cup of coffee, when River sidles up beside him. He was surprised to see her, but he didn't acknowledge her.
She only wanted to feel alive.
She wants to be real, she told him. She pressed against him, her little hands stroking his sides. He had to make her finally feel real.
***
"What the hell is wrong with you?" he barks. "What kind o' go se are you tryin' to pull?"
He is not surprised when she does not answer, but it only serves to enrage him further.
"Y'think it's funny to watch me get all worked up? What the fuck is this even about? You think you're doin' me a favor here, you little freak?"
Her eyes seem to brighten and she looks up at him, focuses on his face. Her expression is still mostly blank, but he thinks he sees distress there suddenly, as well.
"Well?" He charges, advancing on her like a thundering army. He climbs half-on the bed with her, leaning over her and pushing her wrists down into the firm mattress, securing her. "Give me a gorram answer. Right the hell now."
She still doesn't answer and he tightens his grip. It is hard enough to hurt because she makes a noise not-quite a whine and raises her head just a little to better meet his eyes.
"You must make me real."
He sneers. "Must? Jayne don't gotta do anythin' ruttin' thing he ain't already of a mind to do." He shakes his head and lets go of her wrists. "I don't turn down free sexin', girl, 'specially when it's offered with out no strings an' with open arms, but..." He sighs. "I can't do it. Not like this."
River sits up suddenly, grabbing hold of his biceps. "You must!" she says, her voice strained and desperate. "You must. The girl has no other options. She is real; she is real."
Jayne stares at her, bemused. "Uh, yeah. You're real. I know."
River's lip trembles a little and she shakes her head slowly back and forth. "But I don't."
He sighs and leans back. He pushes her over a little and sits down beside her. She is still naked and he is still a little distracted, but there is obviously a much bigger issue at hand.
"Look," he says, "sure, a good tumble'll make you feel more real'n near 'bout anything else, but... You can't just force it t'happen. You gotta want it. You gotta think whatever fella you end up sexin' is the shiniest thing ever. Then you get your stars burstin' heart poundin' real." He looks at her for a long moment. She looks back. "Not bein' crazy's made you crazier than ever. An' you're jus' sittin' there like some ruttin' doll! You can't take it. You don't feel real, then you better gorram start tryin'. An' I don't mean hurtin' yourself or tryin' to seduce big, handsome mercs like you been doin'. You gotta feel. You just been sittin' around like you're made o' rags."
"I do not understand."
"Get angry! Get sad! Go beat somebody til he can't see, 'r go cry 'til those big eyes o' yours pop out. Ain't no good just bottlin' it all up inside."
River just looks down at the worn blanket she is sitting on.
"Here." Jayne spreads his arms, offering his chest as a target. "Hit me."
River's brows furrow a little. "Why?"
"Get angry," he instructs, a little exasperated with her. "Jus' let yourself go."
Weakly, River pulls her hand into a fist and makes one feeble jab at his breastbone.
"No," Jayne says. "None o' that." He pushes her, roughly. "Hit me."
She responds with a little more force. He pushes her again. She frowns and hits him a little harder. He grinns savagely and hits her back. That is the catalyst she needs and with a growl she pushes him as hard as can off the bed. He quickly gets up and she scrambles after him. With stunning grace and speed, she spins around and kicks him squarely in the chest. She yells, her eyes watering, and pulls the sheet off his weapons. She pulls the sheets off his bed, still screaming, still crying, and then kicks both his boots as hard as she can.
Jayne stands and she is trembling, looking around for something else to help her find release. There is nothing in his bunk left to fight, and her tears bubble over until she is sobbing. He walks over to where she has sunken down to the floor, and with one brisk tug he pulls her to her feet. He puts both arms around her and lets her cry into his chest.
"I felt that," she whispers. "I felt it."
"So you know you're real now?"
She nods. "Yes. Real. She still does not feel like the others do, but... but that does not mean she cannot feel."
"Yeah." Jayne nods, sliding one hand up and down her bare back. "See? That's all you gotta remember."
"You are more kind than you want others to think," she says. "And I think you are shiny. Please."
"Girl...." He pushes her away gently, looking at her askance. "What're you saying?"
She puts one hand on his cheek. He is starkly, suddenly reminded that she is still nude. "This time she will not force it. I want it. I want you."
He stares down at her, his eyes on her lips; he is half inclined to kiss her. But all he says is "Good. 'Cause I want you, too."
~~~