Fic: "Let Her Cry"
FicMix Title: The Tears Fall Down
Title: Let Her Cry
Character(s)/Pairing: Rayne
Rating: PG
Word Count: 577
Disclaimer: Not mine!
-Author Notes: Fic 1 of this ficmix. Chronologically, though, it'll probably be one of the last.
Let Her Cry
I say that I don't care
I just run my hands through her dark hair
and then I pray to God
You gotta help me fly away
And just let her cry if the tears fall down like rain
let her sing if it eases all her pain
let her go, let her walk right out on me
and if the sun comes up tomorrow,
let her be
Jayne runs his hand through his short hair, sighing as he sinks down onto his bed. "You're gettin' worse."
River whines beside him, curled up in a ball amongst the thick, well-knit blankets of the Cobbs.
He sighs again.
River's whines heighten in pitch, and she kicks rapidly at Jayne's hip. "They... Coming, they're coming." She sobs dryly, laughing without mirth. "They're coming, falling down like little drops of rain. I can't get away, can't get away."
She is intoxicated, but she has not had any alcohol. Jayne is not sure if she's been medicated or if her brain is just playing tricks on her - if she's hearing voices, seeing things, if there's something going on that no one else can possibly conceive. She has not been talking sense for over a day, and she has hidden herself in his bunk. Simon has been looking for her, in a constant state of near-hysteria, but River does not want to be found.
Jayne tells himself that he does not care, that he doesn't care where she is or what condition she's in - but he has been telling himself that for a long time, and that dark, guilty feeling has never quite gone away.
She whines again; her sobs have quieted, but he can hear the uncontrollable, soft sniffles that mean she is crying. He does not know what to do; he does not know how to help and he is torn. He does not want to care; he tells himself he does not care. But she is there, in a desperate, clinging ball on his hard, messy bed. She does not want comfort. She does not want him at all, only a break from solitude, only a safe, far-away place where she could lay down and cry. She was giving up. Simon wanted her to keep fighting.
There was sex; there was messy, angry, half-mad joining where he didn't know if she was mad or if he was. He didn't know why she needed it; he didn't know why he gave it to her. But when she slid beside him, her body bare and shining like ivory, he could only let her take what she was so greedily begging for.
She sits up, shaking, and angrily pulls on the ends of her hair. She picks up one of his boots and throws it as hard as she can against the wall. It reverberates with a loud, angry "thud" and Jayne closes his eyes, running one hand across his face. "Don't break nothin' girl," he says raggedly. She ignores him.
"They'll find you soon," she says, standing up. "They always do. Wires crossing. Double-blind. I don't want to watch the clouds break." She steps daintily through the mess on the floor, standing in front of him. "Don't look for me. The girl will be gone."
She gives him one last, stern look - and Jayne doesn't know what she means, he never knows what she means. He just watches her go as she climbs up out of the hatch, wondering why she ever came down in the first place. And he lets himself feel, for just a moment, and he wishes so hard it hurts that she was just for one moment all right again. When she closes him in, he takes out a half-full bottle of the most expensive whiskey he owns and he drinks. He drinks until he makes as much sense as she does.
~~~
Feedback is always appreciated.
Title: Let Her Cry
Character(s)/Pairing: Rayne
Rating: PG
Word Count: 577
Disclaimer: Not mine!
-Author Notes: Fic 1 of this ficmix. Chronologically, though, it'll probably be one of the last.
Let Her Cry
I say that I don't care
I just run my hands through her dark hair
and then I pray to God
You gotta help me fly away
And just let her cry if the tears fall down like rain
let her sing if it eases all her pain
let her go, let her walk right out on me
and if the sun comes up tomorrow,
let her be
Jayne runs his hand through his short hair, sighing as he sinks down onto his bed. "You're gettin' worse."
River whines beside him, curled up in a ball amongst the thick, well-knit blankets of the Cobbs.
He sighs again.
River's whines heighten in pitch, and she kicks rapidly at Jayne's hip. "They... Coming, they're coming." She sobs dryly, laughing without mirth. "They're coming, falling down like little drops of rain. I can't get away, can't get away."
She is intoxicated, but she has not had any alcohol. Jayne is not sure if she's been medicated or if her brain is just playing tricks on her - if she's hearing voices, seeing things, if there's something going on that no one else can possibly conceive. She has not been talking sense for over a day, and she has hidden herself in his bunk. Simon has been looking for her, in a constant state of near-hysteria, but River does not want to be found.
Jayne tells himself that he does not care, that he doesn't care where she is or what condition she's in - but he has been telling himself that for a long time, and that dark, guilty feeling has never quite gone away.
She whines again; her sobs have quieted, but he can hear the uncontrollable, soft sniffles that mean she is crying. He does not know what to do; he does not know how to help and he is torn. He does not want to care; he tells himself he does not care. But she is there, in a desperate, clinging ball on his hard, messy bed. She does not want comfort. She does not want him at all, only a break from solitude, only a safe, far-away place where she could lay down and cry. She was giving up. Simon wanted her to keep fighting.
There was sex; there was messy, angry, half-mad joining where he didn't know if she was mad or if he was. He didn't know why she needed it; he didn't know why he gave it to her. But when she slid beside him, her body bare and shining like ivory, he could only let her take what she was so greedily begging for.
She sits up, shaking, and angrily pulls on the ends of her hair. She picks up one of his boots and throws it as hard as she can against the wall. It reverberates with a loud, angry "thud" and Jayne closes his eyes, running one hand across his face. "Don't break nothin' girl," he says raggedly. She ignores him.
"They'll find you soon," she says, standing up. "They always do. Wires crossing. Double-blind. I don't want to watch the clouds break." She steps daintily through the mess on the floor, standing in front of him. "Don't look for me. The girl will be gone."
She gives him one last, stern look - and Jayne doesn't know what she means, he never knows what she means. He just watches her go as she climbs up out of the hatch, wondering why she ever came down in the first place. And he lets himself feel, for just a moment, and he wishes so hard it hurts that she was just for one moment all right again. When she closes him in, he takes out a half-full bottle of the most expensive whiskey he owns and he drinks. He drinks until he makes as much sense as she does.
~~~
Feedback is always appreciated.