"The Integral of Isolation."
Firefly fic remix
Rayne
This fic is a remix of adverbia's Snow Has No Derivative
The Integral of Isolation
Jayne smacked the crackling comm against his thigh. "Gorram... piece o' go se." He growled and tried again to contact the captain. "Mal? Can ya hear me, Mal?" There was only a static sort of crackling - no discernible words. Jayne cursed.
"Unable to communicate?"
Jayne pulled a disgusted face and shut off the comm. "Yeah. Unable. Looks like we're stuck out here 'til the storm passes. Can't get a hold o' Mal 'r anyone."
He grumbled to himself - mentally, River assumed, as she never saw his lips move - as they drove along. The cold was biting, unrepentent; the snow was still falling and the temperature was dropping at an alarming rate. The wind pierced all her layers, and River felt a bone-deep chill that she wasn't sure would ever leave. Jayne's mind was nearly blank, save for that soft grumble rumbling at the surface. He was focused on finding cover for the night, his large, muscle-bound body much warmer than hers. River scooted closer, trying to soak up some of that heat.
The moon they were on was bleak and unwelcoming, a landscape of gray, rocky plains. Snow was piling up around them and everything for miles around looked exactly the same. Jayne seemed to know where he was going, however, and River hoped for her sake that he was as good a tracker as he claimed. Ground travel would have been impossible; but they sped above the banks of thick, eerie snow in the hovercraft that was soon going to be out of fuel.
"See them rocks over there?" Jayne asked, gesturing with a tilt of his head. River squinted, wiping the snow off her goggles.
"Yes."
"This cold's playin' havoc with our fuel cells. We're goin' to try to get some shelter over there; got a tarp in here, so's we can stay in the mule."
River stayed silent, watching as the outcropping of dark shale crept closer and closer. Jayne steered, circling around and slowing as he reached an overhang. The wind was less biting, coming from behind them, and fountains of snow rose up on either side with each gust, thick, porous clouds of white buffeted up towards the metallic, swirling sky.
"Sun's going down soon," he told her as soon as they'd come to a stop.
River shook the snow out of her hair and pulled off her goggles. The wind didn't cut like it did out in the open, but the air was getting colder, as though the sun sucked out the air's warmth, drawing it like a vacuum below the horizon as it sank.
Jayne hopped out of the mule and River watched with interest as his boots made deep tracks in the thick white powder. Each snowflake was unique, she'd been told, and she stared at the dull, gun-metal sky as each fat, feathery flake drifted down to join its brothers. River watched in fascination. "Precipitation pixels - from the sky like parachuters. Snow has no derivative."
"What?" Jayne sighed raggedly, as though talking to her was some great ordeal. For him, she mused, it probably was. "Ni zi, what the hell're you on about now? Snow ain't no... whatever, pixies 'r d'rivatives. It's just pretty."
She scowled and leveled him with a 'how-do-you-manage-to-dress-yourself' glare. "Pretty?" she asked. She shook her head. "Too chaotic; whiteness, blanket of eternal cold."
Jayne just rolled his eyes. "Yeah, uh-huh. What the hell ever." He rooted around the back, digging for some sort of cover. "Here," he said, tossing her two lightsticks and a thick, wooly blanket. "Spread that out on the floor f'r us an' then break open them lights once I get the tarp over us."
"I understand."
River scrambled down, laying the thick blanket down, a pallet on the floor between the two bench seats. A veil of darkness suddenly descended as Jayne stretched the tarp over the mule. She heard the scratchy sounds of him securing it and a moment later Jayne peeled it open and crawled inside. As instructed, River snapped the lights on and handed one to Jayne. The mule's interior was filled with a soft yellow glow, and their faces were lit up in a play of shine and shadow.
Outside the wind had started howling, and from the pitter-patter abover her, River could only imagine the snowfall was getting heavier, too.
"It's only gonna get colder," he said quietly. "S'lay down an' let's get warm. Ain't got nothin' to cover us with but my jacket, so uh..." He cleared his throat. "Look, moonbrain, don't get the wrong idea, 'r nothin', but we gotta share body heat. An' I ain't keen to be close to ya, but don't really see another way."
She looked at him askance. "You mean fit together; girl and man and - "
"Whoa!" He sat up, the top of his head just hitting the tarp. "Hey, no fittin' together goin' on here, crazy."
"Not like that," she chastised. Men were such boobs sometimes. "Silverware - big spoon, little spoon."
"Oh. Well... oh." He nodded. "Yeah, uh... that's what I meant." He cleared his throat again and laid down on the blanket. His back was against the front seats; River stretched herself out beside him. Jayne wrapped one heavy arm around her waist and tugged, so her back was pressed against his chest. "You okay? Comf'table?"
"Yes," she said quietly, trying to focus on anything but the firm, warm width of Jayne. She closed her eyes and pictured the snow falling in great drifts, pictured the smooth, solid slate of the sky - not flesh, not muscle, not bone. They were the only two living things as far as she could Read and she was unused to such a deep silence. Even Jayne's mind was calm, and she'd have to dig to get any thoughts from it.
They lay there for a long, silent moment, with only their respective heartbeats to punctuate the thick swirling whoosh of the wind and snow around them. It was safe and small where they were, and instinctively River curled closer.
Jayne grunted as he tightened his hold on her thin body. "You okay?"
"It is loud outside. The storm is laughing at us."
"Now it's laughin' at us? Thought it weren't... or was... Thought it was no deriva-somethin' a second ago."
River sighed. "Causes mathematical mayhem. Has nothing to do with emotion."
"Oh." His mental meanderings were derogatory. "O' course."
His hand, big and coarse, was on her stomach. He tapped his fingers gently, absent-mindedly. It was very difficult to concentrate on anything else. "The snow is above - one blanket over two bodies." Jayne didn't respond. River was very, very close to a discovery. "The integral of one over us is the natural log of you and me. Plus a constant." She paused. "Outsiders. We are the ones left out, who do not fit in. That is our constant. We are the variable."
"Hey now, girly, I ain't left out o' nothin'. And I ain't variable, neither." River could feel his confusion and annoyance. If she looked at him, she would bet all of Osiris he was scowling. "An' what in the sphincter o' hell's an inter-gral anyway?"
She giggled. "Area under a curve." Then, out of nowhere, she said, "Today is Valentine's Day."
"Huh? What's that?"
"Holiday on Earth-that-was," she explained, drawing her arm around her body so it rested right on top of his. "From a martyr. Became a day to give gifts of chocolate and flowers to one's sweetheart."
"I ain't got a sweetheart," Jayne grunted, "so what's it matter to me?"
For a moment, River was silent. "I do not have a sweetheart, either. It is very lonely."
That caused a spike of suspicion to flare in Jayne's mind. "Lonely? Now don't be gettin' no ideas, you crazy, jus' 'cause we're layin' together. That why you were talkin' on curves an' wood an' me an' you?"
River snorted. "Logarithms have nothing to do with trees."
"Yeah, well..." Jayne did not know what to say to that; he was still marginally confused and River's sudden talk of sweethearts had him slightly disconcerted. And it was still cold. "I don't want you gettin' no ideas like that."
They lay there for a few minutes longer, talking idly. River shivered a little from the cold and suddenly there was a pungent thought present in Jayne's mind. "What?" she asked. "I smell your idea."
"Well..." He did not want to offer the suggestion, but he was nearly as cold as she was. "We could get a mite bit warmer if'n we were to... Uh... Get naked. An' cuddle."
"Cuddle?" The idea of Jayne cuddling seemed ludicrous.
"That way we could pile all our clothes on top o' us."
"Oh." River thought about it for a moment and quickly came to the conclusion that warmth was a commodity to be sought after, no matter through what methods it must be obtained. "I accept your proposal, man-called-Jayne."
He grunted and pushed her away from him. River sat up; behind her, Jayne took off his clothers layer by layer. Obediently, she stripped out of her own coverings, as well. Silently, they lay back down, face to face this time. And Jayne lay their clothes out in strips on top of them, like papier-mâché on a Jayne and River frame.
His long, solid body pressed against every inch of her. It had never been more apparent that Jayne was male, and River was glad that they were alone. It was calming - a serene, soothing sensation as they lay together underneath the heavy snow on that bleak, desolate winter moon.
"Jayne?" she asked, feeling his hand splayed out, firm and warm, at the base of her spine.
"What?"
She put her forehead on his chest. "Happy Valentine's Day."
~~~
Bah! This did not come out at all like I'd hoped - it's basically just the same story. But without clothes this time. Heh. Curses. I think I fail at remix. Epically.
Rayne
This fic is a remix of adverbia's Snow Has No Derivative
The Integral of Isolation
Jayne smacked the crackling comm against his thigh. "Gorram... piece o' go se." He growled and tried again to contact the captain. "Mal? Can ya hear me, Mal?" There was only a static sort of crackling - no discernible words. Jayne cursed.
"Unable to communicate?"
Jayne pulled a disgusted face and shut off the comm. "Yeah. Unable. Looks like we're stuck out here 'til the storm passes. Can't get a hold o' Mal 'r anyone."
He grumbled to himself - mentally, River assumed, as she never saw his lips move - as they drove along. The cold was biting, unrepentent; the snow was still falling and the temperature was dropping at an alarming rate. The wind pierced all her layers, and River felt a bone-deep chill that she wasn't sure would ever leave. Jayne's mind was nearly blank, save for that soft grumble rumbling at the surface. He was focused on finding cover for the night, his large, muscle-bound body much warmer than hers. River scooted closer, trying to soak up some of that heat.
The moon they were on was bleak and unwelcoming, a landscape of gray, rocky plains. Snow was piling up around them and everything for miles around looked exactly the same. Jayne seemed to know where he was going, however, and River hoped for her sake that he was as good a tracker as he claimed. Ground travel would have been impossible; but they sped above the banks of thick, eerie snow in the hovercraft that was soon going to be out of fuel.
"See them rocks over there?" Jayne asked, gesturing with a tilt of his head. River squinted, wiping the snow off her goggles.
"Yes."
"This cold's playin' havoc with our fuel cells. We're goin' to try to get some shelter over there; got a tarp in here, so's we can stay in the mule."
River stayed silent, watching as the outcropping of dark shale crept closer and closer. Jayne steered, circling around and slowing as he reached an overhang. The wind was less biting, coming from behind them, and fountains of snow rose up on either side with each gust, thick, porous clouds of white buffeted up towards the metallic, swirling sky.
"Sun's going down soon," he told her as soon as they'd come to a stop.
River shook the snow out of her hair and pulled off her goggles. The wind didn't cut like it did out in the open, but the air was getting colder, as though the sun sucked out the air's warmth, drawing it like a vacuum below the horizon as it sank.
Jayne hopped out of the mule and River watched with interest as his boots made deep tracks in the thick white powder. Each snowflake was unique, she'd been told, and she stared at the dull, gun-metal sky as each fat, feathery flake drifted down to join its brothers. River watched in fascination. "Precipitation pixels - from the sky like parachuters. Snow has no derivative."
"What?" Jayne sighed raggedly, as though talking to her was some great ordeal. For him, she mused, it probably was. "Ni zi, what the hell're you on about now? Snow ain't no... whatever, pixies 'r d'rivatives. It's just pretty."
She scowled and leveled him with a 'how-do-you-manage-to-dress-yourself' glare. "Pretty?" she asked. She shook her head. "Too chaotic; whiteness, blanket of eternal cold."
Jayne just rolled his eyes. "Yeah, uh-huh. What the hell ever." He rooted around the back, digging for some sort of cover. "Here," he said, tossing her two lightsticks and a thick, wooly blanket. "Spread that out on the floor f'r us an' then break open them lights once I get the tarp over us."
"I understand."
River scrambled down, laying the thick blanket down, a pallet on the floor between the two bench seats. A veil of darkness suddenly descended as Jayne stretched the tarp over the mule. She heard the scratchy sounds of him securing it and a moment later Jayne peeled it open and crawled inside. As instructed, River snapped the lights on and handed one to Jayne. The mule's interior was filled with a soft yellow glow, and their faces were lit up in a play of shine and shadow.
Outside the wind had started howling, and from the pitter-patter abover her, River could only imagine the snowfall was getting heavier, too.
"It's only gonna get colder," he said quietly. "S'lay down an' let's get warm. Ain't got nothin' to cover us with but my jacket, so uh..." He cleared his throat. "Look, moonbrain, don't get the wrong idea, 'r nothin', but we gotta share body heat. An' I ain't keen to be close to ya, but don't really see another way."
She looked at him askance. "You mean fit together; girl and man and - "
"Whoa!" He sat up, the top of his head just hitting the tarp. "Hey, no fittin' together goin' on here, crazy."
"Not like that," she chastised. Men were such boobs sometimes. "Silverware - big spoon, little spoon."
"Oh. Well... oh." He nodded. "Yeah, uh... that's what I meant." He cleared his throat again and laid down on the blanket. His back was against the front seats; River stretched herself out beside him. Jayne wrapped one heavy arm around her waist and tugged, so her back was pressed against his chest. "You okay? Comf'table?"
"Yes," she said quietly, trying to focus on anything but the firm, warm width of Jayne. She closed her eyes and pictured the snow falling in great drifts, pictured the smooth, solid slate of the sky - not flesh, not muscle, not bone. They were the only two living things as far as she could Read and she was unused to such a deep silence. Even Jayne's mind was calm, and she'd have to dig to get any thoughts from it.
They lay there for a long, silent moment, with only their respective heartbeats to punctuate the thick swirling whoosh of the wind and snow around them. It was safe and small where they were, and instinctively River curled closer.
Jayne grunted as he tightened his hold on her thin body. "You okay?"
"It is loud outside. The storm is laughing at us."
"Now it's laughin' at us? Thought it weren't... or was... Thought it was no deriva-somethin' a second ago."
River sighed. "Causes mathematical mayhem. Has nothing to do with emotion."
"Oh." His mental meanderings were derogatory. "O' course."
His hand, big and coarse, was on her stomach. He tapped his fingers gently, absent-mindedly. It was very difficult to concentrate on anything else. "The snow is above - one blanket over two bodies." Jayne didn't respond. River was very, very close to a discovery. "The integral of one over us is the natural log of you and me. Plus a constant." She paused. "Outsiders. We are the ones left out, who do not fit in. That is our constant. We are the variable."
"Hey now, girly, I ain't left out o' nothin'. And I ain't variable, neither." River could feel his confusion and annoyance. If she looked at him, she would bet all of Osiris he was scowling. "An' what in the sphincter o' hell's an inter-gral anyway?"
She giggled. "Area under a curve." Then, out of nowhere, she said, "Today is Valentine's Day."
"Huh? What's that?"
"Holiday on Earth-that-was," she explained, drawing her arm around her body so it rested right on top of his. "From a martyr. Became a day to give gifts of chocolate and flowers to one's sweetheart."
"I ain't got a sweetheart," Jayne grunted, "so what's it matter to me?"
For a moment, River was silent. "I do not have a sweetheart, either. It is very lonely."
That caused a spike of suspicion to flare in Jayne's mind. "Lonely? Now don't be gettin' no ideas, you crazy, jus' 'cause we're layin' together. That why you were talkin' on curves an' wood an' me an' you?"
River snorted. "Logarithms have nothing to do with trees."
"Yeah, well..." Jayne did not know what to say to that; he was still marginally confused and River's sudden talk of sweethearts had him slightly disconcerted. And it was still cold. "I don't want you gettin' no ideas like that."
They lay there for a few minutes longer, talking idly. River shivered a little from the cold and suddenly there was a pungent thought present in Jayne's mind. "What?" she asked. "I smell your idea."
"Well..." He did not want to offer the suggestion, but he was nearly as cold as she was. "We could get a mite bit warmer if'n we were to... Uh... Get naked. An' cuddle."
"Cuddle?" The idea of Jayne cuddling seemed ludicrous.
"That way we could pile all our clothes on top o' us."
"Oh." River thought about it for a moment and quickly came to the conclusion that warmth was a commodity to be sought after, no matter through what methods it must be obtained. "I accept your proposal, man-called-Jayne."
He grunted and pushed her away from him. River sat up; behind her, Jayne took off his clothers layer by layer. Obediently, she stripped out of her own coverings, as well. Silently, they lay back down, face to face this time. And Jayne lay their clothes out in strips on top of them, like papier-mâché on a Jayne and River frame.
His long, solid body pressed against every inch of her. It had never been more apparent that Jayne was male, and River was glad that they were alone. It was calming - a serene, soothing sensation as they lay together underneath the heavy snow on that bleak, desolate winter moon.
"Jayne?" she asked, feeling his hand splayed out, firm and warm, at the base of her spine.
"What?"
She put her forehead on his chest. "Happy Valentine's Day."
~~~
Bah! This did not come out at all like I'd hoped - it's basically just the same story. But without clothes this time. Heh. Curses. I think I fail at remix. Epically.