FIC: "Unlikely" (Fred/River, PG-13)
TITLE: Unlikely
RATING: PG-13
FANDOMS: AtS/Firefly
PAIRING: Fred/River
SPOILERS: Pre-BDM.
SUMMARY: The laws of physics do not support impossibilities.
PROMPT: For globalfruitbat for femslash_minis’s Fred Round. Requested were bubbles, a rainy day, and a window seat.
AUTHOR'S NOTES: globalfruitbat, I sure hope you like this.
It is late afternoon. Serenity has docked in Gansu, and there is rain. It is monsoon season; there has been rain for the past two months. The sky is dark and the entire city smells like ozone. To the touch, the metal hull of the ship is thrumming with the spare electricity in the air. Serenity purrs.
Book’s hair may never be the same.
Most of the crew is planetside attempting a job that will probably kill them all. River is in the lush, warm den of Inara’s shuttle, perched in the window seat watching the rain.
And trying to understand how it happened.
“Change in t-prime is equal to gamma times delta-t is equal to delta-t over the square root of one minus v-squared over c-squared, where v is relative velocity between the observer and the dilation, and c-”
“-c is the speed of light,” Fred says. “C is always the speed of light.”
Fred is not looking out the window, watching the rain. She’s seen rain. She is looking at River, and her thin fingers twine through the girl’s hair.
“And gamma is the Lorentz factor,” River concludes, although her tone has deflated somewhat; her attention is drifting. “But gamma isn’t always the Lorentz factor.”
“That’s okay,” Fred says, and her fingers fall to the soft folds of River’s skirt. “It’s okay to be more than one thing.”
“To change,” River says. Raindrops on the other side of the window reflect upon her face. Fred imagines the reflections as tangible on this side of the glass: freckles, or bubbles.
“Delta,” she adds.
“Delta,” Fred says, and her small hands are on River’s knees.
“Theoretically possible to travel forward in time because of time dilation,” River says, tracing equations on the foggy window with her finger. “But impossible to travel back.”
“I’m still working on the math for that one,” Fred admits. Her hands are beneath River’s skirt, traveling up the girl’s thighs. River parts her legs slightly to assist Fred.
“Of course, the Fermi paradox is invalid,” River says. “You invalidate the paradox.”
“I do that all the time.”
Abruptly, River turns from the window to focus exclusively on Fred.
“You’re unlikely,” she accuses.
“That’s me,” Fred says. Her hands are resting just below River’s hips, and the girl’s skirt covers her forearms. To the outside observer, she could be a midwife. “Unlikely.”
River studies her face for a long moment before replying. Finally: “Kiss me.”
Fred does, on the lips, softly. Afterwards, she doesn’t pull back, just stays there, inches from River. In the shadow of the window, and the rain, they are both cast blue, as if this is an underwater scene.
“I think that I could do it,” River says. Her lips tickle Fred’s.
“Do what?”
River’s hands settle on the obtuse angle of Fred’s collarbone. Her hands are cold and slightly, not unpleasantly, damp from marking on the window.
“Travel forward in time,” River says. “Like you did.”
Fred kisses her again. “Maybe later, okay?”
“Later,” River agrees. “Now you should show me the things Inara’s been teaching you.”
Fred smiles a little, shyly, and kisses River again. “She’s a good teacher, but it’s a lot to take in. Kind of overwhelming, and a little terrifying. But in a good way. Terrifying in a good way.”
“You’re a quick learner,” River says. She closes her eyes as Fred’s hands travel up her thighs.
“Yes . . .”
And River lets herself fall against the misty window. The glass is cold and slightly damp against her skin, a wonderful contrast to how very warm Fred is.
“Me, too,” she says, relaxing. "I am, too."