FIC: Diamonds in the Sky (Firefly, Inara/River, PG)
TITLE:Diamonds in the Sky
RATING:PG
FANDOMS: Firefly
PAIRING:Inara/River
SUMMARY:On melting points, and what stars are made of.
AUTHOR’S NOTES:Written for the femslash_minis zodiac round for brutti_ma_buoni who requested the pairing with “under different stars”, pictures with meaning, and melting, without Simon or character death. Title from Rihanna’s song of the same name.
They have her shackled to the table, which River tries not to mind. One escape attempt-three-and people get twitchy. River is in her hospital gown with her hair down and her wrists chained to the round, metal ring in the center of the table. There is a guard at the door, but he is armed with a syringe, not a gun.
She is valuable property.
The man on the other side of the table, the man in the white coat, picks up a new card from the stack in front of him. He holds it up, blank side to her.
“Circle,” she says.
The man turns the card around briefly, shows her the circle on the other side. He places that card face down on the table, picks up another from the stack.
“Star.”
***
At the same time, under different stars, Inara stands on a balcony of the companion’s academy, pulling the silk of her shawl around her bare shoulders, looking up at the constellations sprinkling the indigo sky. She hears Nandi’s bare feet on the stone tiles, but doesn’t turn to her even when Nandi places her hands on Inara’s shoulders.
“You should be sleeping,” Nandi says.
“I wake up when the moon rises,” Inara says.
Nandi smiles. “You’re in the right line of work.”
Inara doesn’t smile. She wonders how cold it is up in space. She could step off the balcony and climb into the sky, using the stars as stairs and handholds. She would drop her shawl and ice would form like armor over her skin, until she was as crystalline and perfect as a star herself.
***
On Serenity, Inara makes nian gao, places a warm sticky bun in River’s hand. River bites into it, its flesh supple, sweet.
“Good, mei mei?” she asks, and River nods enthusiastically with her cheeks full. Inara laughs, gently wipes away a smear of sugar from the corner of River’s mouth.
River swallows, and regards Inara, her face suddenly serious.
“Sugar does not have a fixed melting point,” she says. “As sugar is heated, its molecules decompose.”
Inara nods. “Okay,” she says.
River chews her bun. “There are other things like that,” she says.
Inara nods, lowers her eyes. Her cheeks flush.
“Sometimes,” River says, “as heat is applied, sugar becomes brittle and cracks. It cannot be held together.”
Inara holds her breath.
“But then,” River continues, “other times, sugar sets, hardens. If you bite through a toffee, it will break your teeth.”
Inara looks up. She suspects River is the latter, and she is the former.
River plucks the images out of Inara’s head. She sees Inara on the balcony of the companion’s academy, wishing to step into the sky and be made of stars. But stars are not diamonds, as Inara saw them. Stars are burning orbs of plasma held together by their own gravity.
Inara will never be a diamond. But she is already a star-burning brilliantly, held together by her own will.
River has never seen anything more beautiful.
River swallows the last of her sweet, sticky nian gao. She leans in, places her head on Inara’s shoulder. Inara exhales, relaxing, and folds her arms around River.