Eeeep - Trying to squeak in at the last minute
Two River fics. A bit late - I hope it's ok to post this anyway! River was surprisingly fun and easy to write. I think that scares me. . . . :-) I hope you enjoy!!!
187 words
Title: Hard to Tell
Rating: G
Spoilers: None
Disclaimer: Not mine. Never gonna be mine. Joss is the deity of the Firefly-verse, not me.
Summary: It's hard to be linear.
A/N: This is all in present-tense because, well, everything is present-tense for River.
Feedback: Greedily consumed.
It's so hard to tell.
Was. Is. Going To Be. It all runs together like fluids on operating room floors in Simon's head, mixing with dirt and debris sliding down the slope of Serenity Valley.
Learn which is which. Outloud, only say Was and Is. Learn the difference between outloud and inside. Going To Be makes Simon's eyes cloud over like the surface of the lake on the Tam Estate when a storm rolls in.
Rolled in. Home is Was now. No. Not home. Osiris. Serenity is home now. Osiris is home then.
Going To Be makes Kaylee afraid and Jayne confused. Going To Be makes Inara think of the prophets of Lord Buddha and the Shepherd think of the prophets of Lord Jesus Christ. Wash's brain says "creepifyin'" over and over. Zoe's brain calmly accepts.
And Mal is quiet and watchful and willing to take any advantage he can get.
Mal.
Bad.
But he's so good. Better than he'll ever think he is.
So she tries not to speak of Going To Be but sometimes when she doesn't, bad things happen.
It's so hard to tell.
1000 words exactly after some serious pruning
Title: Wrestling with Angels
Rating: PG-13, maybe R for 'inappropriate' sexual situations
Spoilers: None
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Summary: For River, everything is Now.
A/N: Eternal thanks to Ktmagik for the beta and the plot bunny and . . . well, too many other things to go into here.
Feedback: Yes, please.
Book sat Bible in hand, keeping watch. River thrashed restlessly in her sleep. "Like Jacob wrestling with the Angel," he thought.
It had been a Bad Day. Simon injected her with a high-dose smoother and Book offered to watch over her for a while so they could all get some sleep. Simon's eyes were bleary and he blinked rapidly as Book shooed him across the hall, assuring him he wasn't sleepy and it wasn't too much trouble.
Book was deep into his reading when he glanced over at the bed, then started to see River had sat up. So slowly and quietly he hadn't seen her move at all. She wasn't looking at him, her eyes were unfocused. "Not gonna find me," she whispered as she slid to her feet. For a moment Book was too startled to move or say anything, then realized that a combination of the drugs and her dreams seemed to be causing her to sleepwalk. He decided it was best to move aside and let her past him rather than wake her and possibly face a violently loud scene. She seemed calmer now than when her eyes were closed.
~~~~~
Move past the Shepherd and his Symbol. Not relevant. She heard his thoughts as she slid her compartment door open . . . wrestling with the angel . . . sleepwalking . . . better to let her go and follow . . . not wake the others.
The numbers loom in her path as she makes her way past the infirmary. Blocking her with their hard curves and solid facts. Slowing her down even more than her heavy legs.
Neozolpidem. 50mg. A high dose reserved for only the most agitated of paranoid schizophrenics. Causes drowsiness, fatigue in limbs, lucid dreams (why, Simon, why this one?), dizziness, lethargy, sensitivity to light, sore throat, dry mouth.
She pushes past numbers she can't fight in this state. She's too heavy, too clouded. Can't hide. Each number is a fact, a figure. The steps from her bunk to the galley. The candles in Inara's shuttle. The number of bullets Vera holds. The people Mal has killed.
No. It's not relevant. Data that gets in the way.
The numbers close in, oversized and pressing around her. She scuttles up the stairs and leaves them below her.
The Shepherd is following her silently up the stairs and down the hall toward the galley. He learned his craft well but she's better. She moves slightly faster and he says inside her head. . .
She'll be fine. She can hardly get into trouble right now with everyone sleeping. Planet time-lag. It's always the one-day stopovers that disrupt a body the most. I'll listen for her from the table.
He is relieved to let her wander. He would never admit it.
River glides down the front hallway towards the bridge, gazing at the curved ceiling, her fingers brushing along the hum of Serenity's cool metal walls.
Then they are playing hide and seek on Osiris. River can see Simon from her space high in the rafters of the attic. She would be clearly visible if he looked up. Simon doesn't think to hide or seek in three dimensions.
The human mind does not instinctively look upwards for danger. Brains evolved on the African savannahs of Earth-That-Was don't fear predators from above. Nothing is big enough to kill. Only hurt. Processing power is better channeled to the predators on the ground. There are plenty.
Simon will never find her.
He never finds her unless she wants him to.
He is looking behind a stack of paintings. River drops silently from the rafters onto a soft pile of paint-spattered cloths. Whenever Simon seems to be coming close to one spot, she has always made sure to leave herself a way out to slip into another dark corner. Would never tell him that though. Just pretend to get caught. She slips softly down the stairs.
She's in the upstairs hallway and its time for another game as she sees him creep along the long patterned carpet. River seems to materialize next to the column she slid behind to watch him search and leaps at Simon's brocade-vested back.
"Caught you!"
A look of surprise flutters across Simon's smooth face in the moment before they tumble to the thickly carpeted floor. His arms grasp at her waist as if she'll be hurt even while he himself is falling flat onto his back, her gangling adolescent form clinging to his shoulders and chest.
Don't worry ge-ge, I've got you. Don't need to stop me falling.
They land with a thump and Simon's laughing groan. He smiles, "Too smart for me mei-mei." His eyes are close. Bottomless. Like oceans on Earth-That-Was. They lay there, gasping with suppressed laughter. A pause to listen for unwanted footsteps that would say "Master Tam! Miss Tam! What on earth . . . your parents. . ."
Simon struggles to get up and she laughs and pushes him back down. "Brat!" he breathes, exasperated. Then everything suddenly shifts inside and he nuzzles his lips into the crook of her neck, skimming along her hairline.
"You smell real pretty," he murmurs sleepily.
His strong hands caress her back, skim down over the curve of her backside. Pulls her closer. She can feel him harden against her thigh . . .
Jayne's eyes snap open, aroused, pupils blown wide. Confused, then angry, then aroused again. Then scared.
He grabbed at her throat reflexively. "Gorrammit little girl, what the name of suoyou de dou shidang are you doin'? D'you know what Mal'd do t'me if. . ."
With a quick, precise shift of River's weight, they tumble from the narrow bunk onto the floor.
"Now," River gasps breathlessly in realization, the drug-fog parting sharply and revealing Jayne's terrified face.
Now.
It's now. Not then. Here. Jayne's Bunk. Not home. Not Simon.
"I have to go now."
Jayne is still dazed on the floor as she scrambles up the ladder.
187 words
Title: Hard to Tell
Rating: G
Spoilers: None
Disclaimer: Not mine. Never gonna be mine. Joss is the deity of the Firefly-verse, not me.
Summary: It's hard to be linear.
A/N: This is all in present-tense because, well, everything is present-tense for River.
Feedback: Greedily consumed.
It's so hard to tell.
Was. Is. Going To Be. It all runs together like fluids on operating room floors in Simon's head, mixing with dirt and debris sliding down the slope of Serenity Valley.
Learn which is which. Outloud, only say Was and Is. Learn the difference between outloud and inside. Going To Be makes Simon's eyes cloud over like the surface of the lake on the Tam Estate when a storm rolls in.
Rolled in. Home is Was now. No. Not home. Osiris. Serenity is home now. Osiris is home then.
Going To Be makes Kaylee afraid and Jayne confused. Going To Be makes Inara think of the prophets of Lord Buddha and the Shepherd think of the prophets of Lord Jesus Christ. Wash's brain says "creepifyin'" over and over. Zoe's brain calmly accepts.
And Mal is quiet and watchful and willing to take any advantage he can get.
Mal.
Bad.
But he's so good. Better than he'll ever think he is.
So she tries not to speak of Going To Be but sometimes when she doesn't, bad things happen.
It's so hard to tell.
1000 words exactly after some serious pruning
Title: Wrestling with Angels
Rating: PG-13, maybe R for 'inappropriate' sexual situations
Spoilers: None
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Summary: For River, everything is Now.
A/N: Eternal thanks to Ktmagik for the beta and the plot bunny and . . . well, too many other things to go into here.
Feedback: Yes, please.
Book sat Bible in hand, keeping watch. River thrashed restlessly in her sleep. "Like Jacob wrestling with the Angel," he thought.
It had been a Bad Day. Simon injected her with a high-dose smoother and Book offered to watch over her for a while so they could all get some sleep. Simon's eyes were bleary and he blinked rapidly as Book shooed him across the hall, assuring him he wasn't sleepy and it wasn't too much trouble.
Book was deep into his reading when he glanced over at the bed, then started to see River had sat up. So slowly and quietly he hadn't seen her move at all. She wasn't looking at him, her eyes were unfocused. "Not gonna find me," she whispered as she slid to her feet. For a moment Book was too startled to move or say anything, then realized that a combination of the drugs and her dreams seemed to be causing her to sleepwalk. He decided it was best to move aside and let her past him rather than wake her and possibly face a violently loud scene. She seemed calmer now than when her eyes were closed.
~~~~~
Move past the Shepherd and his Symbol. Not relevant. She heard his thoughts as she slid her compartment door open . . . wrestling with the angel . . . sleepwalking . . . better to let her go and follow . . . not wake the others.
The numbers loom in her path as she makes her way past the infirmary. Blocking her with their hard curves and solid facts. Slowing her down even more than her heavy legs.
Neozolpidem. 50mg. A high dose reserved for only the most agitated of paranoid schizophrenics. Causes drowsiness, fatigue in limbs, lucid dreams (why, Simon, why this one?), dizziness, lethargy, sensitivity to light, sore throat, dry mouth.
She pushes past numbers she can't fight in this state. She's too heavy, too clouded. Can't hide. Each number is a fact, a figure. The steps from her bunk to the galley. The candles in Inara's shuttle. The number of bullets Vera holds. The people Mal has killed.
No. It's not relevant. Data that gets in the way.
The numbers close in, oversized and pressing around her. She scuttles up the stairs and leaves them below her.
The Shepherd is following her silently up the stairs and down the hall toward the galley. He learned his craft well but she's better. She moves slightly faster and he says inside her head. . .
She'll be fine. She can hardly get into trouble right now with everyone sleeping. Planet time-lag. It's always the one-day stopovers that disrupt a body the most. I'll listen for her from the table.
He is relieved to let her wander. He would never admit it.
River glides down the front hallway towards the bridge, gazing at the curved ceiling, her fingers brushing along the hum of Serenity's cool metal walls.
Then they are playing hide and seek on Osiris. River can see Simon from her space high in the rafters of the attic. She would be clearly visible if he looked up. Simon doesn't think to hide or seek in three dimensions.
The human mind does not instinctively look upwards for danger. Brains evolved on the African savannahs of Earth-That-Was don't fear predators from above. Nothing is big enough to kill. Only hurt. Processing power is better channeled to the predators on the ground. There are plenty.
Simon will never find her.
He never finds her unless she wants him to.
He is looking behind a stack of paintings. River drops silently from the rafters onto a soft pile of paint-spattered cloths. Whenever Simon seems to be coming close to one spot, she has always made sure to leave herself a way out to slip into another dark corner. Would never tell him that though. Just pretend to get caught. She slips softly down the stairs.
She's in the upstairs hallway and its time for another game as she sees him creep along the long patterned carpet. River seems to materialize next to the column she slid behind to watch him search and leaps at Simon's brocade-vested back.
"Caught you!"
A look of surprise flutters across Simon's smooth face in the moment before they tumble to the thickly carpeted floor. His arms grasp at her waist as if she'll be hurt even while he himself is falling flat onto his back, her gangling adolescent form clinging to his shoulders and chest.
Don't worry ge-ge, I've got you. Don't need to stop me falling.
They land with a thump and Simon's laughing groan. He smiles, "Too smart for me mei-mei." His eyes are close. Bottomless. Like oceans on Earth-That-Was. They lay there, gasping with suppressed laughter. A pause to listen for unwanted footsteps that would say "Master Tam! Miss Tam! What on earth . . . your parents. . ."
Simon struggles to get up and she laughs and pushes him back down. "Brat!" he breathes, exasperated. Then everything suddenly shifts inside and he nuzzles his lips into the crook of her neck, skimming along her hairline.
"You smell real pretty," he murmurs sleepily.
His strong hands caress her back, skim down over the curve of her backside. Pulls her closer. She can feel him harden against her thigh . . .
Jayne's eyes snap open, aroused, pupils blown wide. Confused, then angry, then aroused again. Then scared.
He grabbed at her throat reflexively. "Gorrammit little girl, what the name of suoyou de dou shidang are you doin'? D'you know what Mal'd do t'me if. . ."
With a quick, precise shift of River's weight, they tumble from the narrow bunk onto the floor.
"Now," River gasps breathlessly in realization, the drug-fog parting sharply and revealing Jayne's terrified face.
Now.
It's now. Not then. Here. Jayne's Bunk. Not home. Not Simon.
"I have to go now."
Jayne is still dazed on the floor as she scrambles up the ladder.