Fic: "Miracle" - Rivercentric - General Audiences
Title: "Miracle"
Author: Willa willshenillshe
Summary: Firefly - Rivercentric piece focusing on the tumbled thoughts that might have been crashing through her mind as she was transported onto Serenity.
Written For: Weekly Challenge at ff_friday
625 words
Note: I think I like writing River as much as I like writing Drusilla. *eg*
Ashes to ashes,
and dust to dust,
they say I’m dead,
so bury they must…
No, that’s not right.
River used to know all the fairy tales and nursery rhymes from Earth-that-was, not just American or Chinese legends. She downloaded file after file off Simon’s dedicated source box - he never did know how to keep her out of his things - and read until her eyes were red and her lids grown heavy.
River liked stories.
Sing a song of sixpence,
a pocket full of rye,
watch the cradle tumble,
and we all fall down…
No. Wrong. It was still wrong.
She wanted to pound her fists against her thighs in frustration. They took everything away from her. Her freedom, her family, her mind, her genius - they snatched up every bit and ate it all up, dropping careless crumbs here and there for lost boys to follow through the woods… she hoped.
Did her code make any sense? The protocol was unstabilized and the dynamics without parameter. Simon might not get the in-jokes that were really out-cries and just think she was being silly. Teasing him.
He always called her ‘brat’, but then he turned around and called her ‘mei-mei’, so she'd know everything was okay.
She needed him. Needed Simple Simon, to say to the Pie Man, down on Drury Lane…
Get me out. They’re hurting us.
There’s been a long time gone now where things have all been black. She has decided she’s undergoing a new test, where they’re seeing how long she can live underwater. Maybe they’ve taken their scalpels and given her gills. She’s wet and cold and she’s floating. Inaccurate parameters. It feels tight in where she is.
Maybe they’ve put her into a womb, to grow her into another person altogether. They cut her apart, stitched her back together, and now she needs to mature inside a sheltered environment where conditions can be monitored, beep-beep-beep, before they let her be born again.
That scared her. If she’d been hidden away in the belly of the beast, how would Simon ever find her?
Hush, little baby, don’t say a word,
Brother’s gonna buy you a mockingbird,
And if that nightingale won’t sing,
He’ll give you glass slippers and help you take wing…
River puzzled over her thoughts until they broke and slid sideways. Too cold for the brain to function beyond vestigial mode. Her consciousness remained active only just enough to keep her biological systems viable.
She was cold, and she slept, waiting to be born.
Then, she heard, out on the lawn, that there arose such a clatter. She heard voices of men rush in to see what was the matter. Over to the window they flew with a flash, tore open the shutters and tossed up the sash.
And God said let there be light. And this is the first day. And it is good.
But it hurts to be born. The cold, wet darkness of her synthetic womb has been shattered, and River has hurtled screaming back into life. Taking in little details: a man in suspenders, Simon being held away from her, the inside of a dirty, dirty Firefly class spaceship. Her own nakedness.
It’s scary, being born. You don’t know what you are yet.
So River screamed and ran and hid. Even when Simon reached her, held her tight and called her ‘mei-mei’ once again, and voice after voice after voice told her she was free, she decided it would be better to keep hiding. Keep her secrets locked inside a box of rocks with a pair of socks.
Lost in her own thoughts, swirling like muddy water in a painted pool, River giggled with the sound of a newborn baby.
It was a kind of miracle, coming back to life.
Author: Willa willshenillshe
Summary: Firefly - Rivercentric piece focusing on the tumbled thoughts that might have been crashing through her mind as she was transported onto Serenity.
Written For: Weekly Challenge at ff_friday
625 words
Note: I think I like writing River as much as I like writing Drusilla. *eg*
Ashes to ashes,
and dust to dust,
they say I’m dead,
so bury they must…
No, that’s not right.
River used to know all the fairy tales and nursery rhymes from Earth-that-was, not just American or Chinese legends. She downloaded file after file off Simon’s dedicated source box - he never did know how to keep her out of his things - and read until her eyes were red and her lids grown heavy.
River liked stories.
Sing a song of sixpence,
a pocket full of rye,
watch the cradle tumble,
and we all fall down…
No. Wrong. It was still wrong.
She wanted to pound her fists against her thighs in frustration. They took everything away from her. Her freedom, her family, her mind, her genius - they snatched up every bit and ate it all up, dropping careless crumbs here and there for lost boys to follow through the woods… she hoped.
Did her code make any sense? The protocol was unstabilized and the dynamics without parameter. Simon might not get the in-jokes that were really out-cries and just think she was being silly. Teasing him.
He always called her ‘brat’, but then he turned around and called her ‘mei-mei’, so she'd know everything was okay.
She needed him. Needed Simple Simon, to say to the Pie Man, down on Drury Lane…
Get me out. They’re hurting us.
There’s been a long time gone now where things have all been black. She has decided she’s undergoing a new test, where they’re seeing how long she can live underwater. Maybe they’ve taken their scalpels and given her gills. She’s wet and cold and she’s floating. Inaccurate parameters. It feels tight in where she is.
Maybe they’ve put her into a womb, to grow her into another person altogether. They cut her apart, stitched her back together, and now she needs to mature inside a sheltered environment where conditions can be monitored, beep-beep-beep, before they let her be born again.
That scared her. If she’d been hidden away in the belly of the beast, how would Simon ever find her?
Hush, little baby, don’t say a word,
Brother’s gonna buy you a mockingbird,
And if that nightingale won’t sing,
He’ll give you glass slippers and help you take wing…
River puzzled over her thoughts until they broke and slid sideways. Too cold for the brain to function beyond vestigial mode. Her consciousness remained active only just enough to keep her biological systems viable.
She was cold, and she slept, waiting to be born.
Then, she heard, out on the lawn, that there arose such a clatter. She heard voices of men rush in to see what was the matter. Over to the window they flew with a flash, tore open the shutters and tossed up the sash.
And God said let there be light. And this is the first day. And it is good.
But it hurts to be born. The cold, wet darkness of her synthetic womb has been shattered, and River has hurtled screaming back into life. Taking in little details: a man in suspenders, Simon being held away from her, the inside of a dirty, dirty Firefly class spaceship. Her own nakedness.
It’s scary, being born. You don’t know what you are yet.
So River screamed and ran and hid. Even when Simon reached her, held her tight and called her ‘mei-mei’ once again, and voice after voice after voice told her she was free, she decided it would be better to keep hiding. Keep her secrets locked inside a box of rocks with a pair of socks.
Lost in her own thoughts, swirling like muddy water in a painted pool, River giggled with the sound of a newborn baby.
It was a kind of miracle, coming back to life.