Fic: Someday, Maybe
Title: Someday, Maybe
Authors: jazzfic, fireworkfiasco and ninamazing
Rating: R
Pairing: Mal/River
Words: 10,158
Disclaimer: Joss is Boss. But we love him anyway.
Summary: Of hardened space captains, reader-girls, and an understanding that falls a little left of centre.
Notes: This started life as a series of drabbles to while away an otherwise dull afternoon, but it soon took on a life of its own. There's a semblance of a plot somewhere in there, if you squint.
"Haven't ever bought protein before," she wheedled, eyebrows raised. "And never bought foodstuffs before, either. I need assistance. You are the assistance."
Mal frowned at her over the mule they were loading. "Darlin', I've a load of supplies to drop at Badger's doorstep. Ain't like I'll be having time to mosey about the marketplace, too."
"Don't make me bring Jayne," she threatened, eyebrows drawn together in a frown. "He'll make sordid comments and raise the rates. You, Captain, can charm them down."
"I don't think I'm the one to be doing any charming, neither. Now, did Zoe give you the credits?"
"Left pocket, front. Easy to keep track of." She paused for a long moment, her hands slowing on the restraints she was checking. "Captain, please?"
The look in her eyes was hopeful and tragic, all in one long gaze that made Mal's stomach drop out. He huffed a bit, but finally agreed. "Let's see if we can't get Zoe to keep an eye on Jayne to deliver this. 'Sides, I think Badger'd appreciate her manners a bit more than he would mine."
Two odd looks from Jayne and Zoe later and Mal was walking alongside River as they crossed the courtyard square to Market. River had a shy look of pleasure on her face - and Mal couldn't help but feel a hot swoop in his stomach knowing he'd put it there.
They wandered between the stalls, browsing. Mal was loathe to admit that he was enjoying the time spent in his pilot's company. She wasn't pressing him for anything other that his presence at her elbow, and he let himself be led around.
Only thrice did she look to him for advice on anything. Other than that, she was able to haggle down prices and flirt them even lower. Seeing her in action was something a little off-putting - he was used to her fighting to get things changed, not drawling her words like little Kaylee and smiling like exotic Inara and making cracks like warrior Zoe.
-.-.-.-.-.-
"Is that all?"
River eyeballed him innocently. Not that he could actually see her, what with two sacks of potatoes obscuring his line of sight, but he'd come to know her expressions to the point of almost being able to feel them.
"No," she said. "We have to get strawberries. For Kaylee."
And before he could speak she was off, twisting deftly through the crowd in search of the fruit-seller. Mal groaned under the weight he was carrying--Like I'm some gorramn pack mule--and followed her, trying his hardest to stay upright and balanced. It wasn't easy, but then, neither was she.
"Strawberries," he muttered darkly, to himself. He arrived at River's side, and glared at her over the potatoes.
"You got credits enough for those, little one?"
She looked up. "Don't need any." And she smiled, as if sweetness alone could stand in balance for coin.
Mal swore under his breath. He was going to need two hands for this. He knelt carefully and set everything down, then stood up, matching her innocent smile. "An' how, pray tell, is that? I don't see this good fella givin' his hard earned just 'cause you deemed it so."
She almost--almost--rolled her eyes. But he had a feeling she was above it all, as if she always knew better. That she knew how this little argument was going to play out, and was teasing him simply for the feeling it gave them both.
"No," River said. "You're going to pay. Because you're captain of a great ship, and that great ship runs by Kaylee's love as well as yours. And she's deserving. And--" She leaned up, kissed him on the cheek, "--because I told you to."
With that she disappeared into the crowd. Mal stared blankly after her. Words of displeasure made their way onto his lips, but all he could manage was, "Huh."
So, then: one box of strawberries. When he made to pay the storeowner simply laughed, waved a hand and let him go.
-.-.-.-.-.-
Mal was certain that Kaylee's face would make up for the hassle of trying to juggle two bags of potatoes, a box of strawberries and what he was hoping was protein.
He was all sorts of wrong.
Kaylee had leapt at him to the moment he came through the door and extracted the box from his pile, glowing like some hun dun had went and set her on fire. She'd gushed her thanks and was off, in the general direction of the kitchen.
But it was River's soft smile as she relieved him of some of the burden that let him know that he'd done the right thing.
"How much?" she whispered, the potatoes cradled in her arms. He couldn't help put notice that she had them balanced like they didn't weigh naught. Made him a mite proud, it did, of his pilot.
"Vendor took a shining to you, I'm thinking, cause he let me have them for free."
River's eyes widened and she took a step closer to him. "Captain, the man has four daughters at home!"
"Which is why I left him a generous tip."
Her smile grew. "You may think you're a mean old man, but your heart says different."
He didn't know if he liked the thought of her listening too closely to his heart - he took good care to keep it tucked down under spitfire and sarcasm, knowing that his crew were only people and that he was only one man. Had to have some way to get between them and whatever was coming, and distancing himself was the only way he knew how.
"Kaylee hasn't been so happy in I don't know how long."
"Happy is a feeling brought about by contentment. Some just need certain stimuli." She was eyeing him again, only this time her look was like nothing he'd seen before. There was a hint of ferocity, and that same shyness, and something he didn't quite recognize.
She looked down, suddenly, her shyness overcoming. Mal felt himself take a step towards her, shifting the bundle in his arms so that he could reach out a hand and catch her chin.
"River - " he started, unsure how to continue now that his skin was on her skin and everything was shifted. He felt himself get hot and bothered in turn, back tightening.
She smirked a bit under his hand, her smile turning up her cheeks. His fingers, all of their own accord, traced the line of her jaw up to the cup of her ear, tucking back her curtain of hair.
"Captain," she started, a hand coming up to take his. She pulled his hand down, letting the knot of their fingers dangle between them a moment. "There's much that needs to be said - "
"If that ain't potatoes, I ain't Jayne Cobb!" The mercenary shoved in between them, taking the packages from Mal's arms. River was jostled back a step and their eye contact broke, leaving Mal to watch her stumble after Jayne, head down.
-.-.-.-.-.-
Kaylee baked up a half-dozen of the potatoes to go with their protein at meal time--she had begged Mal to let her use more, on occasion they'd not had such fresh food at hand in months--but Mal was adamant. "You can have those an' no more," he'd said, ignoring the hopeful spark in her eyes. "Ain't no special occasion, 'sides, be foolish to eat up all our stock day it comes in." And he'd felt fine about it as he'd spoken, knowing full well his mechanic would come up with some creative way to pay him back for being so petulant. It was just how they operated, and it suited the both of them just fine.
Except it wasn't fine, and it wasn't Kaylee who sat atop his thoughts as they ate that evening. This was a feeling more worrying, and not because he disliked its being there. No, what disturbed him was that it had come almost without argument on either side; that it had brought about none of Inara's fogginess. If anything, this feeling was clearer than any he'd known before.
And more importantly, he was beginning to like it.
River ate her meal in silence, but Mal watched her, and knew just as well when his own head was down, so in turn did the girl let her eyes settle on him. And yet somehow they both managed to join in the general conversation, as if nothing out of the ordinary was going on.
"...And so I busted my cartridge whackin' the sorry sumbitch on the a--"
"Jayne!"
"Well it worked, didn't it?"
"You tell us, it's your story. You're the hero."
"Damn right I was..."
Well, general conversation being Jayne's oft-told tales from the days when he actually was a petty criminal to be feared and admired. Mal smirked around a mouthful of food, looked back at River to find her eyes this time directly on him, the near-shyness of their furtive glances having been whisked away and replaced with something infinitely clearer.
Mal had thought distancing himself was the only way to guarantee protection. But to step too far back was bordering on mistrust, even cowardice. Of those, Mal was schooled to neither, and he had no doubt whatsoever that River knew that. He smiled a little, looked down at his now empty plate. Of course she knew. This was a girl who saw all and missed nothing. Including mean old captains, whose hearts probably did speak different.
"Good, Cap'n?"
He broadened the smile; let it sit unabashed on Kaylee's happy face. "Good," Mal agreed.
"Even if you were all miserly with the rations."
"Hey," he said, holding both hands up in mock defence. "You'll be thankin' me later down the track, you mark my words."
"Well, my stomach sure as hell ain't," Jayne grumbled, and the others laughed. But a voice was absent from the merriment, and when Mal looked back across the table, River had slipped away.
-.-.-.-.-.-
He found her later that night.
But that wasn't right because she found him, sneaking up on silent toes that embraced Serenity as she moved.
"Captain," she breathed, a whisper of air snaking across his neck. He didn't let himself jump; he'd been waiting for her to come to him when she was good and ready.
All he did was pat the hard metal of the catwalk beside him, keeping his eyes locked somewhere out in the black that was his cargo bay.
She sat slowly and surely, as if she'd prepared herself for battle.
For a good piece of time, neither of them spoke. He could hear her measured breathing, the gentle swish of her skirts as she kicked her legs, the creak and groan of Serenity around them. He tried to keep his mind on those things and nothing else (nothing being the warmth he felt off her thigh, so close to his own; nothing being the smell of her, rich and female and not-his-not-yet).
Battling those thoughts had been harder and harder since...since she'd gotten on his ship to begin with. They hadn't been anything like they were now - no, they'd been dark and protective and will she ever be all right again? Things - and thoughts - had changed with time and experience; now they were heavy and possessive and was this, any of this, real?
He pushed his thoughts towards dinner and strawberries and laughter on the bridge when they thought no one was listening and tried to make himself relax. The tension in his back had coiled during dinner, when he'd been unable to keep his eyes to his own self.
All his hard work at thinking things safe was shot to pieces when River's hand found his in the darkness, folding over it and twining it with her own. Her fingers traced over the calluses in his palm, down and up and around and closer and closer to driving him insane.
But he didn't pull away.
He didn't know why, but he couldn't bring himself to tug his hand away from her. Her fingers tickled something fierce as they danced around his palm, but he wanted them there.
"What's to be done?" he said suddenly, shattering the silence.
She sighed, fingers stilling on their path. "Words are useless because they have meanings, definitions. Why can't actions be used in place? A smile is contentment, a frown sadness. Simplicity for those not grounded."
He thought about that for a moment, trying to put words to them. “There’s too many definitions, maybe. A smile means too many things, not unless you’re knowing what to look for.” There was silence from her and he turned, listening.
He forgot how his ears worked when her lips found his - gentle and soft and too sure of themselves. They knew how to play along his bottom lip and nip just there and make him feel all sorts of sure that she'd been flitting about in minds that were well versed in kissing.
Even that train of thought flew out of his head as her hands found his hair and his hands found her waist and things snapped into place, clicking like a cartridge into a gun.
She was the one to pull away, using sense he wished he had in spades. She didn't release him though; she held him cradled in her hands, fingers smoothing along his ears and down his jaw, then up to press his lips just so.
"Actions speak louder than words. I'm sick of words. 'I can't. I won't. I shouldn't.' Enough! I can, I will, I should." She let her outburst fade back into the darkness before speaking again. "Are my actions loud enough? Your mind is, the truth is, the 'verse is - now am I? Have I made things clear?"
-.-.-.-.-.-
He tried not to say it. It felt like a betrayal, to something he'd been holding onto for too long, feelings hard and full in the cavernous space where he'd left his heart a long, long time ago; Inara, girls in boxes, Shadow and Serenity Valley, all of it a fight with the god-honest truth he couldn't chase away. He tried not to, but knew if he said nothing there was every chance that the whole mess would break. We go this far, he thought, we'll pass the point of repair so fast we'll never get it back.
So he nodded, and leant gently into the small body. "Yes."
He could feel her lips move against his. He thought he saw flashes of light, and wondered if they were his doubts flying into the dark, and he caught her again, tasted salt and heat on her tongue, the dry scent of guilt sinking lower, and farther, and deeper into that empty space. And then there was a crashing of noise in his ears, and the light again, but it wasn't his doubts, and it wasn't his heart--
"Lashî--" Mal snapped, letting River go, just as Zoe's voice jumped above the klaxon blast.
"Sir! Alliance, hot on our tail. Need you up here, now!"
He stood, shaking a little. "Gorramn it, they hidin' in the black now? Thought we had clear space to run..."
There seemed to be two thoughts pulling at him; one making him blink rapidly and focus on Zoe's words, the flashing alarms, the other still leaning against River on the hard grate of the catwalk, hands and fingers clasped and touching, again and again. But it only lasted a second, his awareness of danger always too close to the surface for Mal to act any other way, and the first urge won out.
He made to move, when her hand caught his, pulled him back.
"Their actions are loud, too. But they aren't like me."
"Darlin', I know," he said, simply.
They ran for the bridge, River flying behind him on bare feet, small hand light and almost energised in his own. Zoe was in the pilot's seat, but slipped out immediately when they entered. She shot Mal a look--possibly knowing, but he ducked his head, lunged for his own seat, busying himself with the navigational controls. This was Zoe, he thought. Probably, rather than just possibly.
"Where in the gorramn hell'd you come from?" he muttered, staring at the grid, where a lone red dot--the Alliance boat--trailed the green dot of Serenity across the pattern of decreasing circles.
"Reckon someone trailed one of us from the Market," Zoe said. "Either that, or Badger's gone dirty on us, sir."
"After that job?" Mal shook his head. "Jayne told me he'd never in his life seen our little friend happier with a payout before. No, it ain't Badger." He looked at the grid again, then across to River. "Think you can get us outta here, albatross?"
"Dang ran," she said, almost a whisper. She shot him a look, and he saw a shine on her lips, swollen a little where they had touched his. "Hold on."
-.-.-.-.-.-
There were things he wanted to say to her before everything went to hell, but he bit his tongue to keep the words in. It wasn't the time, not here, not now, not when it would sound like he'd given up, that he'd lost faith in his pilot - worse, it being the faith he'd just learned to keep.
He couldn't help but watch her as she flew, hands steady as she pressed Serenity to her limits, making her jolt and jump around them as she awoke with fire and speed. River was working her lip between her teeth, testing the swollen flesh, which made Mal do the same, pleased by the traces of her he found lingering.
Zoe was a shadow in the back of the bridge, face hard. "Weren't no warning, sir," she said smoothly, voice betraying her only to Mal who knew how to listen. "Didn't even make contact; came outta nowhere. I tried to make radio contact, but..."
Mal swore and checked the grid again, more than proud when he found that the distance between the two ships was slowly gaining width. There was a tweak in his chest that made him grin down at the flashing blips that was him and her before he pressed his face into a mask, looking up at River and then back at Zoe.
"Looks like we're gaining sky," he said, trying to shatter the tension smothering them down like quilts.
River clucked her tongue at him. "Not who you think they are. Playing dress-up, playing hide and go seek, wearing things that don't belong."
"Who are they?" Zoe asked, stepping forward to brace a hand on Mal's chair. He patted it gently, offering all the support he could muster, not taking his eyes from River's face, now as hard as Zoe's had been.
"Searched them out - looking for the leader. Only madness to be found, placed, sorted." She paused, hand making a stray adjustment before settling back into place, urging Serenity on.
"Reavers."
Zoe swore and reached for the comm, urging Jayne and Kaylee out of bed. Mal kept his attention on River, torn between believing her and questioning her. Her eyes snapped to his, looking clear and warm, fierce and pained.
"Captain," she muttered under Zoe's shouted commands. "Have faith."
His answer was made for him as Zoe reached past him and switched on the radio, letting the rancid shriek of Reaver madness tear into the ship. River's eyes screwed shut, tears welling and spilling down her cheeks.
With Zoe struggling to switch the radio back off, he couldn't go to her side to assure her that he was still there, still at her side. Instead, he steadied his first-mate as she finally silenced the screeching.
"You okay?" he asked, trying to fill his voice with enough to concern to assure her but enough to keep Zoe from figuring things out too far.
She gave a nod but didn't look at him, focus locked entirely on the controls under her hands. Kaylee finally answered Zoe's call on the comm and she played Serenity's heart like a fiddle, making the purr turn into a throb, making the ship leap into the Black all the faster.
It was shortly after they ducked a moon that River made a small sound of contentment, fingers loosening from their reign of their boat. "Turning back, now. Don't like the crowds."
Mal checked the grid, following the retreating dot with happy eyes and checking the progression of another dot meandering past them. It was big enough that Mal knew it would deal damage to anything worth fighting.
"You okay?" he asked again, turning. The bridge was empty and Mal silently thanked Zoe while also cursing her, now unsure what to do, to say to the girl sitting across from him, to the girl he'd been kissing one fright ago.
"Someday, maybe," she answered, standing. She hovered about her chair like she was itching to leave, like she was wanting to stay.
He felt himself stand, take a long, slow step towards her, hands fisted at his sides. The tension in his back was all over now, so worried about being killed, about her being killed, about any more loss or death on his ship that he'd forgotten, for a moment, how to breathe.
"River," he started, but stopped as she threw herself towards him, folding herself into his arms, lips kissing his, hands in his hair. She felt more real this time, the light in his eyes, the Black at his back, her taste bittered with worry and fear.
But she was still warm and he was still hungering for her and there was still that certain click of things falling into place as her tongue slid against his, as her hands heated his blood, as his hands claimed her curves.
"Captain," she hissed into his ear. "Falling through the Black seems scary but it's not half as scary as falling--" She stopped, a hand trailing over his cheek and down his neck, around his shoulder to press against his heart. "I feel it, in here. I hear it, in here. I know it, in here. You do, too."
Words failed him for a moment and he gathered her closer, pressing his nose into her hair, taking in her scent - female and rich and might-be-his-might-be-soon.
She twisted in his arms and he released her, eyes taking in her widened eyes and worried lips, still tender, still swollen.
"Peek a boo," she muttered and turned her eyes to the door, where Simon was standing, hands planted on the door frame, jaw working for something to say.
"Hello."
-.-.-.-.-.-
There are times when the opportunity to go back, to change one little thing, one little action or word, would be welcome indeed.
This was one of them. And Mal was right there, in that moment, wishing to all hell he weren't.
Feeling a million pairs of eyes on him--though this was worse, it was one pair and they were his--he cleared his throat, perhaps unnecessarily but he suddenly had a desperate urge to do something that meant, if only for a few seconds, that he didn't have to look directly at Simon. Though he and River weren't exactly touching anymore, her hands were still hovering about his middle; in fact one he hadn't noticed earlier had actually sneaked into his belt, and there was a moment of excruciating awkwardness that seemed to last whole minutes, as he gently extracted her fingers and stepped aside.
"Captain, do you need her?"
For a second Mal could only stare. "I'm sorry?"
For his part, Simon appeared to be having an equally hard time looking at either Mal or his sister, and he shuffled his weight from foot to foot, one hand on the bulkhead beside the hatchway, half of his face darkened from embarrassment, the other pale from lips pressed tightly together. He eyed River, who without hesitation was gazing pointedly back, the look on her face one of frank openness and, Mal noted, innocence that still managed to be sharply perceptive. He could see how Simon might find it frustrating--this fusion of stubbornness and abject curiosity, a picture of near-docility as she stood calmly at Mal's side. By the doctor's expression she was obviously still too close, but if Mal stepped away any more he figured he'd be putting his boot in so deep it was likely to stay there until those damned Reavers happened upon them again.
"Correct me if I'm wrong," Simon said. "But have we or have we not jumped back into the world of the living?"
What in the di yu was he going on about? Mal frowned. "If by that, you mean has River shown us up as being a better pilot then I could've ever hoped for, flown us like hell to safer water, an' is more deserving of thanks than I'm likely to give? Then, yes. She has. And she is."
He glanced down, not bothering to hide the look he wanted--needed--to give her right now, not caring that Simon saw this. River returned it immediately, eyes locked firmly on her captain, on the man she had clawed and softened against, breathing perfect happiness on his skin. Mal smiled, just a little, and looked up to hear Simon's reply.
"Well, then," he said, softly, "if you don't need her anymore...I'd like a word with my sister."
At this River reached over and touched Mal on the hand. "Go, Captain," she said, voice clear and strong. "Have hidden us where there is only rock and stars, and they won't chase. They will protect us, as long as we need it." And he looked at their hands, wanting right there and then to capture the cool brush of her fingers and take them, unburdened with guilt or with jealousy, to his lips; to tell her yes, darlin', I know it, I've known it for too long.
But he didn't say it, and he didn't return the touch. He nodded at Simon, slipped past the younger man without a second look back. Behind him he heard Simon stepping in and closing the door, but Mal kept walking. He thought he heard River's voice. Falling through the Black seems scary but it's not half as scary as falling--
And there it was. What neither of them had been able to say, and still on it went. Retreating and advancing, his anxieties over a slip of a genius girl, a companion he'd looked to well past the point where he should've left feelings to rest, and now her brother. And yet she was the one who reassured him.
I need to sleep, he thought. At the galley doorway he stopped and peered in. Zoe sat, her back to Mal, cradling a mug of something hot. I need a drink, he corrected, and with a sigh stepped inside.
Zoe looked up. "Sir, passed the doc a while back. I think he was looking for River."
Mal sat down heavily. He stared at the mug, at Zoe's hands wrapped around the dinted enamel. "Yeah, well, he found her." Found us.
"That was some flying she did, sir. Thought we were in a spot there."
"She were gonna pull us through no matter what," he said, smiling faintly.
For a long moment Zoe just looked at him, dark, soft eyes pressing gently into his. Then she nodded. "Want some coffee?"
"Yeah."
They drank together, mostly in silence. But his thoughts were still with her.
-.-.-.-.-.-
They stayed with her as he paced the galley, waiting for the door to the bridge to open, waiting for River to come out and explain things, let him know if he ought to start sleeping with a pistol under his pillow and a lock on the door.
Zoe retired after a time, rinsing her cup and coming to pat Mal's shoulder, just enough to let him know that she knew and she was supporting him in spite, no matter what came of it.
"Get some sleep, Captain. There's time enough to talk tomorrow."
He took her advice, shooting all sorts of looks at the still-closed bridge door as he lowered himself into his bunk.
Disoriented, he shot awake what seemed like hours later. The room was lit in hazy red, from the control panel comm on the wall at his head.
The haze revealed the dark quilt he was laying on, the faint glint of the ladder, the pale features of River, curled into a ball not six inches from him, hands tucked under her cheek...
Swearing in every tongue he knew, Mal skittered backwards. Sometime in between Your ancestors were fucked by frogs and Dogs of fate must have pissed on me, River's eyes slid open.
She smiled up at him, curling her knees closer to her chin. "Captain," she greeted.
"What do you think you're doing down here?" he asked, now pressed against the far wall.
"You were waiting for me. Now I'm waiting for you."
"I was waiting to talk to you, River-girl, not shanghai you when you were tucked safe into bed."
She colored and Mal made himself look away, not admitting that he, too, was a tad embarrassed by how that had come out.
"Talk again!" she muttered, face dark. "Has it really come down to words? To sounds made from air and vibrations? Is that all connections people really feel?" She sat up, curling her arms around her knees. She looked chilled, so Mal pulled the quilt he was sitting on and tossed it about her shoulders. She shot him a long look.
"Words is what keeps connections from getting too tangled."
She nodded, face registering understanding. "You're going to share words with Simon, too, right? To keep our connection unknotted and strong. And now we must share words, secure the connection in files that can be stored away and not be misinterpreted."
Mal gave a nod, propping himself against the wall, feet stretched out. He patted the bed alongside him and River slid into it, tucked under his arm cozy-like.
"We do have to talk, little one, and you're going to have to learn to stay outta a man's bed till he invites you."
"Simon says I'm not to see a man's bed until I see a ring, but he wasn't clear. I see rings all the time - the planets and the moons and the comets, and I see a ring in his head and one in Kaylee's and there's one in your mind, too, one that belongs back on a dusty rock to a dusty bride..."
He started to protest her poking about in his head, before realizing that she was talking about his mother's wedding ring - the one she'd taken off and left on the dresser when he was four and his dad was gone.
"I think your brother had a different meaning than that," he started, but he wasn't very convincing because her hands had tangled with his and her breathing was warming along his chest and she was all sorts of comfortable right where she was.
"Mmm," she murmured, and then she was asleep and there weren't a thing Mal could do about it.
-.-.-.-.-.-
Mal had wanted to hold women, sure--they had all the right curves, and their eyes begged for it, and hell, sometimes they put up with so much go se he just thought they deserved it, and he didn't mind being the one to show them he understood--but women, well, they'd never been too keen on him holding them. Inara, in the interest of self-preservation, liked to fuck and forget; and Mal wouldn't go near Zoe with a ten-foot pole, no matter how wimpy her fella was. The dozens of promising eyes and full figures he'd met in his lifetime weren't too interested in the kind of comfort that lasted, the kind you had to pay for--they wanted quick warmth, a night of heat, and then they were gone.
That's what Mal knew Simon was thinking. Hell, Doc, I know it's all kinds of wrong, he said to himself, but he couldn't even let his thoughts continue--couldn't even imagine doing the right thing. It was never easy--never went smooth.
Her eyes danced around; she knew everything inside him; she was a better poker player than anyone he'd seen; and she could shoot a man square in the cornea from hundredfoot distances. Everything about her was right for him, called to him, made him long to touch her body and teach her what it was to be loved and pleasured and close.
Malcolm Reynolds couldn't help it. He kissed her warmly on her forehead, and then smoothed her hair back, kissed her cheek, realized it was going to be damn hard to stop himself, and whispered one final caress across her ear.
He thought she might be awake, but she never let on; she just let him fold the covers gently around her, and breathed so softly, like she'd never been so relaxed. It killed him.
The captain of Serenity stretched himself out on the floor with an arm across his face. It would be a long night.
-.-.-.-.-.-
The next morning found him still on the floor, the quilt he'd wrapped round River now tucked round him, and his bed empty, covers unmussed.
He was groggy and confused and he sat on the floor for several moments, trying to wrap his head around all the bits and pieces of the day before - from holding hands on the catwalk to kissing on the catwalk to Reavers and Simon.
He didn't hurry himself any as he stood and stretched, trying to plot what is next mood would be. It wasn't that he regretted any of it (well, alright, he did sort of regret getting caught by the Doc in such an almost-compromising position), but he didn't want to have any problems until he'd at least had coffee and gotten his holster back around his hips.
He went up the ladder and immediately was faced with his first decision of the day: face the crew down in the galley where he could hear most of them making rambunctious noises, or instead, head for the haven that was his bridge?
He decided he needed a moment of silence - and the possible chance that he'd see River before he'd see Simon - and turned right, taking the steps silent-like.
River wasn't there, however, but there was a full, steaming cup of coffee waiting on the helm for him. He sipped on it, staring out at the Black, mind still roving all that he'd done in the past few hours.
He couldn't bring himself to feel anything but hope when it came right down to things, something he thought he'd put behind him with the war and the following years spent on Serenity.
Now, however, facing a future with a wild, genius Pilot on his hands made him smile in spite of the early morning, in spite of the fact that the Doc may just surgically alter him in a not-so-manly way.
When Simon's voice sliced across his silence, he spun, feeling like he'd been caught doing something not good again.
"We need to talk."
-.-.-.-.-.-
"Suppose I can't argue with that."
"No. I'd say you're in no position to whatsoever."
Mal bit his tongue. He had been about to offer the doctor a seat, but something told him the younger man wasn't here to serve pleasantries. A few moments passed as Simon rocked on his feet, staring about the room--at the controls, at the empty co-pilot's seat, out at the stars. At Mal's feet, several inches above Mal's head, at the cooling mug of coffee at his elbow...basically, anywhere but directly at him.
After another thirty seconds ticked by Mal said, "Look, Doc, I'm all for clearness and communicability on my boat, but you're the one who wanted to--"
"What is she?"
Mal stared. "I'm sorry?"
"What is she? To you."
"I assume you mean River."
Simon tossed his hands in the air, at last looking at Mal, and at last showing some emotion other than stubborn immobility. "No, Madame Chin, proprietor of Chin's Buy and Try, Whitefall Docks...Of course I mean River!"
Mal stood. "You talked to her last night. Presumably you've already formed your own good--or not--opinion, so I ain't so sure it's even worth me answering you. But, if, on the other hand, you're willin' to actually listen to what I have to say...well. We may get somewhere here."
Simon's lips pressed tightly, but he at last nodded. "Okay. I'm listening."
Right. So he could either lay it all out, baggage and all. No holding back. Or he could pander to what he knew Simon wanted to hear, keep things nice and...simple. Get some quiet back on his boat. Some quiet back into his life. It would be so easy.
Except...except he'd be lying. And it wouldn't be simple, and she'd damn well make sure he never got any peace again. And it wouldn't stop. She'd turn him again, and together they'd fall even deeper.
You can't lie, Mal. He wasn't sure, even then, if they were his words, or hers. You want to because the truth scares you. Simon knows this. Just speak.
So he did.
-.-.-.-.-.-
"I don't rightly know what she is to me," he said, hastening to tack on "Yet," when Simon's face flared with rage. He turned his eyes away from the Doctor and tried to order things in his mind, make them clear, even to him.
"She means more to me than she ought, that's for certain," he finally muttered, crossing his arms and leaning back against the helm. "She's all sorts of good that I ain't got no right to - she's deserving of something grand." He felt the words gaining momentum as his line of sight slid inside, down to the heart of the matter - his own beating flesh that made all sorts of funny jumps when it thought about River. "It ain't that I'm looking to lay with her and be done - it's that I...it's that she's more than a girl, more'n a woman, more'n a genius, more'n a weapon - she's River. You know what I'm saying, Doc; you went in to save her and you brought her through hell, made her remember that she was still River under't all - weren't no plaything for no Alliance. Look at her now! Flying a ship and laughing and playing and being the girl she never was able to be."
He paused for a moment, not looking up. If he had, he would've seen River's curious face peeking around the door, Zoe standing tall and straight behind her, Jayne leaning against the handrail on the stairs, Kaylee twining her arm with Simon's.
"But she ain't just a girl, is she? She's a weapon, too, and a Reader. She's been everything to everyone. I can't ask her to be anything to me, even if I was bold enough to want it."
"So what is she to you, exactly?" Simon repeated, face drawn, pale, still. He was staring at Mal with his arms crossed, a tic in his temple.
"She's whatever the hell she wants to be and nothing more, dong ma?" Mal finished, face hard. He turned his attention back on Simon, ignoring the rest of the crew or simply not seeing them, so focused was his glare.
The Doctor kept their gazes locked for several terse minutes - minutes in which the rest of the crew shifted awkwardly, afraid they'd get caught and more afraid they'd miss something. Only River was still enthralled, eyes sliding back and forth, from one man to the other, keeping a silent tally in her head as to who would emerge the winner.
When Simon extended a pale hand, the crew's attention snapped back to their Captain, awaiting his next action. Mal, without even looking, stuck his hand out with such force that their palms slapped, the handshake sudden and firm.
"We're agreed?" Mal said.
"Agreed," Simon responded, their silent contract drawn up and sealed without having to say a thing. River gave a smile and bounded forward to hug Simon.
"She wants to be his," River murmured, reaching out to take Mal's hand. The crew, still mostly unaware of the situation turned their eyes to Mal, waiting for the other boot to drop, waiting for him to shove her away and call her crazy, but instead...
Instead they saw their Captain pull their Pilot to him in a hard tug and seal his mouth over hers.
Jayne pushed forward, confused. "Why's Mal kissing the crazy?"
-.-.-.-.-.-
There's admitting the truth of things, Mal thought, sitting alone on the bridge, one hand on the helm as he watched the stars whistle by and Serenity hum under his skin. And then there's spilling your gorramn soul in front your crew and still be alive at the end to tell the tale.
To say there'd been bedlam when he'd finally broke away from River was putting things mildly. Well, to be fair, it had been a largely Jayne-inspired sort of bedlam, and had mostly consisted of a lewd stream of consternation, dispersed with even lewder jokes. Sure, there'd been the expression on Zoe's face that Mal'd caught across the room--though this being Zoe, it was more of a non-expression--but he'd had that banked anyway. And besides, he was sure in his heart that she'd always known.
River had slipped away almost instantly. But she'd pulled his head down as they had broken contact, shielding her voice from the others, and whispered in his ear. "I'll see you." She didn't have to add tonight, alone, in the black, in your bunk, in your dreams. Her eyes had spoken every one, and her smile even more.
They were due to touch down on Athens today--just a load to pick up from a fairly reliable contact--so Mal was assuming she'd meant tonight...unless she was aiming to come along. But the job really only needed Zoe's hand, and although he'd been civil since this morning's little incident, Mal suspected his fishing for River's participation today would not so much test Simon's good will, as snap it firmly in two.
He massaged the bridge of his nose. In all honesty, he hadn't expected to say half of what he'd said, but who knew how to control these things? It weren't some sore buyer he could silence with a knock to the face or bullet to the leg. It weren't Jayne being drunken and insubordinate, or a kink in Kaylee's engine, or one of the million little things Mal had to deal with in this life of captaining and crime and running from the law.
It was him. It was a future he hadn't thought of before, which dealt in feelings and happiness instead of guns and coin and men with hands of blue. And it had come out in words, this life and this girl, all mixed up into images that had been swimming in his head since the day he'd looked across the bridge at her and spoken, without hesitation, of love.
Maybe he'd seen it but hadn't wanted it. Not as he did now.
And now the whole 'verse knew. An' there's gotta be some good in that.
There had to be.
And there was. Her name was River.
-.-.-.-.-.-
He went looking for her once he sighted Athens, wanting her steady hand at the helm to touch them down safely. The galley was empty, as well as the sitting room above the passenger compartments and the infirmary.
From the cargo bay, he could hear shouts of laughter and he eased in that direction, staying in the shadows of the catwalks to watch his crew.
Simon and Kaylee were holding hands, watching Jayne and Zoe load the mule. River was dancing among them, teasing Jayne, making faces at Kaylee, laughing as she moved. Jayne had something akin to a frown pressed into his forehead as he shifted crates. Zoe's smile wasn't really there, but Mal could tell from the lift to her chin that it was lingering just below the surface, probably thinking on Wash and what he'd be thinking in a situation like theirs.
"Be careful, River," Simon warned, then turned his attention back to Kaylee, murmuring something to the mechanic that made her giggle and blush, her eyes bright.
Mal simply watched them, his crew, as they sat together in something resembling harmonious calm. It had taken years to get such a mottled mix of people that fit so well together.
River stopped her dance and glanced up at him, her face cracked in a large smile. She took slow, easy steps towards him, taking the stairs on silent feet. Simon didn't even glance up and Zoe was distracting Jayne, none of them noticing River's disappearance.
"Hello," she mouthed, fingers extended towards Mal, still back in the shadows.
"Hello," he nodded, sliding his fingers along hers. "How're you?"
She grinned and danced forward, pressing their palms together. "I am River, I am Pilot, but most important, I am me. And you?"
"Never better," he muttered, breaking their silence.
River didn't look up as she folded their fingers together. "Interlocking parts made to interlock. A sign of evolution or higher powers?"
"Sign we're doing something right," Mal said, squeezing her hands. "Come now; didn't come down here to hold hands. Came to get my pilot to help us land."
She pouted up at him for a moment, then gave a wicked grin and went up on her toes to kiss him. "All systems are go, I take it?" she murmured in his ear, hands skating over his chest, and down, down, down to his holster.
Not having to elaborate any further, she floated out towards the bridge, arms swaying slowly, singing softly under her breath.
Mal swore under his breath, glancing back to see if anyone else had noticed. No one had and he let out a long breath. All systems go, he confirmed silently, knuckles white where he twisted them about his belt.
-.-.-.-.-.-
She might talk on a whim and seem at times as apart from reality as a human being could possibly be, but when River made a promise to Mal, she kept it to the letter. She removed herself from the activity in the cargo bay and took Serenity under hand, guiding them into atmosphere with barely a lick of turbulence.
Mal busied himself with the mule, for the most part tuning out Jayne's whining and Kaylee's chatter, but at the last minute slipped away, dodging Zoe's look of half amusement and half disapproval, and made his way quietly to the bridge.
He stopped outside the open doorway, allowing himself a moment of simply watching her work. River had about a dozen tasks she was attending to at once, and each was handled effortlessly. The job of two average pilots, one not-forgotten shipmate, one genius girl. It was all one and the same.
Mal lost track of how long he stood there. And he knew in the back of his mind it was probably the most ineffective was he could be using his time right now, especially when he should have been still downstairs helping Zoe. But he ignored it. Ah, the hell of it, he thought. Gotta be some rules a captain can break.
He eyed the approaching surface. This was one of the bigger cities they'd be visiting, and in a good while, too; but the contact point was a fair way out of town. And built-up urban sprawls generally made Mal itchy. He liked to see where he was going.
River waved the Port control, requested a slot for them to land. Fortunately the traffic was thin coming in today, and one was sent up almost immediately.
As she switched off the wave, River turned her head slightly, and with a flick of her eyelashes he realised she was acknowledging him. But she said not a word, simply turned back and kept working.
Game's up, Mal thought, and stepped forward. He stopped at her shoulder, resisting the urge to speak when she looked up, meeting his eyes. Instead, before he could think better and play safe, he leaned down, placed a hand on the crown of her dark head, and kissed her once on the lips.
A soft noise escaped from the back of her throat, and he almost--almost--lingered, let it deepen, because god knows his body wanted to. But he broke away, stood back.
He rocked back on his feet, the clunk of the ship settling into port spinning his mind back from the taste of her, to what he was actually here for.
"I, uh," he began, grasping for words that had mysteriously vanished on him. What are you, twelve? He tried again. "Be three hours, tops. That landing slot should be good for eight, so maybe when we get back..."
"I'll look forward to it." Be careful, her eyes added.
"We will," he said, quickly. He wanted to add, So will I, but he stopped. He didn't have to say anything. He could tell that she knew already.
Maybe he was learning, too.
-.-.-.-.-.-
The moment he stepped back on board, he knew his plans were shot to hell. Simon was waiting for him, arms crossed, letting him know that he had every intention of following Mal around until they were airborne. Kaylee, then, trailed after him, pleading at him to leave the Captain be. And following the whole lot of them was Jayne, making comments not meant to be heard by the living.
The interesting thing, Mal noted, was River's casual absence from the whole affair. After shooting Zoe a "please shoot them and be done with it" look that she didn't return, he announced they were leaving, eight-hour deposit be damned.
Kaylee turned herself blue trying to convince Mal to let her go and sight-see, but the Captain shook his head and informed her she could see all the sights she wanted to once they delivered their haul.
Hoping to drive Simon off his tail, Mal took the helm himself. The lift-off was anything but smooth. Simon retreated back down to the galley and Mal let himself reign triumphant, for the moment, over the empty bridge. Four hours out and he felt a twinge of concern about his still-absent pilot. Simon assured him that she was still somewhere on his boat; Mal took his word knowing the Doctor had probably kept an eye on the airlock since they'd left to meet their contact.
After waiting at the helm for another solid hour or two, Mal finally gave up his vigil and headed towards his bunk. He was halfway down his ladder when he realized he wasn’t quite as alone as he'd first thought.
"Captain," his missing Pilot greeted him. "I was wondering when you'd come looking."
Mal froze once he'd safely manoeuvred the ladder, up against the wall. "Got me all worried when you didn't show," he admonished, unsure what else there was to say to the girl presently stretched across his bed.
She sat up, hair tangled and messy and more delicious-looking than anything he'd seen all day. "Simon was thundering mad. Besides, I like it down here."
"It's a mite messy," Mal stuttered, absently rubbing at the back of his head, stepping forward clumsily. River smiled and slid off the bed, dancing towards him with a glint to her eye that told Mal all he needed to know.
"I like it down here," she repeated, taking his hand and leading him back towards the bed. "I like it because it's you, pure and straight." She paused, her head cocking to the side as she listened. "And you can hear Serenity as she sings."
Mal opened his mouth to answer, to try and dispel the nervousness and panic clawing at his gut, trying to rip through and gnaw at his holster, but River shushed him, a finger dancing across his lips to silence him.
"She sings a lullaby for her Captain; listen."
And Mal did, taking in the thrum that was his boat, listening to the engine purr and grind and choke and sputter in a tuneless song that eased his hammering heart some, made his fingers loosen their grip on River's wrists, made him ease back on his heels, breathing deep and slow and sure as his ship calmed him.
"She sings to her Pilot, too, you know." River said finally, turning serious eyes to Mal.
She waited for him to respond and he swallowed a dry tongue, managing to mutter, "What does she sing, witch child?"
River leaned forward, face solemn and still, easing herself up on tiptoes until they were cheek to cheek, breaths skating across necks, pulses throbbing in tandem. "It's a secret," she hummed into his skin, a giggle vibrating along his throat.
His hands jumped to her waist and he choked on a lump in his throat, feeling her shift in his arms, pressing against him. "I understand secrets well enough," he murmured, lowering his head to bury it on her shoulder, far too aware that he wanted to do all sorts of un-Captainy things.
"You had a secret. Ripped it from you in the cargo bay," she laughed, fingers sliding up his back and down his arms, pulling him away. He let her, unwilling to try and stop whatever was about to happen. There was purpose in his River's eyes and he was pretty certain he knew what put it there.
She raised trembling fingers to the buttons on her sweater, loosening them one by one. "Now we make our own secrets."
He felt himself, watched himself, raise a hand and catch hers, stilling her motions. "Ain't no need to, not unless you're - I mean to say, that it's alright if we, if you - "
She laughed again, fingers untangling themselves from his grip and returning to the line of buttons. She had them undone halfway down her front before she spoke, voice trembling just as her hands were. "I've no place for nerves," she said honestly, now easing the sweater from her shoulders. "I have been cut open, pieces of River taken out, played with, twisted and turned, refilled with parts that don't quite fit - I have no place for fear, for nerves, for what-ifs. I only know what I want and I want you."
Now she was releasing the catches on her dress, letting that slip and slide down her curves, landing on the floor. Mal took that small detail in - the sight of her dress lying spread across the cold metal grating, and realized, for what seemed like the first time, just how much he knew it belonged there.
"Feeling's mutual, darlin'," he said, and let her pull him towards the bed.
"Actions, Captain," she laughed, fingers already twisted in his holster. "Your words tell me so, but your actions - " Here she was stopped when Mal kissed her, easing down on top of her, letting their words fall silent.
-.-.-.-.-.-
No regrets. This was his first thought. It was also the feeling to which he woke, and it neither surprised him nor sprung from complacency. It was simply there, like she was. Didn't need to be said. It was almost as if, now, they had moved beyond understanding.
And he couldn't help but think that they were going somewhere. Fast.
His eyes were open but he may as well have imagined himself still in a dream. Flashes of the night before circled through his mind in a vaguely pleasant, endorphin-charged loop. He didn't need to look over to see her; she was alive, and she was there, even behind closed eyes.
"Good night..." he murmured softly, to himself, into the early darkness.
"Good morning."
Mal turned, saw a pair of round, dark eyes trained on his face. River sleepily snaked a hand underneath his arm and let her fingers trail, spider-like, over his bare chest. She parted dry lips, ran her tongue over them absently. Her teeth shone a little in the dim light, and he watched both her and this seemingly innocent act, with a feeling for which he was damn sure earned him a one way ticket to the Special Hell. Gettin' almost crowded in there, he thought.
"Good morning," he replied, leaning down and touched the now wet lips with his own. He felt her tremble with brazen want beneath him. With a sigh River pulled herself up until she was half on top of Mal, the sheets a tangled mess between them. She considered him for a moment, casting impishly bright eyes over his body. And once satisfied, she smiled.
"We are far, far away, for the sun wants to play, and the stars are all burnt to the sky," she sang, sweetly, then pressed her lips to his forehead. Her hair fluttered in a black shadow over his face, tickling him, getting in his eyes and nose. He blew a lock away and she blinked, amused.
"You okay?" Mal asked.
She nodded quickly.
"I mean," he added, "if there was...that is to say, I wouldn't want to think--"
The look of amusement vanished. River opened her mouth, but nothing came, and instead she leaned down, touching his lips gently. He kissed her back, the tiny movement of her tongue against his teeth sending swift, hot sparks through him until a new flush of sweat broke out and he felt too hot, too desperate to stay pinned in this way any more. He turned, clasping her face in both hands, feeling that perhaps she had been right; sometimes it was better to speak in actions than it was with words. She edged against him, suddenly all sharp angles and taut, flushed skin. Then just as quickly she broke away. "It is not wrong to think," she said. "You do right by me, Captain. You always do."
"I have a name, you know." He smiled weakly.
"Yes."
"Would you kindly use it, darlin'?"
"No."
This was spoken one breath away from his lips. And, soon enough, he had forgotten words all together.
-.-.-.-.-.-
He didn't know how he did it, she being the psychic genius she was and he being the clumsy Captain he was.
Somehow, he eased himself out of the bed, into clothes, and up the ladder without making too much of a racket. When he fumbled his belt, he tensed, waiting for her to turn sleepy eyes to him and ask him what he was doing, but she simply mumbled under her breath and burrowed further under the quilt tucked around her lithe body.
The galley was empty, reminding Mal that it was earlier than he thought. Moving as quickly as possible without making enough noise to wake even Simon, he poked through the cabinets and drawers and boxes, gathering together anything that looked edible. He crept on silent feet back to his cabin, juggling what he'd snatched.
He was halfway down the ladder before he realized that his bunk was empty, the pillow still cradling the soft indent where River had slept. The food he left in a pile on his bed before turning curious eyes to the bridge.
River was waiting for him.
Clad only in the quilt she'd slept under and a shirt stolen from Mal's closet, she was watching the Black, face set and still.
Without thinking about how to greet her, what words to use, how to assure her how he felt, he walked over and kissed her, lingering until he felt her melt against him.
"Darling," she muttered, eyes closed as he eased away.
"What's that?"
"All I can hear this morning is you - you've named me Darling and it's all I can do not to answer it."
He took the pilot's seat - Wash's chair - and, instead of turning to contemplate deep thoughts over the Black, he let himself study her. She coloured slightly under his gaze, but kept her eyes on the stars.
"What's so fascinating out there?" he asked suddenly, more curious than he'd ever been before. Before had been her at a distance, not - not ever - in his bed and his heart and mind.
"Nothing. I'm calculating. The chances of me sleeping in the passenger cabins again is slim to none. This is pleasing."
It was Mal's turn to colour and he looked out towards the Black.
"I dare say it is."
end
Authors: jazzfic, fireworkfiasco and ninamazing
Rating: R
Pairing: Mal/River
Words: 10,158
Disclaimer: Joss is Boss. But we love him anyway.
Summary: Of hardened space captains, reader-girls, and an understanding that falls a little left of centre.
Notes: This started life as a series of drabbles to while away an otherwise dull afternoon, but it soon took on a life of its own. There's a semblance of a plot somewhere in there, if you squint.
"Haven't ever bought protein before," she wheedled, eyebrows raised. "And never bought foodstuffs before, either. I need assistance. You are the assistance."
Mal frowned at her over the mule they were loading. "Darlin', I've a load of supplies to drop at Badger's doorstep. Ain't like I'll be having time to mosey about the marketplace, too."
"Don't make me bring Jayne," she threatened, eyebrows drawn together in a frown. "He'll make sordid comments and raise the rates. You, Captain, can charm them down."
"I don't think I'm the one to be doing any charming, neither. Now, did Zoe give you the credits?"
"Left pocket, front. Easy to keep track of." She paused for a long moment, her hands slowing on the restraints she was checking. "Captain, please?"
The look in her eyes was hopeful and tragic, all in one long gaze that made Mal's stomach drop out. He huffed a bit, but finally agreed. "Let's see if we can't get Zoe to keep an eye on Jayne to deliver this. 'Sides, I think Badger'd appreciate her manners a bit more than he would mine."
Two odd looks from Jayne and Zoe later and Mal was walking alongside River as they crossed the courtyard square to Market. River had a shy look of pleasure on her face - and Mal couldn't help but feel a hot swoop in his stomach knowing he'd put it there.
They wandered between the stalls, browsing. Mal was loathe to admit that he was enjoying the time spent in his pilot's company. She wasn't pressing him for anything other that his presence at her elbow, and he let himself be led around.
Only thrice did she look to him for advice on anything. Other than that, she was able to haggle down prices and flirt them even lower. Seeing her in action was something a little off-putting - he was used to her fighting to get things changed, not drawling her words like little Kaylee and smiling like exotic Inara and making cracks like warrior Zoe.
-.-.-.-.-.-
"Is that all?"
River eyeballed him innocently. Not that he could actually see her, what with two sacks of potatoes obscuring his line of sight, but he'd come to know her expressions to the point of almost being able to feel them.
"No," she said. "We have to get strawberries. For Kaylee."
And before he could speak she was off, twisting deftly through the crowd in search of the fruit-seller. Mal groaned under the weight he was carrying--Like I'm some gorramn pack mule--and followed her, trying his hardest to stay upright and balanced. It wasn't easy, but then, neither was she.
"Strawberries," he muttered darkly, to himself. He arrived at River's side, and glared at her over the potatoes.
"You got credits enough for those, little one?"
She looked up. "Don't need any." And she smiled, as if sweetness alone could stand in balance for coin.
Mal swore under his breath. He was going to need two hands for this. He knelt carefully and set everything down, then stood up, matching her innocent smile. "An' how, pray tell, is that? I don't see this good fella givin' his hard earned just 'cause you deemed it so."
She almost--almost--rolled her eyes. But he had a feeling she was above it all, as if she always knew better. That she knew how this little argument was going to play out, and was teasing him simply for the feeling it gave them both.
"No," River said. "You're going to pay. Because you're captain of a great ship, and that great ship runs by Kaylee's love as well as yours. And she's deserving. And--" She leaned up, kissed him on the cheek, "--because I told you to."
With that she disappeared into the crowd. Mal stared blankly after her. Words of displeasure made their way onto his lips, but all he could manage was, "Huh."
So, then: one box of strawberries. When he made to pay the storeowner simply laughed, waved a hand and let him go.
-.-.-.-.-.-
Mal was certain that Kaylee's face would make up for the hassle of trying to juggle two bags of potatoes, a box of strawberries and what he was hoping was protein.
He was all sorts of wrong.
Kaylee had leapt at him to the moment he came through the door and extracted the box from his pile, glowing like some hun dun had went and set her on fire. She'd gushed her thanks and was off, in the general direction of the kitchen.
But it was River's soft smile as she relieved him of some of the burden that let him know that he'd done the right thing.
"How much?" she whispered, the potatoes cradled in her arms. He couldn't help put notice that she had them balanced like they didn't weigh naught. Made him a mite proud, it did, of his pilot.
"Vendor took a shining to you, I'm thinking, cause he let me have them for free."
River's eyes widened and she took a step closer to him. "Captain, the man has four daughters at home!"
"Which is why I left him a generous tip."
Her smile grew. "You may think you're a mean old man, but your heart says different."
He didn't know if he liked the thought of her listening too closely to his heart - he took good care to keep it tucked down under spitfire and sarcasm, knowing that his crew were only people and that he was only one man. Had to have some way to get between them and whatever was coming, and distancing himself was the only way he knew how.
"Kaylee hasn't been so happy in I don't know how long."
"Happy is a feeling brought about by contentment. Some just need certain stimuli." She was eyeing him again, only this time her look was like nothing he'd seen before. There was a hint of ferocity, and that same shyness, and something he didn't quite recognize.
She looked down, suddenly, her shyness overcoming. Mal felt himself take a step towards her, shifting the bundle in his arms so that he could reach out a hand and catch her chin.
"River - " he started, unsure how to continue now that his skin was on her skin and everything was shifted. He felt himself get hot and bothered in turn, back tightening.
She smirked a bit under his hand, her smile turning up her cheeks. His fingers, all of their own accord, traced the line of her jaw up to the cup of her ear, tucking back her curtain of hair.
"Captain," she started, a hand coming up to take his. She pulled his hand down, letting the knot of their fingers dangle between them a moment. "There's much that needs to be said - "
"If that ain't potatoes, I ain't Jayne Cobb!" The mercenary shoved in between them, taking the packages from Mal's arms. River was jostled back a step and their eye contact broke, leaving Mal to watch her stumble after Jayne, head down.
-.-.-.-.-.-
Kaylee baked up a half-dozen of the potatoes to go with their protein at meal time--she had begged Mal to let her use more, on occasion they'd not had such fresh food at hand in months--but Mal was adamant. "You can have those an' no more," he'd said, ignoring the hopeful spark in her eyes. "Ain't no special occasion, 'sides, be foolish to eat up all our stock day it comes in." And he'd felt fine about it as he'd spoken, knowing full well his mechanic would come up with some creative way to pay him back for being so petulant. It was just how they operated, and it suited the both of them just fine.
Except it wasn't fine, and it wasn't Kaylee who sat atop his thoughts as they ate that evening. This was a feeling more worrying, and not because he disliked its being there. No, what disturbed him was that it had come almost without argument on either side; that it had brought about none of Inara's fogginess. If anything, this feeling was clearer than any he'd known before.
And more importantly, he was beginning to like it.
River ate her meal in silence, but Mal watched her, and knew just as well when his own head was down, so in turn did the girl let her eyes settle on him. And yet somehow they both managed to join in the general conversation, as if nothing out of the ordinary was going on.
"...And so I busted my cartridge whackin' the sorry sumbitch on the a--"
"Jayne!"
"Well it worked, didn't it?"
"You tell us, it's your story. You're the hero."
"Damn right I was..."
Well, general conversation being Jayne's oft-told tales from the days when he actually was a petty criminal to be feared and admired. Mal smirked around a mouthful of food, looked back at River to find her eyes this time directly on him, the near-shyness of their furtive glances having been whisked away and replaced with something infinitely clearer.
Mal had thought distancing himself was the only way to guarantee protection. But to step too far back was bordering on mistrust, even cowardice. Of those, Mal was schooled to neither, and he had no doubt whatsoever that River knew that. He smiled a little, looked down at his now empty plate. Of course she knew. This was a girl who saw all and missed nothing. Including mean old captains, whose hearts probably did speak different.
"Good, Cap'n?"
He broadened the smile; let it sit unabashed on Kaylee's happy face. "Good," Mal agreed.
"Even if you were all miserly with the rations."
"Hey," he said, holding both hands up in mock defence. "You'll be thankin' me later down the track, you mark my words."
"Well, my stomach sure as hell ain't," Jayne grumbled, and the others laughed. But a voice was absent from the merriment, and when Mal looked back across the table, River had slipped away.
-.-.-.-.-.-
He found her later that night.
But that wasn't right because she found him, sneaking up on silent toes that embraced Serenity as she moved.
"Captain," she breathed, a whisper of air snaking across his neck. He didn't let himself jump; he'd been waiting for her to come to him when she was good and ready.
All he did was pat the hard metal of the catwalk beside him, keeping his eyes locked somewhere out in the black that was his cargo bay.
She sat slowly and surely, as if she'd prepared herself for battle.
For a good piece of time, neither of them spoke. He could hear her measured breathing, the gentle swish of her skirts as she kicked her legs, the creak and groan of Serenity around them. He tried to keep his mind on those things and nothing else (nothing being the warmth he felt off her thigh, so close to his own; nothing being the smell of her, rich and female and not-his-not-yet).
Battling those thoughts had been harder and harder since...since she'd gotten on his ship to begin with. They hadn't been anything like they were now - no, they'd been dark and protective and will she ever be all right again? Things - and thoughts - had changed with time and experience; now they were heavy and possessive and was this, any of this, real?
He pushed his thoughts towards dinner and strawberries and laughter on the bridge when they thought no one was listening and tried to make himself relax. The tension in his back had coiled during dinner, when he'd been unable to keep his eyes to his own self.
All his hard work at thinking things safe was shot to pieces when River's hand found his in the darkness, folding over it and twining it with her own. Her fingers traced over the calluses in his palm, down and up and around and closer and closer to driving him insane.
But he didn't pull away.
He didn't know why, but he couldn't bring himself to tug his hand away from her. Her fingers tickled something fierce as they danced around his palm, but he wanted them there.
"What's to be done?" he said suddenly, shattering the silence.
She sighed, fingers stilling on their path. "Words are useless because they have meanings, definitions. Why can't actions be used in place? A smile is contentment, a frown sadness. Simplicity for those not grounded."
He thought about that for a moment, trying to put words to them. “There’s too many definitions, maybe. A smile means too many things, not unless you’re knowing what to look for.” There was silence from her and he turned, listening.
He forgot how his ears worked when her lips found his - gentle and soft and too sure of themselves. They knew how to play along his bottom lip and nip just there and make him feel all sorts of sure that she'd been flitting about in minds that were well versed in kissing.
Even that train of thought flew out of his head as her hands found his hair and his hands found her waist and things snapped into place, clicking like a cartridge into a gun.
She was the one to pull away, using sense he wished he had in spades. She didn't release him though; she held him cradled in her hands, fingers smoothing along his ears and down his jaw, then up to press his lips just so.
"Actions speak louder than words. I'm sick of words. 'I can't. I won't. I shouldn't.' Enough! I can, I will, I should." She let her outburst fade back into the darkness before speaking again. "Are my actions loud enough? Your mind is, the truth is, the 'verse is - now am I? Have I made things clear?"
-.-.-.-.-.-
He tried not to say it. It felt like a betrayal, to something he'd been holding onto for too long, feelings hard and full in the cavernous space where he'd left his heart a long, long time ago; Inara, girls in boxes, Shadow and Serenity Valley, all of it a fight with the god-honest truth he couldn't chase away. He tried not to, but knew if he said nothing there was every chance that the whole mess would break. We go this far, he thought, we'll pass the point of repair so fast we'll never get it back.
So he nodded, and leant gently into the small body. "Yes."
He could feel her lips move against his. He thought he saw flashes of light, and wondered if they were his doubts flying into the dark, and he caught her again, tasted salt and heat on her tongue, the dry scent of guilt sinking lower, and farther, and deeper into that empty space. And then there was a crashing of noise in his ears, and the light again, but it wasn't his doubts, and it wasn't his heart--
"Lashî--" Mal snapped, letting River go, just as Zoe's voice jumped above the klaxon blast.
"Sir! Alliance, hot on our tail. Need you up here, now!"
He stood, shaking a little. "Gorramn it, they hidin' in the black now? Thought we had clear space to run..."
There seemed to be two thoughts pulling at him; one making him blink rapidly and focus on Zoe's words, the flashing alarms, the other still leaning against River on the hard grate of the catwalk, hands and fingers clasped and touching, again and again. But it only lasted a second, his awareness of danger always too close to the surface for Mal to act any other way, and the first urge won out.
He made to move, when her hand caught his, pulled him back.
"Their actions are loud, too. But they aren't like me."
"Darlin', I know," he said, simply.
They ran for the bridge, River flying behind him on bare feet, small hand light and almost energised in his own. Zoe was in the pilot's seat, but slipped out immediately when they entered. She shot Mal a look--possibly knowing, but he ducked his head, lunged for his own seat, busying himself with the navigational controls. This was Zoe, he thought. Probably, rather than just possibly.
"Where in the gorramn hell'd you come from?" he muttered, staring at the grid, where a lone red dot--the Alliance boat--trailed the green dot of Serenity across the pattern of decreasing circles.
"Reckon someone trailed one of us from the Market," Zoe said. "Either that, or Badger's gone dirty on us, sir."
"After that job?" Mal shook his head. "Jayne told me he'd never in his life seen our little friend happier with a payout before. No, it ain't Badger." He looked at the grid again, then across to River. "Think you can get us outta here, albatross?"
"Dang ran," she said, almost a whisper. She shot him a look, and he saw a shine on her lips, swollen a little where they had touched his. "Hold on."
-.-.-.-.-.-
There were things he wanted to say to her before everything went to hell, but he bit his tongue to keep the words in. It wasn't the time, not here, not now, not when it would sound like he'd given up, that he'd lost faith in his pilot - worse, it being the faith he'd just learned to keep.
He couldn't help but watch her as she flew, hands steady as she pressed Serenity to her limits, making her jolt and jump around them as she awoke with fire and speed. River was working her lip between her teeth, testing the swollen flesh, which made Mal do the same, pleased by the traces of her he found lingering.
Zoe was a shadow in the back of the bridge, face hard. "Weren't no warning, sir," she said smoothly, voice betraying her only to Mal who knew how to listen. "Didn't even make contact; came outta nowhere. I tried to make radio contact, but..."
Mal swore and checked the grid again, more than proud when he found that the distance between the two ships was slowly gaining width. There was a tweak in his chest that made him grin down at the flashing blips that was him and her before he pressed his face into a mask, looking up at River and then back at Zoe.
"Looks like we're gaining sky," he said, trying to shatter the tension smothering them down like quilts.
River clucked her tongue at him. "Not who you think they are. Playing dress-up, playing hide and go seek, wearing things that don't belong."
"Who are they?" Zoe asked, stepping forward to brace a hand on Mal's chair. He patted it gently, offering all the support he could muster, not taking his eyes from River's face, now as hard as Zoe's had been.
"Searched them out - looking for the leader. Only madness to be found, placed, sorted." She paused, hand making a stray adjustment before settling back into place, urging Serenity on.
"Reavers."
Zoe swore and reached for the comm, urging Jayne and Kaylee out of bed. Mal kept his attention on River, torn between believing her and questioning her. Her eyes snapped to his, looking clear and warm, fierce and pained.
"Captain," she muttered under Zoe's shouted commands. "Have faith."
His answer was made for him as Zoe reached past him and switched on the radio, letting the rancid shriek of Reaver madness tear into the ship. River's eyes screwed shut, tears welling and spilling down her cheeks.
With Zoe struggling to switch the radio back off, he couldn't go to her side to assure her that he was still there, still at her side. Instead, he steadied his first-mate as she finally silenced the screeching.
"You okay?" he asked, trying to fill his voice with enough to concern to assure her but enough to keep Zoe from figuring things out too far.
She gave a nod but didn't look at him, focus locked entirely on the controls under her hands. Kaylee finally answered Zoe's call on the comm and she played Serenity's heart like a fiddle, making the purr turn into a throb, making the ship leap into the Black all the faster.
It was shortly after they ducked a moon that River made a small sound of contentment, fingers loosening from their reign of their boat. "Turning back, now. Don't like the crowds."
Mal checked the grid, following the retreating dot with happy eyes and checking the progression of another dot meandering past them. It was big enough that Mal knew it would deal damage to anything worth fighting.
"You okay?" he asked again, turning. The bridge was empty and Mal silently thanked Zoe while also cursing her, now unsure what to do, to say to the girl sitting across from him, to the girl he'd been kissing one fright ago.
"Someday, maybe," she answered, standing. She hovered about her chair like she was itching to leave, like she was wanting to stay.
He felt himself stand, take a long, slow step towards her, hands fisted at his sides. The tension in his back was all over now, so worried about being killed, about her being killed, about any more loss or death on his ship that he'd forgotten, for a moment, how to breathe.
"River," he started, but stopped as she threw herself towards him, folding herself into his arms, lips kissing his, hands in his hair. She felt more real this time, the light in his eyes, the Black at his back, her taste bittered with worry and fear.
But she was still warm and he was still hungering for her and there was still that certain click of things falling into place as her tongue slid against his, as her hands heated his blood, as his hands claimed her curves.
"Captain," she hissed into his ear. "Falling through the Black seems scary but it's not half as scary as falling--" She stopped, a hand trailing over his cheek and down his neck, around his shoulder to press against his heart. "I feel it, in here. I hear it, in here. I know it, in here. You do, too."
Words failed him for a moment and he gathered her closer, pressing his nose into her hair, taking in her scent - female and rich and might-be-his-might-be-soon.
She twisted in his arms and he released her, eyes taking in her widened eyes and worried lips, still tender, still swollen.
"Peek a boo," she muttered and turned her eyes to the door, where Simon was standing, hands planted on the door frame, jaw working for something to say.
"Hello."
-.-.-.-.-.-
There are times when the opportunity to go back, to change one little thing, one little action or word, would be welcome indeed.
This was one of them. And Mal was right there, in that moment, wishing to all hell he weren't.
Feeling a million pairs of eyes on him--though this was worse, it was one pair and they were his--he cleared his throat, perhaps unnecessarily but he suddenly had a desperate urge to do something that meant, if only for a few seconds, that he didn't have to look directly at Simon. Though he and River weren't exactly touching anymore, her hands were still hovering about his middle; in fact one he hadn't noticed earlier had actually sneaked into his belt, and there was a moment of excruciating awkwardness that seemed to last whole minutes, as he gently extracted her fingers and stepped aside.
"Captain, do you need her?"
For a second Mal could only stare. "I'm sorry?"
For his part, Simon appeared to be having an equally hard time looking at either Mal or his sister, and he shuffled his weight from foot to foot, one hand on the bulkhead beside the hatchway, half of his face darkened from embarrassment, the other pale from lips pressed tightly together. He eyed River, who without hesitation was gazing pointedly back, the look on her face one of frank openness and, Mal noted, innocence that still managed to be sharply perceptive. He could see how Simon might find it frustrating--this fusion of stubbornness and abject curiosity, a picture of near-docility as she stood calmly at Mal's side. By the doctor's expression she was obviously still too close, but if Mal stepped away any more he figured he'd be putting his boot in so deep it was likely to stay there until those damned Reavers happened upon them again.
"Correct me if I'm wrong," Simon said. "But have we or have we not jumped back into the world of the living?"
What in the di yu was he going on about? Mal frowned. "If by that, you mean has River shown us up as being a better pilot then I could've ever hoped for, flown us like hell to safer water, an' is more deserving of thanks than I'm likely to give? Then, yes. She has. And she is."
He glanced down, not bothering to hide the look he wanted--needed--to give her right now, not caring that Simon saw this. River returned it immediately, eyes locked firmly on her captain, on the man she had clawed and softened against, breathing perfect happiness on his skin. Mal smiled, just a little, and looked up to hear Simon's reply.
"Well, then," he said, softly, "if you don't need her anymore...I'd like a word with my sister."
At this River reached over and touched Mal on the hand. "Go, Captain," she said, voice clear and strong. "Have hidden us where there is only rock and stars, and they won't chase. They will protect us, as long as we need it." And he looked at their hands, wanting right there and then to capture the cool brush of her fingers and take them, unburdened with guilt or with jealousy, to his lips; to tell her yes, darlin', I know it, I've known it for too long.
But he didn't say it, and he didn't return the touch. He nodded at Simon, slipped past the younger man without a second look back. Behind him he heard Simon stepping in and closing the door, but Mal kept walking. He thought he heard River's voice. Falling through the Black seems scary but it's not half as scary as falling--
And there it was. What neither of them had been able to say, and still on it went. Retreating and advancing, his anxieties over a slip of a genius girl, a companion he'd looked to well past the point where he should've left feelings to rest, and now her brother. And yet she was the one who reassured him.
I need to sleep, he thought. At the galley doorway he stopped and peered in. Zoe sat, her back to Mal, cradling a mug of something hot. I need a drink, he corrected, and with a sigh stepped inside.
Zoe looked up. "Sir, passed the doc a while back. I think he was looking for River."
Mal sat down heavily. He stared at the mug, at Zoe's hands wrapped around the dinted enamel. "Yeah, well, he found her." Found us.
"That was some flying she did, sir. Thought we were in a spot there."
"She were gonna pull us through no matter what," he said, smiling faintly.
For a long moment Zoe just looked at him, dark, soft eyes pressing gently into his. Then she nodded. "Want some coffee?"
"Yeah."
They drank together, mostly in silence. But his thoughts were still with her.
-.-.-.-.-.-
They stayed with her as he paced the galley, waiting for the door to the bridge to open, waiting for River to come out and explain things, let him know if he ought to start sleeping with a pistol under his pillow and a lock on the door.
Zoe retired after a time, rinsing her cup and coming to pat Mal's shoulder, just enough to let him know that she knew and she was supporting him in spite, no matter what came of it.
"Get some sleep, Captain. There's time enough to talk tomorrow."
He took her advice, shooting all sorts of looks at the still-closed bridge door as he lowered himself into his bunk.
Disoriented, he shot awake what seemed like hours later. The room was lit in hazy red, from the control panel comm on the wall at his head.
The haze revealed the dark quilt he was laying on, the faint glint of the ladder, the pale features of River, curled into a ball not six inches from him, hands tucked under her cheek...
Swearing in every tongue he knew, Mal skittered backwards. Sometime in between Your ancestors were fucked by frogs and Dogs of fate must have pissed on me, River's eyes slid open.
She smiled up at him, curling her knees closer to her chin. "Captain," she greeted.
"What do you think you're doing down here?" he asked, now pressed against the far wall.
"You were waiting for me. Now I'm waiting for you."
"I was waiting to talk to you, River-girl, not shanghai you when you were tucked safe into bed."
She colored and Mal made himself look away, not admitting that he, too, was a tad embarrassed by how that had come out.
"Talk again!" she muttered, face dark. "Has it really come down to words? To sounds made from air and vibrations? Is that all connections people really feel?" She sat up, curling her arms around her knees. She looked chilled, so Mal pulled the quilt he was sitting on and tossed it about her shoulders. She shot him a long look.
"Words is what keeps connections from getting too tangled."
She nodded, face registering understanding. "You're going to share words with Simon, too, right? To keep our connection unknotted and strong. And now we must share words, secure the connection in files that can be stored away and not be misinterpreted."
Mal gave a nod, propping himself against the wall, feet stretched out. He patted the bed alongside him and River slid into it, tucked under his arm cozy-like.
"We do have to talk, little one, and you're going to have to learn to stay outta a man's bed till he invites you."
"Simon says I'm not to see a man's bed until I see a ring, but he wasn't clear. I see rings all the time - the planets and the moons and the comets, and I see a ring in his head and one in Kaylee's and there's one in your mind, too, one that belongs back on a dusty rock to a dusty bride..."
He started to protest her poking about in his head, before realizing that she was talking about his mother's wedding ring - the one she'd taken off and left on the dresser when he was four and his dad was gone.
"I think your brother had a different meaning than that," he started, but he wasn't very convincing because her hands had tangled with his and her breathing was warming along his chest and she was all sorts of comfortable right where she was.
"Mmm," she murmured, and then she was asleep and there weren't a thing Mal could do about it.
-.-.-.-.-.-
Mal had wanted to hold women, sure--they had all the right curves, and their eyes begged for it, and hell, sometimes they put up with so much go se he just thought they deserved it, and he didn't mind being the one to show them he understood--but women, well, they'd never been too keen on him holding them. Inara, in the interest of self-preservation, liked to fuck and forget; and Mal wouldn't go near Zoe with a ten-foot pole, no matter how wimpy her fella was. The dozens of promising eyes and full figures he'd met in his lifetime weren't too interested in the kind of comfort that lasted, the kind you had to pay for--they wanted quick warmth, a night of heat, and then they were gone.
That's what Mal knew Simon was thinking. Hell, Doc, I know it's all kinds of wrong, he said to himself, but he couldn't even let his thoughts continue--couldn't even imagine doing the right thing. It was never easy--never went smooth.
Her eyes danced around; she knew everything inside him; she was a better poker player than anyone he'd seen; and she could shoot a man square in the cornea from hundredfoot distances. Everything about her was right for him, called to him, made him long to touch her body and teach her what it was to be loved and pleasured and close.
Malcolm Reynolds couldn't help it. He kissed her warmly on her forehead, and then smoothed her hair back, kissed her cheek, realized it was going to be damn hard to stop himself, and whispered one final caress across her ear.
He thought she might be awake, but she never let on; she just let him fold the covers gently around her, and breathed so softly, like she'd never been so relaxed. It killed him.
The captain of Serenity stretched himself out on the floor with an arm across his face. It would be a long night.
-.-.-.-.-.-
The next morning found him still on the floor, the quilt he'd wrapped round River now tucked round him, and his bed empty, covers unmussed.
He was groggy and confused and he sat on the floor for several moments, trying to wrap his head around all the bits and pieces of the day before - from holding hands on the catwalk to kissing on the catwalk to Reavers and Simon.
He didn't hurry himself any as he stood and stretched, trying to plot what is next mood would be. It wasn't that he regretted any of it (well, alright, he did sort of regret getting caught by the Doc in such an almost-compromising position), but he didn't want to have any problems until he'd at least had coffee and gotten his holster back around his hips.
He went up the ladder and immediately was faced with his first decision of the day: face the crew down in the galley where he could hear most of them making rambunctious noises, or instead, head for the haven that was his bridge?
He decided he needed a moment of silence - and the possible chance that he'd see River before he'd see Simon - and turned right, taking the steps silent-like.
River wasn't there, however, but there was a full, steaming cup of coffee waiting on the helm for him. He sipped on it, staring out at the Black, mind still roving all that he'd done in the past few hours.
He couldn't bring himself to feel anything but hope when it came right down to things, something he thought he'd put behind him with the war and the following years spent on Serenity.
Now, however, facing a future with a wild, genius Pilot on his hands made him smile in spite of the early morning, in spite of the fact that the Doc may just surgically alter him in a not-so-manly way.
When Simon's voice sliced across his silence, he spun, feeling like he'd been caught doing something not good again.
"We need to talk."
-.-.-.-.-.-
"Suppose I can't argue with that."
"No. I'd say you're in no position to whatsoever."
Mal bit his tongue. He had been about to offer the doctor a seat, but something told him the younger man wasn't here to serve pleasantries. A few moments passed as Simon rocked on his feet, staring about the room--at the controls, at the empty co-pilot's seat, out at the stars. At Mal's feet, several inches above Mal's head, at the cooling mug of coffee at his elbow...basically, anywhere but directly at him.
After another thirty seconds ticked by Mal said, "Look, Doc, I'm all for clearness and communicability on my boat, but you're the one who wanted to--"
"What is she?"
Mal stared. "I'm sorry?"
"What is she? To you."
"I assume you mean River."
Simon tossed his hands in the air, at last looking at Mal, and at last showing some emotion other than stubborn immobility. "No, Madame Chin, proprietor of Chin's Buy and Try, Whitefall Docks...Of course I mean River!"
Mal stood. "You talked to her last night. Presumably you've already formed your own good--or not--opinion, so I ain't so sure it's even worth me answering you. But, if, on the other hand, you're willin' to actually listen to what I have to say...well. We may get somewhere here."
Simon's lips pressed tightly, but he at last nodded. "Okay. I'm listening."
Right. So he could either lay it all out, baggage and all. No holding back. Or he could pander to what he knew Simon wanted to hear, keep things nice and...simple. Get some quiet back on his boat. Some quiet back into his life. It would be so easy.
Except...except he'd be lying. And it wouldn't be simple, and she'd damn well make sure he never got any peace again. And it wouldn't stop. She'd turn him again, and together they'd fall even deeper.
You can't lie, Mal. He wasn't sure, even then, if they were his words, or hers. You want to because the truth scares you. Simon knows this. Just speak.
So he did.
-.-.-.-.-.-
"I don't rightly know what she is to me," he said, hastening to tack on "Yet," when Simon's face flared with rage. He turned his eyes away from the Doctor and tried to order things in his mind, make them clear, even to him.
"She means more to me than she ought, that's for certain," he finally muttered, crossing his arms and leaning back against the helm. "She's all sorts of good that I ain't got no right to - she's deserving of something grand." He felt the words gaining momentum as his line of sight slid inside, down to the heart of the matter - his own beating flesh that made all sorts of funny jumps when it thought about River. "It ain't that I'm looking to lay with her and be done - it's that I...it's that she's more than a girl, more'n a woman, more'n a genius, more'n a weapon - she's River. You know what I'm saying, Doc; you went in to save her and you brought her through hell, made her remember that she was still River under't all - weren't no plaything for no Alliance. Look at her now! Flying a ship and laughing and playing and being the girl she never was able to be."
He paused for a moment, not looking up. If he had, he would've seen River's curious face peeking around the door, Zoe standing tall and straight behind her, Jayne leaning against the handrail on the stairs, Kaylee twining her arm with Simon's.
"But she ain't just a girl, is she? She's a weapon, too, and a Reader. She's been everything to everyone. I can't ask her to be anything to me, even if I was bold enough to want it."
"So what is she to you, exactly?" Simon repeated, face drawn, pale, still. He was staring at Mal with his arms crossed, a tic in his temple.
"She's whatever the hell she wants to be and nothing more, dong ma?" Mal finished, face hard. He turned his attention back on Simon, ignoring the rest of the crew or simply not seeing them, so focused was his glare.
The Doctor kept their gazes locked for several terse minutes - minutes in which the rest of the crew shifted awkwardly, afraid they'd get caught and more afraid they'd miss something. Only River was still enthralled, eyes sliding back and forth, from one man to the other, keeping a silent tally in her head as to who would emerge the winner.
When Simon extended a pale hand, the crew's attention snapped back to their Captain, awaiting his next action. Mal, without even looking, stuck his hand out with such force that their palms slapped, the handshake sudden and firm.
"We're agreed?" Mal said.
"Agreed," Simon responded, their silent contract drawn up and sealed without having to say a thing. River gave a smile and bounded forward to hug Simon.
"She wants to be his," River murmured, reaching out to take Mal's hand. The crew, still mostly unaware of the situation turned their eyes to Mal, waiting for the other boot to drop, waiting for him to shove her away and call her crazy, but instead...
Instead they saw their Captain pull their Pilot to him in a hard tug and seal his mouth over hers.
Jayne pushed forward, confused. "Why's Mal kissing the crazy?"
-.-.-.-.-.-
There's admitting the truth of things, Mal thought, sitting alone on the bridge, one hand on the helm as he watched the stars whistle by and Serenity hum under his skin. And then there's spilling your gorramn soul in front your crew and still be alive at the end to tell the tale.
To say there'd been bedlam when he'd finally broke away from River was putting things mildly. Well, to be fair, it had been a largely Jayne-inspired sort of bedlam, and had mostly consisted of a lewd stream of consternation, dispersed with even lewder jokes. Sure, there'd been the expression on Zoe's face that Mal'd caught across the room--though this being Zoe, it was more of a non-expression--but he'd had that banked anyway. And besides, he was sure in his heart that she'd always known.
River had slipped away almost instantly. But she'd pulled his head down as they had broken contact, shielding her voice from the others, and whispered in his ear. "I'll see you." She didn't have to add tonight, alone, in the black, in your bunk, in your dreams. Her eyes had spoken every one, and her smile even more.
They were due to touch down on Athens today--just a load to pick up from a fairly reliable contact--so Mal was assuming she'd meant tonight...unless she was aiming to come along. But the job really only needed Zoe's hand, and although he'd been civil since this morning's little incident, Mal suspected his fishing for River's participation today would not so much test Simon's good will, as snap it firmly in two.
He massaged the bridge of his nose. In all honesty, he hadn't expected to say half of what he'd said, but who knew how to control these things? It weren't some sore buyer he could silence with a knock to the face or bullet to the leg. It weren't Jayne being drunken and insubordinate, or a kink in Kaylee's engine, or one of the million little things Mal had to deal with in this life of captaining and crime and running from the law.
It was him. It was a future he hadn't thought of before, which dealt in feelings and happiness instead of guns and coin and men with hands of blue. And it had come out in words, this life and this girl, all mixed up into images that had been swimming in his head since the day he'd looked across the bridge at her and spoken, without hesitation, of love.
Maybe he'd seen it but hadn't wanted it. Not as he did now.
And now the whole 'verse knew. An' there's gotta be some good in that.
There had to be.
And there was. Her name was River.
-.-.-.-.-.-
He went looking for her once he sighted Athens, wanting her steady hand at the helm to touch them down safely. The galley was empty, as well as the sitting room above the passenger compartments and the infirmary.
From the cargo bay, he could hear shouts of laughter and he eased in that direction, staying in the shadows of the catwalks to watch his crew.
Simon and Kaylee were holding hands, watching Jayne and Zoe load the mule. River was dancing among them, teasing Jayne, making faces at Kaylee, laughing as she moved. Jayne had something akin to a frown pressed into his forehead as he shifted crates. Zoe's smile wasn't really there, but Mal could tell from the lift to her chin that it was lingering just below the surface, probably thinking on Wash and what he'd be thinking in a situation like theirs.
"Be careful, River," Simon warned, then turned his attention back to Kaylee, murmuring something to the mechanic that made her giggle and blush, her eyes bright.
Mal simply watched them, his crew, as they sat together in something resembling harmonious calm. It had taken years to get such a mottled mix of people that fit so well together.
River stopped her dance and glanced up at him, her face cracked in a large smile. She took slow, easy steps towards him, taking the stairs on silent feet. Simon didn't even glance up and Zoe was distracting Jayne, none of them noticing River's disappearance.
"Hello," she mouthed, fingers extended towards Mal, still back in the shadows.
"Hello," he nodded, sliding his fingers along hers. "How're you?"
She grinned and danced forward, pressing their palms together. "I am River, I am Pilot, but most important, I am me. And you?"
"Never better," he muttered, breaking their silence.
River didn't look up as she folded their fingers together. "Interlocking parts made to interlock. A sign of evolution or higher powers?"
"Sign we're doing something right," Mal said, squeezing her hands. "Come now; didn't come down here to hold hands. Came to get my pilot to help us land."
She pouted up at him for a moment, then gave a wicked grin and went up on her toes to kiss him. "All systems are go, I take it?" she murmured in his ear, hands skating over his chest, and down, down, down to his holster.
Not having to elaborate any further, she floated out towards the bridge, arms swaying slowly, singing softly under her breath.
Mal swore under his breath, glancing back to see if anyone else had noticed. No one had and he let out a long breath. All systems go, he confirmed silently, knuckles white where he twisted them about his belt.
-.-.-.-.-.-
She might talk on a whim and seem at times as apart from reality as a human being could possibly be, but when River made a promise to Mal, she kept it to the letter. She removed herself from the activity in the cargo bay and took Serenity under hand, guiding them into atmosphere with barely a lick of turbulence.
Mal busied himself with the mule, for the most part tuning out Jayne's whining and Kaylee's chatter, but at the last minute slipped away, dodging Zoe's look of half amusement and half disapproval, and made his way quietly to the bridge.
He stopped outside the open doorway, allowing himself a moment of simply watching her work. River had about a dozen tasks she was attending to at once, and each was handled effortlessly. The job of two average pilots, one not-forgotten shipmate, one genius girl. It was all one and the same.
Mal lost track of how long he stood there. And he knew in the back of his mind it was probably the most ineffective was he could be using his time right now, especially when he should have been still downstairs helping Zoe. But he ignored it. Ah, the hell of it, he thought. Gotta be some rules a captain can break.
He eyed the approaching surface. This was one of the bigger cities they'd be visiting, and in a good while, too; but the contact point was a fair way out of town. And built-up urban sprawls generally made Mal itchy. He liked to see where he was going.
River waved the Port control, requested a slot for them to land. Fortunately the traffic was thin coming in today, and one was sent up almost immediately.
As she switched off the wave, River turned her head slightly, and with a flick of her eyelashes he realised she was acknowledging him. But she said not a word, simply turned back and kept working.
Game's up, Mal thought, and stepped forward. He stopped at her shoulder, resisting the urge to speak when she looked up, meeting his eyes. Instead, before he could think better and play safe, he leaned down, placed a hand on the crown of her dark head, and kissed her once on the lips.
A soft noise escaped from the back of her throat, and he almost--almost--lingered, let it deepen, because god knows his body wanted to. But he broke away, stood back.
He rocked back on his feet, the clunk of the ship settling into port spinning his mind back from the taste of her, to what he was actually here for.
"I, uh," he began, grasping for words that had mysteriously vanished on him. What are you, twelve? He tried again. "Be three hours, tops. That landing slot should be good for eight, so maybe when we get back..."
"I'll look forward to it." Be careful, her eyes added.
"We will," he said, quickly. He wanted to add, So will I, but he stopped. He didn't have to say anything. He could tell that she knew already.
Maybe he was learning, too.
-.-.-.-.-.-
The moment he stepped back on board, he knew his plans were shot to hell. Simon was waiting for him, arms crossed, letting him know that he had every intention of following Mal around until they were airborne. Kaylee, then, trailed after him, pleading at him to leave the Captain be. And following the whole lot of them was Jayne, making comments not meant to be heard by the living.
The interesting thing, Mal noted, was River's casual absence from the whole affair. After shooting Zoe a "please shoot them and be done with it" look that she didn't return, he announced they were leaving, eight-hour deposit be damned.
Kaylee turned herself blue trying to convince Mal to let her go and sight-see, but the Captain shook his head and informed her she could see all the sights she wanted to once they delivered their haul.
Hoping to drive Simon off his tail, Mal took the helm himself. The lift-off was anything but smooth. Simon retreated back down to the galley and Mal let himself reign triumphant, for the moment, over the empty bridge. Four hours out and he felt a twinge of concern about his still-absent pilot. Simon assured him that she was still somewhere on his boat; Mal took his word knowing the Doctor had probably kept an eye on the airlock since they'd left to meet their contact.
After waiting at the helm for another solid hour or two, Mal finally gave up his vigil and headed towards his bunk. He was halfway down his ladder when he realized he wasn’t quite as alone as he'd first thought.
"Captain," his missing Pilot greeted him. "I was wondering when you'd come looking."
Mal froze once he'd safely manoeuvred the ladder, up against the wall. "Got me all worried when you didn't show," he admonished, unsure what else there was to say to the girl presently stretched across his bed.
She sat up, hair tangled and messy and more delicious-looking than anything he'd seen all day. "Simon was thundering mad. Besides, I like it down here."
"It's a mite messy," Mal stuttered, absently rubbing at the back of his head, stepping forward clumsily. River smiled and slid off the bed, dancing towards him with a glint to her eye that told Mal all he needed to know.
"I like it down here," she repeated, taking his hand and leading him back towards the bed. "I like it because it's you, pure and straight." She paused, her head cocking to the side as she listened. "And you can hear Serenity as she sings."
Mal opened his mouth to answer, to try and dispel the nervousness and panic clawing at his gut, trying to rip through and gnaw at his holster, but River shushed him, a finger dancing across his lips to silence him.
"She sings a lullaby for her Captain; listen."
And Mal did, taking in the thrum that was his boat, listening to the engine purr and grind and choke and sputter in a tuneless song that eased his hammering heart some, made his fingers loosen their grip on River's wrists, made him ease back on his heels, breathing deep and slow and sure as his ship calmed him.
"She sings to her Pilot, too, you know." River said finally, turning serious eyes to Mal.
She waited for him to respond and he swallowed a dry tongue, managing to mutter, "What does she sing, witch child?"
River leaned forward, face solemn and still, easing herself up on tiptoes until they were cheek to cheek, breaths skating across necks, pulses throbbing in tandem. "It's a secret," she hummed into his skin, a giggle vibrating along his throat.
His hands jumped to her waist and he choked on a lump in his throat, feeling her shift in his arms, pressing against him. "I understand secrets well enough," he murmured, lowering his head to bury it on her shoulder, far too aware that he wanted to do all sorts of un-Captainy things.
"You had a secret. Ripped it from you in the cargo bay," she laughed, fingers sliding up his back and down his arms, pulling him away. He let her, unwilling to try and stop whatever was about to happen. There was purpose in his River's eyes and he was pretty certain he knew what put it there.
She raised trembling fingers to the buttons on her sweater, loosening them one by one. "Now we make our own secrets."
He felt himself, watched himself, raise a hand and catch hers, stilling her motions. "Ain't no need to, not unless you're - I mean to say, that it's alright if we, if you - "
She laughed again, fingers untangling themselves from his grip and returning to the line of buttons. She had them undone halfway down her front before she spoke, voice trembling just as her hands were. "I've no place for nerves," she said honestly, now easing the sweater from her shoulders. "I have been cut open, pieces of River taken out, played with, twisted and turned, refilled with parts that don't quite fit - I have no place for fear, for nerves, for what-ifs. I only know what I want and I want you."
Now she was releasing the catches on her dress, letting that slip and slide down her curves, landing on the floor. Mal took that small detail in - the sight of her dress lying spread across the cold metal grating, and realized, for what seemed like the first time, just how much he knew it belonged there.
"Feeling's mutual, darlin'," he said, and let her pull him towards the bed.
"Actions, Captain," she laughed, fingers already twisted in his holster. "Your words tell me so, but your actions - " Here she was stopped when Mal kissed her, easing down on top of her, letting their words fall silent.
-.-.-.-.-.-
No regrets. This was his first thought. It was also the feeling to which he woke, and it neither surprised him nor sprung from complacency. It was simply there, like she was. Didn't need to be said. It was almost as if, now, they had moved beyond understanding.
And he couldn't help but think that they were going somewhere. Fast.
His eyes were open but he may as well have imagined himself still in a dream. Flashes of the night before circled through his mind in a vaguely pleasant, endorphin-charged loop. He didn't need to look over to see her; she was alive, and she was there, even behind closed eyes.
"Good night..." he murmured softly, to himself, into the early darkness.
"Good morning."
Mal turned, saw a pair of round, dark eyes trained on his face. River sleepily snaked a hand underneath his arm and let her fingers trail, spider-like, over his bare chest. She parted dry lips, ran her tongue over them absently. Her teeth shone a little in the dim light, and he watched both her and this seemingly innocent act, with a feeling for which he was damn sure earned him a one way ticket to the Special Hell. Gettin' almost crowded in there, he thought.
"Good morning," he replied, leaning down and touched the now wet lips with his own. He felt her tremble with brazen want beneath him. With a sigh River pulled herself up until she was half on top of Mal, the sheets a tangled mess between them. She considered him for a moment, casting impishly bright eyes over his body. And once satisfied, she smiled.
"We are far, far away, for the sun wants to play, and the stars are all burnt to the sky," she sang, sweetly, then pressed her lips to his forehead. Her hair fluttered in a black shadow over his face, tickling him, getting in his eyes and nose. He blew a lock away and she blinked, amused.
"You okay?" Mal asked.
She nodded quickly.
"I mean," he added, "if there was...that is to say, I wouldn't want to think--"
The look of amusement vanished. River opened her mouth, but nothing came, and instead she leaned down, touching his lips gently. He kissed her back, the tiny movement of her tongue against his teeth sending swift, hot sparks through him until a new flush of sweat broke out and he felt too hot, too desperate to stay pinned in this way any more. He turned, clasping her face in both hands, feeling that perhaps she had been right; sometimes it was better to speak in actions than it was with words. She edged against him, suddenly all sharp angles and taut, flushed skin. Then just as quickly she broke away. "It is not wrong to think," she said. "You do right by me, Captain. You always do."
"I have a name, you know." He smiled weakly.
"Yes."
"Would you kindly use it, darlin'?"
"No."
This was spoken one breath away from his lips. And, soon enough, he had forgotten words all together.
-.-.-.-.-.-
He didn't know how he did it, she being the psychic genius she was and he being the clumsy Captain he was.
Somehow, he eased himself out of the bed, into clothes, and up the ladder without making too much of a racket. When he fumbled his belt, he tensed, waiting for her to turn sleepy eyes to him and ask him what he was doing, but she simply mumbled under her breath and burrowed further under the quilt tucked around her lithe body.
The galley was empty, reminding Mal that it was earlier than he thought. Moving as quickly as possible without making enough noise to wake even Simon, he poked through the cabinets and drawers and boxes, gathering together anything that looked edible. He crept on silent feet back to his cabin, juggling what he'd snatched.
He was halfway down the ladder before he realized that his bunk was empty, the pillow still cradling the soft indent where River had slept. The food he left in a pile on his bed before turning curious eyes to the bridge.
River was waiting for him.
Clad only in the quilt she'd slept under and a shirt stolen from Mal's closet, she was watching the Black, face set and still.
Without thinking about how to greet her, what words to use, how to assure her how he felt, he walked over and kissed her, lingering until he felt her melt against him.
"Darling," she muttered, eyes closed as he eased away.
"What's that?"
"All I can hear this morning is you - you've named me Darling and it's all I can do not to answer it."
He took the pilot's seat - Wash's chair - and, instead of turning to contemplate deep thoughts over the Black, he let himself study her. She coloured slightly under his gaze, but kept her eyes on the stars.
"What's so fascinating out there?" he asked suddenly, more curious than he'd ever been before. Before had been her at a distance, not - not ever - in his bed and his heart and mind.
"Nothing. I'm calculating. The chances of me sleeping in the passenger cabins again is slim to none. This is pleasing."
It was Mal's turn to colour and he looked out towards the Black.
"I dare say it is."
end