I'm on a holiday fic roll....rolling, rolling, rolling...
I love holidays *g
It's raining outside and blowing a wind that's bending the trees in the park...
Life doesn't get much better than this...*g
Title: Winter / Spring
Author: Niz4
Email: nimitz4@hotmail.com
Summary: He keeps telling himself - thinkthinkthinkThink!. But this is impossible, because his mind is a mass of swirling, swirling white - a blizzard of brokenness that is blocking out all rational thought.
Rating: PG
Characters: River / Jayne - with a very small Mal cameo
Pairing: Rayne - Het
Disclaimer: Nope. Not mine...I can only dream.
Feedback: Gah...I will love you forever if you do.
Winter Spring
His nose is cold. He gently touches the end - tests the skin. It feels numb, like it’s fixing to snap right off his face. He re-adjusts the scarf to provide better coverage, glances over at the girl beside him.
“You ‘kay?”
She’s swamped in outsized mismatched winter clothing - Zoe’s old coat, someone’s gloves, Mal’s old hunting hat with the fur cheek protectors, and various other bits and pieces. All cast offs - outcasts, like her. Her eyes are wide behind the goggles, dark hair streaming out from underneath her hat, whipping free in the wind.
She turns her head towards him, grins against the stinging cold air and attempts to form an ‘ok’ sign with her thumb and forefinger. The gloves are too big, so she settles for a rapid series of head nods, and then quickly turns her head back to watch the country-side flashing past them. Eager not to miss anything…
It almost makes him smile, this bubbling excitement of hers. Everything in the outside world is interesting to River. He wonders what it would be like, to be like her. To be in this world, but not a part of it - an outsider, always looking in.
He hits the acceleration, shouts over the airstream.
“We’ll be there soon.”
~
“I said she’s going with you.”
“Awww Mal?! What if…”
“JAYNE! She’s a reader - she goes with you. It’s done. Lest I need explain to you again, what the benefits of being a Captain are?”
And then Mal puts on his ‘fierce face’, and just like that, the conversation is over, before it’s even really started. They lock eyes for a few moments more, but it’s purely a last minute attempt to salvage some face. A fairly pointless exercise - the set of Mal’s jaw clearly indicates that the decision has been made.
He holds the stare anyway…it’s who he is.
He says, “Right then…I take the girl.”
Manages to make it sound like he’s the one who made the decision - and he can tell that this shits Mal to tears. He watches him take a deep breath - hears the dangerous control in the other man’s voice as he grates out:
“That’s a good choice.”
And it’s satisfying to watch the slight tightening around Mal’s eyes - to see him struggle for this control. It’s a good thing...
He offers Mal the special smile, turns on his heel and leaves.
~
He consoles himself by stomping down to the cargo bay. Busies himself with checking the mule and selecting which weaponry he’ll take with him. He shouldn’t need to use it, this will be a straightforward pickup from a known collection point. Isolated. Simple.
But he can always hope…
“Don’t cry…”
The voice makes him start with surprise. “Ta ma de! Don’t do that, girl!”
He hadn’t heard her approach, and thinks as he often does that she moves like a cat, all fluid motion and stealth.
Her lean frame stretches out across the back seats in the mule - smooth cheek almost against his, dark eyes studying his up close. Her face is near enough that he can almost count the freckles across the bridge of her nose. It’s one of the features that separate her from her brother - this faint peppering of brown, like a tiny constellation across her skin.
Her brother has hardly any freckles, probably due to all those days spent indoors studying - but not River. Her skin has known sunlight at some point. He thinks she must have climbed a few trees in her day…
She watches him, watching her. Chooses to ignore his cursing - continues on in her quiet voice. “It will be all right…first winter and then spring; it’s the natural order of things. Life and death, Jayne.”
He can’t stand it when she talks like this - nonsensical bullshit. Like a jumbled up Wave, confusing and pointless. And then he wonders whether she’s picking up on his remaining frustration with Mal, from the argument - is perhaps referring to that. Maybe she’s reading him at that very moment? The thought makes his skin crawl and his voice snap.
“I ain’t crying! I mean…I don’t cry! And quit poking about in my head!”
She nods slowly, eyes unblinking. Completely earnest, if slightly unhinged.
“Tears aren’t necessary. You’ll do fine…”
It irritates him, and he hopes she’s not going to be like this the entire time. On the sliding scale of River-craziness he had been counting on a rating of ‘somewhat sane’ during the journey out to the cabin. He takes in her clothing, or lack thereof - bites again.
“Well, I ain’t the one who’ll be crying when someone’s ass is frozen solid! Where’s your damn coat?”
Large dark eyes continue to stare back at him…
“Go get it. We’ve got a job to do.”
She makes a face at him. And then scurries off to get her things - bare feet flying up the stairs…
~
Despite not having bothered to listen to Mal’s directions, she knows exactly where the cabin is, grinning across at him and nodding her head as they approach its location. Jayne tries not to think about how she manages to do things like this, he finds he sleeps better at night when he doesn’t think about it.
She reaches across and squeezes his arm through his jacket, her voice raised so that he can hear her.
“Stop here.”
They sit together in the last cleft of trees. He knows the drill, has experienced it before. The minutes drag on, and he sits patiently waiting for her, until his toes start to ache from the cold, which has somehow managed to seep through the two layers of socks and his thick leather boots. It’s numbing his feet.
He tries flexing his toes, to encourage the circulation…
If she feels the cold, River doesn’t show it. She sits quietly, studying the trees, tilting her head occasionally as if listening to something outside his normal range of hearing. It’s another one of her behaviours to add to his rapidly growing list of ‘creepy stuff’. He pretends not to be bothered by it, instead focuses his attention back on his feet.
“You should get someone to rub them.”
He raises an eyebrow in surprise, looks across at her. Her face is tilted away from him, still watching the trees. Well, this is new…
He extends a lazy grin. “Is that an offer?”
He can see the change in her face side on - catches her smirk. Her voice is tart, but amused.
“Hardly.”
“Well now, no point in us both freezing our parts off out here. I’ll just stretch this leg across…”
He pretends to make the move, and she snorts, shakes her head in denial. He can hear the suppressed laughter in her voice when she says:
“You’ll be rubbing my feet well before I rub yours.”
He blinks. Grins in full force.
“Is that a fact? Do you know something I don’t?”
And then her dark eyes slide across to his, a half smile on her lips.
“Always Jayne, always…”
He can’t help it, he shivers, and then shifts his position to try to disguise the reaction, reaches for the ignition. Damn cold… Flicks his eyes back to her face, sees that she’s returned to studying the trees. It’s irritating that she can unsettle him so easily.
“Can we go now? ‘Fore I lose my toes?”
She doesn’t look back, just nods her approval - voice low and soft:
“It’s time…”
~
He moves her aside from the door, ensuring he enters the cabin first. She can hold her own in a fight, he’s witnessed it before, but this is his job, and he makes sure it’s done his way. He checks the small area, both inside and out, satisfies himself that it’s clear before he allows her to go in.
She immediately moves across to the fireplace, crouches down and starts busying herself with the wood.
He stops in the middle of the room - watches her.
“What are you doing?”
She glances back up at him, frowns in disappointment, as if it’s obvious. “I’m using this wood to make a fire.”
He makes an effort to school his temper…really he does…but he can hear it leaking out in his voice. “I know I ain’t had your fancy schooling and all, but that bit I can figure out for myself. I’m scratchin’ my head as to why?”
She looks confused. “I need one.”
It stops him for a moment. He considers debating this further, but factors in the pain and suffering that goes hand-in-hand with trying to understand River Tam, and decides to give up. He sighs, shakes his head, and moves across to the trapdoor in the floor.
“Well, good luck with that - I’ve got work to do.”
~
The packing is almost done, and he pulls the strap tight, fixing the cargo in place. It’s quiet. He looks across at the other side of the vehicle, expecting to see her perched in the passenger seat. She’s not there.
He moves towards the cabin door, leans in - calls out.
“C’mon girl, time to go. You best get your skinny butt on the mule, else I’m leaving you behind!”
There’s no response, just the hollow sound of an empty room.
“River?”
He ducks his head to get under the low doorframe, looks about and realises it’s just empty space. He heads around back, calling for her. The snow has stopped, but there are high drifts about the building - almost knee high in places.
It’s cold…
He looks about, sees a smaller set of prints leading away from the cabin, towards the trees. Puffs out his cheeks - exhales a half groan, half growl of annoyance. This is just another irritation in an already frustrating day.
Starts trudging after her…
And his big steps are covering her tiny prints, the snow grating beneath his boots…
~
He catches an occasional glimpse of her in between the trees, just random flashes of red and blue, interwoven with the winter foliage, indistinct patterns of colour. Hears her before he can actually see her fully - she’s laughing. Little bursts of delight…
He breaks through the trees, finally sees what has captured her attention.
She snickers at her slipping, sliding motion across the ice, almost trips up, her arms flap crazily trying to regain her balance. He can see that she’s a quick study, her natural grace coming to the fore, helping her adapt to the special conditions - sees how she intuitively adjusts her movements, and then she’s upright again. Somehow manages a modified form of skating - and she’s gliding short distances.
“Get yourself back on the damn mule!”
It startles her, and she skitters out of control, almost going over, managing to steady herself at the last possible moment.
She calls out to him, her voice breathless with excitement. “Jayne - can you see this!? Isn’t it wonderful!?!”
He’s tired, cold and unimpressed.
“Yeah, ice, snow. Cold…” he pauses, “Well, I’ve had my fill - time to go!”
She starts moving again. Step, slide. Step slide…
A wide grin spreading out across her face, flows through into her voice. Desperate charm - pleading with him…
“No…no! Not yet. Do you know what this is? Can’t you see? It’s a River enclosed, and now we’re moving together - two River’s as one…”
Another burst of laughter - she’s clearly delighted by this concept.
He stamps his feet trying to bring some warmth back into his toes - if anything it feels colder down by the frozen water. He’s looking forward to getting back to the ship, to the warm coffee he’s going to make, to doing some weights - to feeling the heat flowing back through his body.
He looks back across at her - she’s still sliding about, totally focused on what she’s doing. She suddenly stops, throws her head back, face turned skyward, raises her arms out wide behind her. Like some dark wild bird in mid-flight...
She’s humming a song to herself, completely absorbed in the experience, like she’s forgotten that he’s waiting for her. This time he snaps - his voice carries a growl of warning.
“River! Get on the gorram mule before I take to warming my feet by kicking your pi gu all the way back to Serenity!”
She begs once more - giddy and laughing. “Wait…wait, Jayne! It’s not time yet, you have to wait for the end…”
She lifts her head, warm brown eyes dancing in delight, and her grin is so infectious that he feels a smile start at the corner of his mouth. Watching her like this, stirs up old memories of childhood play with his brothers, reminds him of simpler days. It gives him an odd feeling in his chest.
Ah, what the hell? His voice is gruff, but warmer than before.
“C’mon then, do your trick and then we’re gone. It’s cold.”
She smiles at him - triumphant. Holds his eyes with hers, takes a step forward, and he hears a sound like rock grating against rock…
Or the earth ripping apart…
And she disappears.
~
It’s so quick. His brain can’t quite catch up. He just stares at the bare ice, struggles to assimilate the emptiness.
Blinks…
And it feels like everything is forced into close focus - there’s a sound in his ears like air rushing out. Perhaps it’s rushing out to create this empty space around him? His brain finally processes the situation…and he screams out her name.
Steps onto the ice, and hears the tell tale sound of splintering beneath his feet - steps back onto solid ground.
Somebody is breathing fast and swearing a litany of curses, and he realises that it’s him. He keeps telling himself - thinkthinkthinkThink! But this is impossible, because his mind is a mass of swirling, swirling white - a blizzard of brokenness that is blocking out all rational thought…
He catches a flash of movement across the ice, and recognises the fabric of her dress - some of which has billowed up and out of the water. It just sits there for a moment looking like some strange buoy marking her position beneath the water, and then begins a slow sinking movement downwards.
“River!??!”
He throws himself down onto this frozen white, spreads out his weight across his arms and legs, and prays that it will hold, starts half-crawling, half-sliding, towards the fabric. And the world is empty. Devoid of all sound apart from his frantic breathing - the scrape of his boots against the ice…
The slap of his palm against the hard surface.
~
His arm snatches out, grabs the last handful of cloth as it starts to slide into the black, and the muscles of his arm tense, engage.
He starts to pull it upwards, back towards him.
She’s a dead weight on the other end, and he tries not to think about what this might mean, doesn’t want to contemplate whether it’s an accurate description or not. He keeps pulling the dress out of the water, and then has a sudden rush of fear that he is in fact stripping the fabric off her - imagines a naked River unravelling below, sinking free, arms wide open, dancing away into the black.
The thought makes him colder than the wet ice he’s lying on.
He plunges his other arm down into the freezing water, feeling about for something that is tangibly ‘her’ to grab hold off. His hand moves through something like river weed and he realises that this is her hair - floating, drifting up like a halo above her.
He grabs a handful and pulls…
~
“Breathe mei mei…c’mon now…breathe!”
He doesn’t know how long he’s been here, speaking to her in this way - had never imagined that he would ever speak to her like this. But these words just spill out of his mouth. They have a mind of their own.
His hands are pressing down, just like how he’s seen others do this…seen Simon do it to Book that one time. The short sharp compressions make her shoulders jerk, and her eyes are staring up at him, the pupils tiny dark pin pricks of black, almost disappearing into the brown...
He wants her to smile back up at him, wants her to say something mercurial and typically River…wants her to breathe!
The skin on her face is so white it looks translucent. He can in fact see the exact transition from white to indigo on her lips, can see the clear pattern of blue veins across the thin skin on the top of her small hands. These are so clear he thinks he could trace them all the way up her arms, with his fingers…if he wanted to.
But he doesn’t want that. He wants her to breathe!
He changes position, pinches her nose and exhales into her mouth. Feels the cold air escape from her lips against his cheek, as he watches her chest rise, rise and then fall...waits.
Hopes…
“C’mon River. Breathe, damn you…just breathe!”
And his voice is hitching with emotion. He’s thinking about how Simon will look at him when he tells him that she’s gone…how Mal will have his guts for garters. Knows that Kaylee will cry those low sobs...
Wonders how it will be, having to carry her back to Serenity - all silent and still.
He feels something wet on his face, as he rests his forehead against hers - his voice barely a whisper.
“Please River. Please girl…breathe!”
And he leans down, exhales into her mouth again…and feels the axis of the world slowly tilt, sliding sideways. Can feel his mind start to unravel, disentwine…spilling free. Perhaps it’s like a stone skipping across the surface of a pond?
His eyes go wide, wide with shock, pulls his mouth away from hers….stares at her in wonder. What did you do?!?!
There’s nothing to see. She looks like she’s been carved out of stone - skin the colour of marble, eyes wide, staring blankly back at him. Fluttering delicate hands now stilled, lying beside her.
But there’s the sharp pain of hope in his chest now…
He places his lips close to her ear, and his voice is a raw brittle whisper: “River…it’s time. Time you came back.”
Suddenly her eyes dilate back to normal size. She vomits a geyser of water out of her mouth - chest arching skywards, as she takes a great gasp of air…
~
He’s shivering. Thinks it’s more like a spasm - this action so violent. Uncontrollable.
He’s cold. Colder than he’s ever been - with his half dry clothes and slick skin, wet from the slide across the ice. She’s worse off than he is. All her clothes are soaked through, her coat long gone.
Probably being worn by the river…
It strikes him as funny and he laughs a sound that’s a cross between a cough and a sob. And then he can’t figure out what he’s laughing at - he knows this is not a good thing.
He drops her onto the table in the cabin, scouts about for what he’ll need - finds some old blankets. They look like surplus stock from the Unification War. They’re old, but they’ll do.
He returns to her, and goes to work on the laces of her boots - which seem to take forever. He’s having trouble making his fingers work properly.
So tired…
Finally one boot, and then the other drops onto the floor - each time it’s a loud sound in the midst of all this quiet. It startles him, which is strange because he knows each time when it’s about to happen - watches each boot fall down, down, down in slow motion. So Tired…
He reaches up to the buttons on the front of her dress, starts to undo them - and her hand snakes up to clasp his. These white fingers holding his tight.
Her eyes open…voice slurs like she’s been drinking.
“What are you doing?”
He blinks back at her, manages to speak through his chattering teeth.
“You’re wet. You need to get warm…”
She frowns with the effort of understanding his words - and then she slowly releases his hand, sets him free. Dark solemn eyes lock with his, her voice a broken croak as she cautions him:
“Don’t look!”
And then her eyes close again, black lashes contrasting with her still too white skin.
It makes him smile and he whispers at her:
“You ain’t got nothing I ain’t seen before…”
But when he peels the dress off her wet skin he closes his eyes - and wraps the blankets around her, holding her tight.
~
She’s swaddled in blankets, lying on the bed - shivering violently as her body starts to recover. Now that she’s taken care of, he strips off his clothes and wraps a spare around him. It’s still too cold.
Need more heat...
He sees the low fire in the grate - the embers will make it easy to re-kindle. Moves across the room and places a log onto it. Leans down to blow, watches the flames respond to the air, rise up and start to burn - and remembers that this is her fire.
The one that she needed…
He looks back across at her dark shape on the bed, and starts to shake.
~
“Jayne?”
He opens his eyes reluctantly. He had been dreaming that it was summer, and that he was lying on the warm sand beside the lake. Instead he can now feel a rough blanket against his back.
“Yep?”
“Where are my clothes?”
It takes him a moment to think - to harness this sleepy mind of his. And then he remembers…the cold, the ice…the stillness in her face. He shakes his mind free from these memories - focuses instead on answering her question.
“Um…they’re on the floor.”
“Oh…”
She goes quiet. Puts her head down - rests it against his shoulder.
“Jayne?”
This time he’s ready for it - his eyes are still open.
“Yeah?”
“Are you naked under this blanket?”
He clears his throat - tries to sound casual. This situation is…unusual…to say the least.
“Ahh…yeah…”
There’s a long pause, and then:
“I thought so.”
It’s quiet again, and he can hear the crack pop of the dry wood burning in the fire, can feel the slow, steady rise and fall of her chest against his. He has to ask…
“River, why’d you do it…when you knew?”
And he feels her still - feels her hold her breath, and then…release…
Her voice is quiet - soft and sad. She says:
“Some tests are meant to be taken, Jayne.”
And he feels a flash of anger and disappointment, to be so little trusted. It makes his voice hard - warms the words that follow.
“There’s easier ways to test me! Go ask Mal - he can give you a real good one that involves the air lock..!”
She stiffens against him, lifts her head - places one of her soft bird hands against his cheek, stares at him. And her voice is sorrow and wonder as she says:
“The test wasn’t for you, Jayne.”
And he stares back, eyes going wide, wide…as realisation hits.
And looking into her dark eyes is like staring into a night sky. He thinks that they might swallow him whole with their eternal blackness…their endless stars.
~
Epilogue
It’s the middle of the night, and he has taken the late shift again - like he always does. Mal had tried to switch with him, had been saying something about it being some kind of repayment for unexpected heroics, but he had insisted. He likes this time, when the quiet sighs of the ship and its’ crew are the only sounds to be heard.
She’s sitting at the table, her back to him, combing her hair. Somehow he knew she would be here, and he tries not to think about how he could have known this.
He moves towards her, stands by her shoulder, and says:
“Couldn’t sleep?”
Her head turns towards him, those night sky eyes moving up towards his face, voice a low whisper:
“No…”
And now his eyes are locked with hers, held in this place - a tight pressure squeezing his chest. Realises that somehow, somewhere along this path, he forgot to take a breath...
Inhales…watches her do the same. Chests rising and falling in unison…
And her voice is a sigh, both a secret and an offering. She says, “I’m dreaming again Jayne.”
He reaches for the comb, takes it from her hand and starts to run it through the long sweep of brown, making long even strokes. Burnishing her hair to an even lustre…
His voice is a low rumbling bass. He finds himself saying “Tell me...”
And she does…
********************************************
Translation:
Ta ma de = "F*** me blind!"
Pi gu = backside
Mei mei = little sister
It's raining outside and blowing a wind that's bending the trees in the park...
Life doesn't get much better than this...*g
Title: Winter / Spring
Author: Niz4
Email: nimitz4@hotmail.com
Summary: He keeps telling himself - thinkthinkthinkThink!. But this is impossible, because his mind is a mass of swirling, swirling white - a blizzard of brokenness that is blocking out all rational thought.
Rating: PG
Characters: River / Jayne - with a very small Mal cameo
Pairing: Rayne - Het
Disclaimer: Nope. Not mine...I can only dream.
Feedback: Gah...I will love you forever if you do.
Winter Spring
His nose is cold. He gently touches the end - tests the skin. It feels numb, like it’s fixing to snap right off his face. He re-adjusts the scarf to provide better coverage, glances over at the girl beside him.
“You ‘kay?”
She’s swamped in outsized mismatched winter clothing - Zoe’s old coat, someone’s gloves, Mal’s old hunting hat with the fur cheek protectors, and various other bits and pieces. All cast offs - outcasts, like her. Her eyes are wide behind the goggles, dark hair streaming out from underneath her hat, whipping free in the wind.
She turns her head towards him, grins against the stinging cold air and attempts to form an ‘ok’ sign with her thumb and forefinger. The gloves are too big, so she settles for a rapid series of head nods, and then quickly turns her head back to watch the country-side flashing past them. Eager not to miss anything…
It almost makes him smile, this bubbling excitement of hers. Everything in the outside world is interesting to River. He wonders what it would be like, to be like her. To be in this world, but not a part of it - an outsider, always looking in.
He hits the acceleration, shouts over the airstream.
“We’ll be there soon.”
~
“I said she’s going with you.”
“Awww Mal?! What if…”
“JAYNE! She’s a reader - she goes with you. It’s done. Lest I need explain to you again, what the benefits of being a Captain are?”
And then Mal puts on his ‘fierce face’, and just like that, the conversation is over, before it’s even really started. They lock eyes for a few moments more, but it’s purely a last minute attempt to salvage some face. A fairly pointless exercise - the set of Mal’s jaw clearly indicates that the decision has been made.
He holds the stare anyway…it’s who he is.
He says, “Right then…I take the girl.”
Manages to make it sound like he’s the one who made the decision - and he can tell that this shits Mal to tears. He watches him take a deep breath - hears the dangerous control in the other man’s voice as he grates out:
“That’s a good choice.”
And it’s satisfying to watch the slight tightening around Mal’s eyes - to see him struggle for this control. It’s a good thing...
He offers Mal the special smile, turns on his heel and leaves.
~
He consoles himself by stomping down to the cargo bay. Busies himself with checking the mule and selecting which weaponry he’ll take with him. He shouldn’t need to use it, this will be a straightforward pickup from a known collection point. Isolated. Simple.
But he can always hope…
“Don’t cry…”
The voice makes him start with surprise. “Ta ma de! Don’t do that, girl!”
He hadn’t heard her approach, and thinks as he often does that she moves like a cat, all fluid motion and stealth.
Her lean frame stretches out across the back seats in the mule - smooth cheek almost against his, dark eyes studying his up close. Her face is near enough that he can almost count the freckles across the bridge of her nose. It’s one of the features that separate her from her brother - this faint peppering of brown, like a tiny constellation across her skin.
Her brother has hardly any freckles, probably due to all those days spent indoors studying - but not River. Her skin has known sunlight at some point. He thinks she must have climbed a few trees in her day…
She watches him, watching her. Chooses to ignore his cursing - continues on in her quiet voice. “It will be all right…first winter and then spring; it’s the natural order of things. Life and death, Jayne.”
He can’t stand it when she talks like this - nonsensical bullshit. Like a jumbled up Wave, confusing and pointless. And then he wonders whether she’s picking up on his remaining frustration with Mal, from the argument - is perhaps referring to that. Maybe she’s reading him at that very moment? The thought makes his skin crawl and his voice snap.
“I ain’t crying! I mean…I don’t cry! And quit poking about in my head!”
She nods slowly, eyes unblinking. Completely earnest, if slightly unhinged.
“Tears aren’t necessary. You’ll do fine…”
It irritates him, and he hopes she’s not going to be like this the entire time. On the sliding scale of River-craziness he had been counting on a rating of ‘somewhat sane’ during the journey out to the cabin. He takes in her clothing, or lack thereof - bites again.
“Well, I ain’t the one who’ll be crying when someone’s ass is frozen solid! Where’s your damn coat?”
Large dark eyes continue to stare back at him…
“Go get it. We’ve got a job to do.”
She makes a face at him. And then scurries off to get her things - bare feet flying up the stairs…
~
Despite not having bothered to listen to Mal’s directions, she knows exactly where the cabin is, grinning across at him and nodding her head as they approach its location. Jayne tries not to think about how she manages to do things like this, he finds he sleeps better at night when he doesn’t think about it.
She reaches across and squeezes his arm through his jacket, her voice raised so that he can hear her.
“Stop here.”
They sit together in the last cleft of trees. He knows the drill, has experienced it before. The minutes drag on, and he sits patiently waiting for her, until his toes start to ache from the cold, which has somehow managed to seep through the two layers of socks and his thick leather boots. It’s numbing his feet.
He tries flexing his toes, to encourage the circulation…
If she feels the cold, River doesn’t show it. She sits quietly, studying the trees, tilting her head occasionally as if listening to something outside his normal range of hearing. It’s another one of her behaviours to add to his rapidly growing list of ‘creepy stuff’. He pretends not to be bothered by it, instead focuses his attention back on his feet.
“You should get someone to rub them.”
He raises an eyebrow in surprise, looks across at her. Her face is tilted away from him, still watching the trees. Well, this is new…
He extends a lazy grin. “Is that an offer?”
He can see the change in her face side on - catches her smirk. Her voice is tart, but amused.
“Hardly.”
“Well now, no point in us both freezing our parts off out here. I’ll just stretch this leg across…”
He pretends to make the move, and she snorts, shakes her head in denial. He can hear the suppressed laughter in her voice when she says:
“You’ll be rubbing my feet well before I rub yours.”
He blinks. Grins in full force.
“Is that a fact? Do you know something I don’t?”
And then her dark eyes slide across to his, a half smile on her lips.
“Always Jayne, always…”
He can’t help it, he shivers, and then shifts his position to try to disguise the reaction, reaches for the ignition. Damn cold… Flicks his eyes back to her face, sees that she’s returned to studying the trees. It’s irritating that she can unsettle him so easily.
“Can we go now? ‘Fore I lose my toes?”
She doesn’t look back, just nods her approval - voice low and soft:
“It’s time…”
~
He moves her aside from the door, ensuring he enters the cabin first. She can hold her own in a fight, he’s witnessed it before, but this is his job, and he makes sure it’s done his way. He checks the small area, both inside and out, satisfies himself that it’s clear before he allows her to go in.
She immediately moves across to the fireplace, crouches down and starts busying herself with the wood.
He stops in the middle of the room - watches her.
“What are you doing?”
She glances back up at him, frowns in disappointment, as if it’s obvious. “I’m using this wood to make a fire.”
He makes an effort to school his temper…really he does…but he can hear it leaking out in his voice. “I know I ain’t had your fancy schooling and all, but that bit I can figure out for myself. I’m scratchin’ my head as to why?”
She looks confused. “I need one.”
It stops him for a moment. He considers debating this further, but factors in the pain and suffering that goes hand-in-hand with trying to understand River Tam, and decides to give up. He sighs, shakes his head, and moves across to the trapdoor in the floor.
“Well, good luck with that - I’ve got work to do.”
~
The packing is almost done, and he pulls the strap tight, fixing the cargo in place. It’s quiet. He looks across at the other side of the vehicle, expecting to see her perched in the passenger seat. She’s not there.
He moves towards the cabin door, leans in - calls out.
“C’mon girl, time to go. You best get your skinny butt on the mule, else I’m leaving you behind!”
There’s no response, just the hollow sound of an empty room.
“River?”
He ducks his head to get under the low doorframe, looks about and realises it’s just empty space. He heads around back, calling for her. The snow has stopped, but there are high drifts about the building - almost knee high in places.
It’s cold…
He looks about, sees a smaller set of prints leading away from the cabin, towards the trees. Puffs out his cheeks - exhales a half groan, half growl of annoyance. This is just another irritation in an already frustrating day.
Starts trudging after her…
And his big steps are covering her tiny prints, the snow grating beneath his boots…
~
He catches an occasional glimpse of her in between the trees, just random flashes of red and blue, interwoven with the winter foliage, indistinct patterns of colour. Hears her before he can actually see her fully - she’s laughing. Little bursts of delight…
He breaks through the trees, finally sees what has captured her attention.
She snickers at her slipping, sliding motion across the ice, almost trips up, her arms flap crazily trying to regain her balance. He can see that she’s a quick study, her natural grace coming to the fore, helping her adapt to the special conditions - sees how she intuitively adjusts her movements, and then she’s upright again. Somehow manages a modified form of skating - and she’s gliding short distances.
“Get yourself back on the damn mule!”
It startles her, and she skitters out of control, almost going over, managing to steady herself at the last possible moment.
She calls out to him, her voice breathless with excitement. “Jayne - can you see this!? Isn’t it wonderful!?!”
He’s tired, cold and unimpressed.
“Yeah, ice, snow. Cold…” he pauses, “Well, I’ve had my fill - time to go!”
She starts moving again. Step, slide. Step slide…
A wide grin spreading out across her face, flows through into her voice. Desperate charm - pleading with him…
“No…no! Not yet. Do you know what this is? Can’t you see? It’s a River enclosed, and now we’re moving together - two River’s as one…”
Another burst of laughter - she’s clearly delighted by this concept.
He stamps his feet trying to bring some warmth back into his toes - if anything it feels colder down by the frozen water. He’s looking forward to getting back to the ship, to the warm coffee he’s going to make, to doing some weights - to feeling the heat flowing back through his body.
He looks back across at her - she’s still sliding about, totally focused on what she’s doing. She suddenly stops, throws her head back, face turned skyward, raises her arms out wide behind her. Like some dark wild bird in mid-flight...
She’s humming a song to herself, completely absorbed in the experience, like she’s forgotten that he’s waiting for her. This time he snaps - his voice carries a growl of warning.
“River! Get on the gorram mule before I take to warming my feet by kicking your pi gu all the way back to Serenity!”
She begs once more - giddy and laughing. “Wait…wait, Jayne! It’s not time yet, you have to wait for the end…”
She lifts her head, warm brown eyes dancing in delight, and her grin is so infectious that he feels a smile start at the corner of his mouth. Watching her like this, stirs up old memories of childhood play with his brothers, reminds him of simpler days. It gives him an odd feeling in his chest.
Ah, what the hell? His voice is gruff, but warmer than before.
“C’mon then, do your trick and then we’re gone. It’s cold.”
She smiles at him - triumphant. Holds his eyes with hers, takes a step forward, and he hears a sound like rock grating against rock…
Or the earth ripping apart…
And she disappears.
~
It’s so quick. His brain can’t quite catch up. He just stares at the bare ice, struggles to assimilate the emptiness.
Blinks…
And it feels like everything is forced into close focus - there’s a sound in his ears like air rushing out. Perhaps it’s rushing out to create this empty space around him? His brain finally processes the situation…and he screams out her name.
Steps onto the ice, and hears the tell tale sound of splintering beneath his feet - steps back onto solid ground.
Somebody is breathing fast and swearing a litany of curses, and he realises that it’s him. He keeps telling himself - thinkthinkthinkThink! But this is impossible, because his mind is a mass of swirling, swirling white - a blizzard of brokenness that is blocking out all rational thought…
He catches a flash of movement across the ice, and recognises the fabric of her dress - some of which has billowed up and out of the water. It just sits there for a moment looking like some strange buoy marking her position beneath the water, and then begins a slow sinking movement downwards.
“River!??!”
He throws himself down onto this frozen white, spreads out his weight across his arms and legs, and prays that it will hold, starts half-crawling, half-sliding, towards the fabric. And the world is empty. Devoid of all sound apart from his frantic breathing - the scrape of his boots against the ice…
The slap of his palm against the hard surface.
~
His arm snatches out, grabs the last handful of cloth as it starts to slide into the black, and the muscles of his arm tense, engage.
He starts to pull it upwards, back towards him.
She’s a dead weight on the other end, and he tries not to think about what this might mean, doesn’t want to contemplate whether it’s an accurate description or not. He keeps pulling the dress out of the water, and then has a sudden rush of fear that he is in fact stripping the fabric off her - imagines a naked River unravelling below, sinking free, arms wide open, dancing away into the black.
The thought makes him colder than the wet ice he’s lying on.
He plunges his other arm down into the freezing water, feeling about for something that is tangibly ‘her’ to grab hold off. His hand moves through something like river weed and he realises that this is her hair - floating, drifting up like a halo above her.
He grabs a handful and pulls…
~
“Breathe mei mei…c’mon now…breathe!”
He doesn’t know how long he’s been here, speaking to her in this way - had never imagined that he would ever speak to her like this. But these words just spill out of his mouth. They have a mind of their own.
His hands are pressing down, just like how he’s seen others do this…seen Simon do it to Book that one time. The short sharp compressions make her shoulders jerk, and her eyes are staring up at him, the pupils tiny dark pin pricks of black, almost disappearing into the brown...
He wants her to smile back up at him, wants her to say something mercurial and typically River…wants her to breathe!
The skin on her face is so white it looks translucent. He can in fact see the exact transition from white to indigo on her lips, can see the clear pattern of blue veins across the thin skin on the top of her small hands. These are so clear he thinks he could trace them all the way up her arms, with his fingers…if he wanted to.
But he doesn’t want that. He wants her to breathe!
He changes position, pinches her nose and exhales into her mouth. Feels the cold air escape from her lips against his cheek, as he watches her chest rise, rise and then fall...waits.
Hopes…
“C’mon River. Breathe, damn you…just breathe!”
And his voice is hitching with emotion. He’s thinking about how Simon will look at him when he tells him that she’s gone…how Mal will have his guts for garters. Knows that Kaylee will cry those low sobs...
Wonders how it will be, having to carry her back to Serenity - all silent and still.
He feels something wet on his face, as he rests his forehead against hers - his voice barely a whisper.
“Please River. Please girl…breathe!”
And he leans down, exhales into her mouth again…and feels the axis of the world slowly tilt, sliding sideways. Can feel his mind start to unravel, disentwine…spilling free. Perhaps it’s like a stone skipping across the surface of a pond?
His eyes go wide, wide with shock, pulls his mouth away from hers….stares at her in wonder. What did you do?!?!
There’s nothing to see. She looks like she’s been carved out of stone - skin the colour of marble, eyes wide, staring blankly back at him. Fluttering delicate hands now stilled, lying beside her.
But there’s the sharp pain of hope in his chest now…
He places his lips close to her ear, and his voice is a raw brittle whisper: “River…it’s time. Time you came back.”
Suddenly her eyes dilate back to normal size. She vomits a geyser of water out of her mouth - chest arching skywards, as she takes a great gasp of air…
~
He’s shivering. Thinks it’s more like a spasm - this action so violent. Uncontrollable.
He’s cold. Colder than he’s ever been - with his half dry clothes and slick skin, wet from the slide across the ice. She’s worse off than he is. All her clothes are soaked through, her coat long gone.
Probably being worn by the river…
It strikes him as funny and he laughs a sound that’s a cross between a cough and a sob. And then he can’t figure out what he’s laughing at - he knows this is not a good thing.
He drops her onto the table in the cabin, scouts about for what he’ll need - finds some old blankets. They look like surplus stock from the Unification War. They’re old, but they’ll do.
He returns to her, and goes to work on the laces of her boots - which seem to take forever. He’s having trouble making his fingers work properly.
So tired…
Finally one boot, and then the other drops onto the floor - each time it’s a loud sound in the midst of all this quiet. It startles him, which is strange because he knows each time when it’s about to happen - watches each boot fall down, down, down in slow motion. So Tired…
He reaches up to the buttons on the front of her dress, starts to undo them - and her hand snakes up to clasp his. These white fingers holding his tight.
Her eyes open…voice slurs like she’s been drinking.
“What are you doing?”
He blinks back at her, manages to speak through his chattering teeth.
“You’re wet. You need to get warm…”
She frowns with the effort of understanding his words - and then she slowly releases his hand, sets him free. Dark solemn eyes lock with his, her voice a broken croak as she cautions him:
“Don’t look!”
And then her eyes close again, black lashes contrasting with her still too white skin.
It makes him smile and he whispers at her:
“You ain’t got nothing I ain’t seen before…”
But when he peels the dress off her wet skin he closes his eyes - and wraps the blankets around her, holding her tight.
~
She’s swaddled in blankets, lying on the bed - shivering violently as her body starts to recover. Now that she’s taken care of, he strips off his clothes and wraps a spare around him. It’s still too cold.
Need more heat...
He sees the low fire in the grate - the embers will make it easy to re-kindle. Moves across the room and places a log onto it. Leans down to blow, watches the flames respond to the air, rise up and start to burn - and remembers that this is her fire.
The one that she needed…
He looks back across at her dark shape on the bed, and starts to shake.
~
“Jayne?”
He opens his eyes reluctantly. He had been dreaming that it was summer, and that he was lying on the warm sand beside the lake. Instead he can now feel a rough blanket against his back.
“Yep?”
“Where are my clothes?”
It takes him a moment to think - to harness this sleepy mind of his. And then he remembers…the cold, the ice…the stillness in her face. He shakes his mind free from these memories - focuses instead on answering her question.
“Um…they’re on the floor.”
“Oh…”
She goes quiet. Puts her head down - rests it against his shoulder.
“Jayne?”
This time he’s ready for it - his eyes are still open.
“Yeah?”
“Are you naked under this blanket?”
He clears his throat - tries to sound casual. This situation is…unusual…to say the least.
“Ahh…yeah…”
There’s a long pause, and then:
“I thought so.”
It’s quiet again, and he can hear the crack pop of the dry wood burning in the fire, can feel the slow, steady rise and fall of her chest against his. He has to ask…
“River, why’d you do it…when you knew?”
And he feels her still - feels her hold her breath, and then…release…
Her voice is quiet - soft and sad. She says:
“Some tests are meant to be taken, Jayne.”
And he feels a flash of anger and disappointment, to be so little trusted. It makes his voice hard - warms the words that follow.
“There’s easier ways to test me! Go ask Mal - he can give you a real good one that involves the air lock..!”
She stiffens against him, lifts her head - places one of her soft bird hands against his cheek, stares at him. And her voice is sorrow and wonder as she says:
“The test wasn’t for you, Jayne.”
And he stares back, eyes going wide, wide…as realisation hits.
And looking into her dark eyes is like staring into a night sky. He thinks that they might swallow him whole with their eternal blackness…their endless stars.
~
Epilogue
It’s the middle of the night, and he has taken the late shift again - like he always does. Mal had tried to switch with him, had been saying something about it being some kind of repayment for unexpected heroics, but he had insisted. He likes this time, when the quiet sighs of the ship and its’ crew are the only sounds to be heard.
She’s sitting at the table, her back to him, combing her hair. Somehow he knew she would be here, and he tries not to think about how he could have known this.
He moves towards her, stands by her shoulder, and says:
“Couldn’t sleep?”
Her head turns towards him, those night sky eyes moving up towards his face, voice a low whisper:
“No…”
And now his eyes are locked with hers, held in this place - a tight pressure squeezing his chest. Realises that somehow, somewhere along this path, he forgot to take a breath...
Inhales…watches her do the same. Chests rising and falling in unison…
And her voice is a sigh, both a secret and an offering. She says, “I’m dreaming again Jayne.”
He reaches for the comb, takes it from her hand and starts to run it through the long sweep of brown, making long even strokes. Burnishing her hair to an even lustre…
His voice is a low rumbling bass. He finds himself saying “Tell me...”
And she does…
********************************************
Translation:
Ta ma de = "F*** me blind!"
Pi gu = backside
Mei mei = little sister