Fic: The Man In The Moon ("Mare Serenitatis" - Part I)
Fic: Mare Serenitatis (3.1/6 of The Man In The Moon)
Author: Green Owl
Rating: PG (Jayne is crude, but what else is new?)
Summary: AU. River's first day on the job is a little more hazardous and profitable than she expected.
Previous Chapters: Pareidolia (Prologue), Mare Imbrium ( Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7)
Disclaimer: I don't own or buy/sell/process this mind crack - I just abuse the hell out of it.
“The processed harvest of the cacao tree is quite a perfidious substance,” Doc Hammond intoned, all commerce and mysticism as he held up a succulent strawberry on a toothpick. “One must take heed not to overheat the formerly solid matter or it will become runny instead of gooey - yes, that is a technical term, by the way. You see, if prime dipping consistency is not maintained, instead of adhering to the base, the glaze will slide right off.”
He lowered the last of the berries three-quarters of the way into the bowl of melted chocolate and swirled it gently, then lifted it up slowly.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?” he asked, giving River a roguish smile.
“Oh, yes,” the she agreed, utterly fascinated by the result.
Mother had never permitted sweets back on Osiris - you’ll rot your teeth, River Tam, and we paid dear capital to have your jaw expanded to accommodate those molars of yours - and she had to rely on Simon to smuggle occasional gifts of chocolate buttons or stick candy into her boarding school care packages.
The kitchen in Hammond’s Confectionery was blindingly white and spotless, not the harsh, sanitized tang of the redoubtable Mrs. Dao, but a soft, brilliant clean feeling that made River’s mind drift serenely as she watched the proprietor make his masterpieces.
Doc Hammond was a tall man (River was starting to think everyone in Hazard was tall, with the exception of perhaps herself and her aunt) with a head full of white hair and twinkling dark eyes. His presence was a combination of whimsy, eccentricity and warmth. He wore white pants, a white shirt, a white apron, a flat white cap and a smile full of shiny white teeth.
Obviously, decades of association with sweets had not rotted his dentition.
He gently placed the strawberry on the wax paper with the others he’d made and slid the toothpick out. “The key to this delicate operation is to use only couverture chocolate. Do you know what that is, Miss Tam?”
“No, sir,” River replied, clasping her hands behind her and waiting for elucidation.
“Couverture chocolate has an extremely high cocoa butter content. It melts smooth and glossy, making it perfect for covering such fragile items as fruit or the occasional flower. Of course, it requires tempering, but that’s nothing in the pursuit of perfection,” he explained as he placed the tray in the massive keeper unit with the six others he had made earlier in the morning. “You can taste-trial a few of the strawberries later on after you’re done. Now, let’s go meet the drypacked yummies.”
He guided her out of the kitchen, down the hall and through the door to the supply room. It took up most of the back of the store’s space and was packed floor-to-ceiling with brown boxes stacked haphazardly this way and that.
“Ah, my youngest has been here,” Doc Hammond said as he put up a hand up to keep one of the larger boxes from falling on River. “Mary’s never been very good at organization.”
River skimmed the labels, noting the different flavors of jelly beans, lollipops and fudge that were piled all higgledy-piggledy on the shelf nearest her. Her natural sense of order and tidiness was a little violated by the sight of such chaos and she was almost itching to get started with rearranging the room.
“For the princessly sum of 50 bits an hour, I would like you to keep a running inventory of the contents of this room,” Doc Hammond instructed, indicating the tightly-packed space with an expansive gesture. “I want to know how much we have of any given item at a time. For instance, do we have a glut or a dearth of peanut brittle? Will we have to fend off the greedy hordes of ravenous children with metals scoops if we do not have enough gumballs? Do we have too many kinds of taffies of for people to choose from easily?”
“Are you from a Core World, sir?” River asked as she ran her finger along one of the shelves and came away with a thin layer of fine dust. “Your speech pattern is different from that of most of the people I’ve met so far.”
“I hail from Londinium originally,” Doc Hammond replied, using a box cutter to open up a shipment of Jordan almonds. “Here, catch!”
“Why did you move to Shadow?” River inquired, deftly grabbing a hold of the two smaller boxes of the pastel candies he tossed at her.
“Too many children,” he replied, gesturing to a shelf next to her. “Would you be so kind as to pull a few packs of sour cherry drops and put them on the table? Three containers, if you please.”
River located the item in question and took down the sacks. “Not enough space?”
“No, too many children,” Doc Hammond corrected, peering into a carton that was marked “cotton candy”. He retrieved six bags and placed them on the table. “Core policy dictates one child per couple, two if the pair shows sufficient reproductive merit. Do you see any strawberry bonbons on that shelf to your left?”
“There is one carton left,” River replied, moving packages this way and that to see if there were any more hiding behind the boxes labeled “Boston Baked Beans”. “What happens if you have more than two children?”
“You lose your citizenship.”
His voice and his energy were calm and peaceful, but his words made River’s hand still as she processed the information.
“We’re going to need more of those,” Doc Hammond continued mildly as he pointed to a tablet of paper and a pencil on the table. “Make a note, would you, please? Bonbons are exceptionally popular in the summertime. Buttermints, too. We’re going to need more buttermints…”
He swept up two armloads of sweets from the table and wandered out of the room, leaving River behind to her inventory and her thoughts.
Core world citizenship included a great deal of benefits, including superior medical care, a fully-funded pension plan and exemption from mandatory military service as well as the right to vote, hold office and own property.
To have all of that taken away because you chose to bring another child into the world seems a bit extreme…
“River?” Dinah called, poking her head in the door, “could you refill the green apple jelly beans when you have a moment?”
“Certainly,” River replied, glancing up from her crouched position in front of a mound of tumbled candy boxes.
“Thanks!” Dinah replied, and disappeared from the doorway.
It just doesn’t seem fair to deprive a person of their rights for having a third child, River thought to herself as she swiftly sorted a mixed-up mess of caramels back into their containers.
* * * * *
“River, would you please take these over to Alleyne’s Garage?” Doc Hammond asked, indicating a cardboard carrying tray with four beverages Mary had just completed nestled in the indentations.
“I’ll do it!” Mary volunteered, her energy fairly popping with eagerness.
“No, it’s my turn,” Dinah insisted from behind the candy counter.
“No,” Doc Hammond said firmly as he held up one hand, all smooth efficiency. “I need you two here for the lunch hour. River, will you go?”
“Yes, of course,” River replied, wondering at the girls’ eagerness as she picked up the tray carefully in both hands. “Where is it?”
“Three shops down, can’t miss it,” Doc Hammond answered, pointing towards the south end of the street.
She exited the confectionery and wilted instantly in the heat, perspiration popping up on her forehead and cheekbones as she squinted in the sun. She turned left and started walking, regretting her choice of denims and a long-sleeved top more and more with each step. They were very comfortable in the air-conditioned coolness of the shop, but outside she felt like a fever victim sweating under a mound of blankets.
Alleyne’s Garage was on the corner of Main and Elm, a combination of fuel station, repairworks and junkyard that serviced almost all of the vehicles in Hazard. There were three repair bays and all of them were closed to keep in as much cool air as possible.
River could feel eight individual personalities toiling within the walls. She thought she caught a hint of Kaylee, but she couldn’t sort out the different wavelengths with the heat distracting her focus like it was.
She circled around to the door, peered in through the glass and almost dropped the tray of drinks.
Oh goodness!
She clutched the tray as she pulled her right shoulder back, wincing as her elbows connected with the side of the building.
He was in there.
She rolled towards the door to take another quick look but ended up gazing at him through the window, mesmerized by the loose, masculine grace of his body as he gestured to a vehicle that her cousin was working on.
How she’d love to see him shirtless again, preferably with a pen in hand and a sketchbook on her lap…
She could spend hours on his arms alone, from the indentations where his powerful wrists flowed into his square palms to the nubby skin of his elbows as they smoothed into the discreet bulge of his triceps to the bulk of his broad shoulders as they surged into his strong, wide back.
There is so much of him to capture for posterity’s sake...
She shook her head, bit her lip, rolled her eyes at the hormones that flooded her bloodstream and the blush that suffused her face as she flattened back against the wall.
Her response to him was utterly absurd and entirely irrational. She’d been dancing with well-formed men since she was a child and never once experienced the likes of the estrogen rush that just seared its way through her system. Why she was getting all shivery over a Rim boy just this side of civilized made no amount of sense in any field of higher mathematics or argumentation theory she’d ever encountered.
River pushed herself away from the warm brick, squared her shoulders and lifted her chin, refusing to be daunted by the Cobb boy’s magnificent arms, no matter how grippingly graceful they managed to be.
She was about to open the door when she felt the hard press of the barrel of a water gun between her shoulder blades.
“Halt, Alliance scum!”
River paused, a hidden smile curving her lips as she kept hold of the tray. She did not read any kind of danger, just a bit of juvenile recreation.
“State your business,” Zoe’s high, determined voice ordered.
“Beverage delivery for employees of Alleyne’s Garage,” River replied respectfully as she remained motionless.
“I’ll take those!”
A boy about Zoe’s age appeared out of nowhere and snatched the tray from River. He was shorter than Zoe and a little on the husky side, with hair a few shades lighter than a carrot and eyes the same brilliant blue as most of the Cobbs.
Perhaps he’s a cousin? River thought, playing along as Zoe motioned for her to put her hands against the sunwarmed brick. She didn’t have any time to ponder the possible connection because just as the boy put his hand on the knob to turn it, the door opened and out stepped Jayne Cobb.
“Hey, Wash,” Jayne greeted the boy, as he ruffled the kid’s hair affectionately. “Watcha doin’ here?”
“Zoe an’ me was patrollin’ the area,” Wash replied with a semi-toothy grin. He was missing a front incisor on the left and a canine on the right. “We captured us a purple-belly an’ lib’rated some cold liquids for the Cause. Independents ride again!”
“Hoo-rah!” Jayne congratulated the boy as he strutted into building before glancing over at Zoe and her “prisoner”. “Well, well, well, what have we here? First Core girl to ever do a lick o’ work in her life, I reckon.”
River clenched her teeth and tried her best to shoot icicle daggers out of her eyes.
Jayne didn’t seem to notice as he slowly folded his arms, leaned next to her against the wall and gave her a long, lazy grin. “What’d ya do now, Core girl? Wait, lemme guess…trespassin’, right?”
“My job,” she replied caustically, ignoring the wondrous way the muscles on his arms leapt and flexed.
“Eyes forward!” Zoe ordered.
“Hey,” Jayne said in a stage whisper to Zoe as he fished a pair of coins from his pocket, “I’ll give ya two bits if’n ya douse her frontside with that there super-soaker.”
River sucked in a breath, too shocked to speak.
“Four,” Zoe countered evenly. “We’re running low on supplies.”
A small squeak escaped River’s throat and her eyes went wide as saucers as she realized Zoe was seriously considering it.
“Sorry, all’s I got’s the two,” Jayne said, shaking his head sorrowfully as he jingled the coins in his hand.
“No deal,” Zoe answered, keeping her eyes and her water gun trained on River.
“Awww, couldn’t ya just wet down the one side and we call it even?” Jayne pleaded, pushing out his bottom lip in a mocking pout before leering at River.
She was going to do it…fear coalesced in River’s mind and she fought back, not thinking twice about delving into Zoe’s night terrors to search for a way out of this intolerable situation.
“Zoe Alleyne, this is conduct unbecoming of an Independent,” she announced in a sub-zero voice that would have stunned her father in its resemblance to his wife at her most coldly furious.
She breathed a sigh of relief as she felt Zoe’s hard scorn shatter into jagged little drops of shame. The girl stepped back and ran off, leaving River and her nemesis standing against the wall in the melting heat.
“Ya ain’t no fun, Core girl,” Jayne complained, scowling down at her.
River tried halfheartedly to convince herself that the crimson color that stained her skin had nothing to do with Mrs. Cobb’s demon child and everything to do with the ambient temperature, but that was a lie and she knew it. She pushed away from the wall, turned towards him, pulled herself up as tall as she could, and said, “I don’t see how my top getting wet could be considered ‘fun’ by anyone.”
“Use yer imagination, sweet thing,” he murmured, arching an eyebrow as he glanced down at her torso.
Oh, she didn’t have to use her imagination at all; she had his to do the unbelievably smutty math for her. Her mouth refused to work as she turned scarlet and took a step back from him.
“Careful there, Core girl,” he cautioned, tipping her chin up gently with one finger to close her mouth. “Might start catchin’ flies.”
River sagged back against the wall, her knees unable to support her as she watched Jayne saunter across the street to the Cobb family store, all teenage testosterone and cocky confidence.
* * * * *
Four hours later, her knees were weak again, but for an entirely different reason.
River’s first ballet practice in three whole days had left her hot, sweaty and feeling like her legs were made of liquefied gelatin. She winced as she carefully removed her pointe shoes and inspected her feet for signs of blisters and bleeding. None yet, thank goodness.
According to Grandmother Serra, she had been born with “good feet” - high arches, high insteps and flexible ankles - and probably would never have to deal with many of the items on the standard laundry list of dancers’ complaints such as bunions, corns and thickened toenails so long as she took proper care. This meant diligently wrapping her toes and packing them with lambswool and gel inserts before putting on her shoes and being careful in how she broke them in.
An ounce of prevention is worth more than a pound of cure, Grandmother Serra declared the day she took three hours from her packed agenda to assist her granddaughter with purchasing her first pair of pointe shoes.
River hobbled over to the dressing room and drew a hot bath for her feet as she removed her leotard and tights. When the tub was full, she poured in a half cup of Epsom salts and eased her feet into the gritty broth.
The Hazard Dance Studio was small but serviceable, specializing in instruction in the social dances that characterized the 1950’s and early 1960’s of Earth-That-Was - River’s father had already registered her to review the foxtrot, the mambo, the cha-cha and East Coast Swing. When she’d expressed her misgivings about missing ballet he had paid extra for her to have the studio for her exclusive personal use during the early afternoons before formal classes began.
River gave profuse thanks for the exquisite burn in her calves and quadriceps as she wriggled her toes in the hot water. Much as she enjoyed the mentality of ballet - always being present to the lines she was making with her limbs and expressions she was communicating through her eyes - the best part of the dance form was the rigorous physical discipline that drained her of any and all disturbing ideation. She hadn’t had a “vision” for at least 72 hours, a new record by her estimation, and as far as she was concerned, that was cause for celebration.
Perhaps she’d have an extra helping of dessert tonight to celebrate, but only so long as it didn’t make her feel like a sluggish toad.
The sun was starting to sink into the sky and River saw the slanting rays strike the windowed front of Mr. and Mrs. Cobb’s store as she dried her feet and donned her clothing. They ran a shop on the corner of Main and Elm, kitty-corner to Alleyne’s Garage, where they sold all manner of firearms to the inhabitants of Shadow. According to Dinah, people came from as far as Alasquë and Florda to debate the merits of Glokkers vs. Beiredhas with the very knowledgeable Mr. Cobb.
River had never shot a gun in her life, but she considered what Mrs. Cobb’s maddening young man would say if she pulled a piece on him the next time he tried to intimidate her. Her normal coping mechanism of ignoring the problem and hoping it would go away did not work with that boy and she was becoming hard-pressed to find a way to deal with him.
How Simon would love this, she thought wryly as she slipped on her sandals, me being stuck in a tiny little town and constantly having to run into someone I can’t stand.
There were twenty-six steps from the dance studio to the street level and she felt every single one as she descended, wincing each time the sole of her shoe came into contact with the surface of a new step. She would probably be waddling around for a good week if she didn’t get her hands on some form of pain reliever tonight. And in addition to foraging among the medicine cabinet for analgesic medication, River had a new set of flavors to add to her repertoire this evening - Uncle Mal was making something mysteriously entitled “meatloaf” and she wondered what kind of foreign condiment would be finding its way onto her plate before the evening was through.
River fished the key from her pocket as she came to the bottom of the stairs and turned to lock the door, wondering if she should duck inside of Hammond’s for some circus peanuts for her aunt before she and Kaylee went home -
He came at her out of nowhere.
“Whoa-what-hey!” was the only word of warning she had before she was knocked off of her feet by a familiar redheaded boy running full-tilt down the street.
“Sorry!” he said, trying to scramble to his feet from his half-sprawled position on her.
Thrill - running - scared - don’t get caught!
River’s hand shot out and grabbed his ankle as her vision blacked out and resolved into a Wash-eye view of Hammond’s Confectionery’s in the previous minutes, from his careful assessment of the staff to the covert acquisition of at least half a pound of green apple jelly beans in a carefully-timed maneuver that would have impressed River with his ingenuity but for her respect for her boss.
“Let me go, lady!” the boy shouted, trying to wrench his foot from her clutches and keep both hands clenched around his bag of stolen candy.
“You didn’t pay for those!” she said, gritting her teeth as she worked to maintain her grasp on his leg. “Either you’re going to pay or I’m going to…” - she groped for the correct warning and got lucky as she hurriedly probed the section of his psyche titled “parental units” - “tell your mother.”
He froze instantly, all of the fight draining out of him in as her words sunk in.
River scrambled to her feet, grabbed the back of his shirt and glared down at him. “That will be eight bits, young man.”
“I ain’t g-got eight b-b-bits,” Wash said, trying to be gutsy in the face of the stern Snow Queen who had him by the collar.
“Then we will go to your mother for compensation,” River replied grimly.
“Noooo!” Wash wailed, struggling against her hold. “Momma will ground me fer sure!”
Definitely not the soldier his comrade is, she determined as she strained to search his mind for the location of the woman’s place of employment. It was difficult because of the mental and physical exhaustion she was feeling from her grueling practice and the hot sunlight that continued to assault her. Her control slipped and threw her off-course, but she found something else along the way - hazy at best, but River felt a thrill run through her as she caught a wisp of what he meant by “grounding”.
“She’ll keep you from playing outside?” she asked warily.
“Uh-huh,” he nodded, big fat teardrops threatening to slide out of the corners of his eyes. “No more bein’ a Browncoat! I’ll have to spend the whole day in the library!”
River considered the bag of jelly beans, the boy who was shaking like a leaf on the wind in her grasp, and the relatively straightforward plan that was rapidly taking shape in her mind.
“How would you like to have a Core citizen secretly contributing to the cause of the Independents?” she asked solemnly.
Prompted by and dedicated to romanceguru.
Enjoy!
Much affection,
Green Owl
P.S. Here's an image of one of the walls of Hammond's Confectionery.
