Fic: Hold You Down (FF, River/Jayne, G)
Title: Hold You Down
Author: syrenslure
Fandom/Pairing: Firefly/Serenity - River Tam / Jayne Cobb
Rating: G, Pre-Rayne, friendship
Spoilers: post-bdm/Serenity (by quite a while)
Disclaimer : This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by Mutant Enemy, Inc., Universal Pictures, and 20th Century Fox.. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Author's Note: Thanks to xfirefly9x for the firefly_15_fics community (This is for prompt#02 : Hold). For willow_reece for Possession by Sarah McLachlan. (729 words - 21 Aug 09)
The first time, she doesn't even think he realizes the way he has her cradled in his arms. He meant to grab a hold of her, to stop her from running into the midst of things, to keep her from making things worse, as Zoe tried to stem the flow of blood from her brother's arm.
She sees the truth of things on the surface of his mind. Give them time to work, space to move, to make things right. She knows he doesn't much like Simon, probably never will, "but that's not the same as wishin' him dead." He won't admit that he's afraid - afraid of not keeping them safe, afraid of losing another member of his crew-family. He's afraid for her (and of her, just a little bit), because "grief's a powerful thing that makes even the sanest man a mite crazy, and she's already a long ways from just a mite..."
She relaxes then, into Jayne's arms. Simon will be all right. She sees it now, following trajectories and probabilities in her mind. Her brother's voice is a comforting rumble in the background, as he guides Zoe's sure hands into stitching him up, and River allows her breath to sync with the big merc's until he dumps her on the couch, and mutters something about making himself useful as he runs away.
Kaylee looks at her darkly, in confusion, when River giggles.
Months later, they're out in the black, and she's reclining across the top of some large crates, her head hanging down. Her hair is flowing like water trying to reach the floor, and she can imagine her thoughts dripping away, drip, drip, drip down the inky blackness, and out of her mind in time to the rushing, rushing pounding of the River's blood against her temples. The tinkle, clink, clunk of metal across the bay, as Jayne lifts the weight of the world off his chest, is soothing too, and she must fall asleep to the lullaby of his harsh breaths and her hard pulse, because he's shaking her awake, pulling her down off of her mountain in the sky.
Her screams are frozen in her throat, held in by the rough palm of his hand across her lips. "Gorram it, girl. You trying to wake the whole dang ship? You should be in your bunk." Her eyes fix on him in a wide-eyed stare, as she finds the reality, and grounds herself in the solid bulk of the arms around her, the chest pressed against hers. She nods at the question in his eyes, and he moves his hand, roughly scrubbing the tears from her face, but he doesn't let her go for a good bit, just sits on the floor of the hold with her on his lap.
She wakes up in her own bed, the covers tucked in tight around her (but not too tight).
Jayne gets a letter from home, and he reads it proudly to the crew, sharing with those who have none, but his voice breaks in the middle of a sentence about Mattie, and no one knows how it ends, because he cuts off the narrative and retreats to his bunk. He doesn't come out for lunch or for dinner. The crew whispers quiet questions amongst themselves, but finally settles down into restless slumber.
She creeps along the stairways and byways of the stars, and into the den of the bear. He doesn't hibernate, just sits and waits with baited paws for a predator to creep too close, so that he can strike out. He roars and swings, but she ducks under his defenses, and pins him to his bunk, titling her head to the side, and staring into his eyes, until he collapses under his own weights, and she calmly lets go of his hands, and settles her head onto his chest.
She listens to the thump, thump of his heart, in her ear, and one of his hands comes up to slowly brush over her hair from nape to waist over and over again. It's comforting, and she sleeps, rising and falling with each of his even breaths, until he too succumbs.
She's gone before he wakes up, but a pattern has been set now. Repetition makes things true. Actions have been observed and reproduced; the theory has been proven true. Together they will hold.
Author: syrenslure
Fandom/Pairing: Firefly/Serenity - River Tam / Jayne Cobb
Rating: G, Pre-Rayne, friendship
Spoilers: post-bdm/Serenity (by quite a while)
Disclaimer : This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by Mutant Enemy, Inc., Universal Pictures, and 20th Century Fox.. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Author's Note: Thanks to xfirefly9x for the firefly_15_fics community (This is for prompt#02 : Hold). For willow_reece for Possession by Sarah McLachlan. (729 words - 21 Aug 09)
The first time, she doesn't even think he realizes the way he has her cradled in his arms. He meant to grab a hold of her, to stop her from running into the midst of things, to keep her from making things worse, as Zoe tried to stem the flow of blood from her brother's arm.
She sees the truth of things on the surface of his mind. Give them time to work, space to move, to make things right. She knows he doesn't much like Simon, probably never will, "but that's not the same as wishin' him dead." He won't admit that he's afraid - afraid of not keeping them safe, afraid of losing another member of his crew-family. He's afraid for her (and of her, just a little bit), because "grief's a powerful thing that makes even the sanest man a mite crazy, and she's already a long ways from just a mite..."
She relaxes then, into Jayne's arms. Simon will be all right. She sees it now, following trajectories and probabilities in her mind. Her brother's voice is a comforting rumble in the background, as he guides Zoe's sure hands into stitching him up, and River allows her breath to sync with the big merc's until he dumps her on the couch, and mutters something about making himself useful as he runs away.
Kaylee looks at her darkly, in confusion, when River giggles.
Months later, they're out in the black, and she's reclining across the top of some large crates, her head hanging down. Her hair is flowing like water trying to reach the floor, and she can imagine her thoughts dripping away, drip, drip, drip down the inky blackness, and out of her mind in time to the rushing, rushing pounding of the River's blood against her temples. The tinkle, clink, clunk of metal across the bay, as Jayne lifts the weight of the world off his chest, is soothing too, and she must fall asleep to the lullaby of his harsh breaths and her hard pulse, because he's shaking her awake, pulling her down off of her mountain in the sky.
Her screams are frozen in her throat, held in by the rough palm of his hand across her lips. "Gorram it, girl. You trying to wake the whole dang ship? You should be in your bunk." Her eyes fix on him in a wide-eyed stare, as she finds the reality, and grounds herself in the solid bulk of the arms around her, the chest pressed against hers. She nods at the question in his eyes, and he moves his hand, roughly scrubbing the tears from her face, but he doesn't let her go for a good bit, just sits on the floor of the hold with her on his lap.
She wakes up in her own bed, the covers tucked in tight around her (but not too tight).
Jayne gets a letter from home, and he reads it proudly to the crew, sharing with those who have none, but his voice breaks in the middle of a sentence about Mattie, and no one knows how it ends, because he cuts off the narrative and retreats to his bunk. He doesn't come out for lunch or for dinner. The crew whispers quiet questions amongst themselves, but finally settles down into restless slumber.
She creeps along the stairways and byways of the stars, and into the den of the bear. He doesn't hibernate, just sits and waits with baited paws for a predator to creep too close, so that he can strike out. He roars and swings, but she ducks under his defenses, and pins him to his bunk, titling her head to the side, and staring into his eyes, until he collapses under his own weights, and she calmly lets go of his hands, and settles her head onto his chest.
She listens to the thump, thump of his heart, in her ear, and one of his hands comes up to slowly brush over her hair from nape to waist over and over again. It's comforting, and she sleeps, rising and falling with each of his even breaths, until he too succumbs.
She's gone before he wakes up, but a pattern has been set now. Repetition makes things true. Actions have been observed and reproduced; the theory has been proven true. Together they will hold.