Fic: Down this Chain of Days, Chapter 2 (Firefly, River/Mal, PG-13)
Title: Down this Chain of Days: II. Wickedness and Sin
Rating: PG-13
Words: 1980
Pairing: River/Mal
Summary: For Mal and River, 'happily ever after' takes some work - especially when people from their past keep turning up.
Notes: Chapter title and cut text from Siren Song, by Bat For Lashes.
II. Wickedness and Sin
The best part of five years pass between them as River sits opposite her father, though for her those years have held much more of worst.
“River,” he says, hands wrapped tight around a glass. “My God, is it really you?”
This is a foolish question - the years have not changed her that much - but she opens her mouth to respond anyhow, before he cuts her off. “Is your brother with you? Do you know where Simon is?”
The urgency in his voice breaks her from her daze, snaps her in the face with the recollection of all she's gathered from Simon's mind on Serenity. The way their parents had ignored, had been willfully blind to her coded pleas, the way they had let fear rule them. But she remembers times before as well, remembers her father's loving pride in his children as people, not accomplishments, remembers her beautiful mother deigning to dance with a giggling little girl in their empty ballroom. So she gathers and focuses herself, setting tasks of discover, locate, and decide to calm her mind, and answers him.
“I know. He's safe, and well. Happy, if that matters.”
He seems about to reach out to her, folds his hands together instead. “River, you must tell me where he is. I need to see him.”
“Why?” Such a simple question, with so much riding on whether the answers in mind and speech agree.
“Why? Because he's my son. Because I've been searching for him - for both of you - for a long time now. River,” he says, finally reaching out to her, “I want to take you back home. It's safe now.”
“Safe?” she says, drawing her hand back. “You don't know safe. Didn't want to make me safe before.”
She is surprised, somehow, to feel a current of pain and shame running through his mind. “That was - it was a very complicated situation. We did what we thought was for the best,” he says.
“What was best for you. You abandoned Simon. Thought of me with fear.” She looks at him, her eyes narrowing. “Still do. Did someone tell you what they made me?”
He looks at her arms, bare and exposed to the light, at the battle scars that mark her as used, damaged, dangerous. “That's not the worst of it,” she says, voice quiet now. “Cut in my brain. Invaded my head, put things there that didn't belong. Forced me open to see.” She tilts her head to the side, voice growing fainter so that he has to lean closer to hear. “Could always see some things, though. You always had plans for Simon. A position for him all picked out. Never gave thought to my future.” She frowns, catching against the unvoiced response in his thoughts. “I'm not unnatural. Product of my environment.”
He jerks back as though she's struck him, shaking his head. “River, this...none of this is your fault, I know that. You can't help what's happened to you. But you can't stay out here on the fringes of the 'verse, dear. It isn't safe for you. It isn't how you should be living. We can help you, your mother and I. You and Simon can come home with us, we can be...”
“Be a family again?” she finishes for him, tears gathering in her eyes at the absurdity of it all. “Maybe we have another family now.” Even as she says it, she remembers Mal, reaches for his presence in the back room.
Her father sighs. “We are your family, River. You can't deny that. And we can care for you far better than anyone you might have found out here. This is a burden that shouldn't be placed on others. Now, please, will you take me to your brother?”
The ordered files of his mind are complex; there's no malice here, no matter how it hurts to be referred to as a burden, no betrayal in him, or she would have fled from the start. But there is fear, uncertainty held back by pride. He wants Simon back because he is Simon; he wants her back to assuage guilt. To be a mere penance is a void that stares River in the face, stripping the color from her thoughts.
It's the tiny bit of her clinging to the edges of Mal that brings her back, warns her that her Captain is on his way out. Making an explanation of either of these men to the other is nothing she wants right now, and her tongue will say anything to be free of her father. “I'll bring Simon. Maybe. If the cycles of the clock permit it.”
He is nowhere near satisfied with this, she knows, but she slips from the table, makes herself lost among the crowd, and surfaces outside the door before he can do more than realize she's gone.
She hasn't escaped Mal's notice though, feels his hand on her shoulder. “You alright, River?” he asks, studying her face.
“Too much,” she says. “Too many memories. Can't hold them all, need to go back.”
He's confused, she knows, but his trust in her has only grown more unwavering over time, and he simply nods, guides her back to Serenity without comment.
***
The numb nothingness has worn off, back on the ship.
Burdened with her new secret, River wanted only to be lost in her bunk, to let herself drift. To have time to work every possibility to an ending, to choose what to tell Simon.
But the ship had been holding her breath when River stepped on board, a hush of expectation that had pulled her, stumbling, from Mal's arm, led her almost unwillingly to the engine room. She had known Kaylee's secret as soon as she laid eyes on her, but allowed it to be told in words anyhow, allowed Kaylee the pleasure of sharing. And while River had been happy, had smiled with honesty and hugged with joy, the news has only added a twist to her burden.
Now the comfort of her own bunk is not enough, its solitude stifling, even with the heavy layer of Mal that lies over the room. Mal himself has left the ship once more, and she craves the comfort of him, his steady resilience.
The ship speaks to her then, a memory of a memory sliding into the silence.
When you can't run anymore, you crawl, and when you can't crawl, well...
She knows the rest, and flees the solitude of her bunk to take refuge in Mal's, waiting on his ability to carry her.
While not forbidden to her, his bunk is an unfamiliar place still, a space that is his and his alone. Their relationship began in her bunk, and in those early days she had been shy of it still, unsure of the rules; she had waited for him to come to her, until it became routine, until her bunk was as much theirs as hers.
He still spends time here, though, still sleeps here on nights when their companionship is not mutually desired, or their watch schedules conflict.
She nests herself gratefully in a bed that smells completely of him, and wills her mind to focus, to puzzle. But try as she might, there's a fog of panic wrapped around her, her father's thoughts filling her head. Burden. Unnatural. The look in his eyes, of love mingled with fear, floods her mind with terror. It is a look she remembers from earlier days on Serenity, from Kaylee and Simon. From Wash, and Inara, Book and even her beloved Mal. It's a look she'd thought banished to the past, never wants cause to remember. But now that it's been forced to the surface, it consumes her mind, threatening the happiness she's built with Mal. Shows her all the flaws and cracks, just how fragile the trust that they are founded on could be.
The sound of the door opening is a blessing. While her feelings can never be pushed back, she's found they can be overwhelmed, buried in the right stimulus, and she's on Mal almost before he can get the door shut, pushing him up against the wall in her urgency to kiss him, to slide her hands under his clothing.
“Woah there, darlin',” he says, holding her off with a laugh. “You miss me that much?”
“Yes,” she says breathlessly, reaching for him again, willing him to respond as she'd like.
But love has not made Mal any less stubborn, and he leans out of her reach, studying her face. “Ain't been gone but a few hours. And as I recall, somethin' had you worked up even 'fore that. You wanna tell me what that was now?”
“No,” she says simply, managing to slide from his grasp, kiss him again. “Please, Mal,” she whispers against his mouth, as he pulls away once more.
“You don't care to tell me, that's fine,” he says, sitting on the bed and folding his arms. “But you ain't gonna use me to get it out of your head.”
River sighs. He's come to know her too well, knows the way she seeks him out in the night when dreams plague her, the way she buries her thoughts between their bodies. Still, even the challenge of this is distraction enough, a game she knows they both love to play. And as he's the one who taught her about seduction, she knows all the right moves.
“Mal,” she says, letting her voice slide low like smoke in her throat. “Need you inside me. Need you in my head.” Resting her hand on his knee, she stares into his eyes, lowering herself slowly to kneel between his feet.
She hears his breath catch as she slides her hands up along his thighs, knows as her hands go to work that she's already won, that for a while at least, he'll be willing to help keep her mind at bay.
***
Today, for River, it is not so much afterglow as aftermath, as the warm, throbbing tide slides from her brain, leaving panic to curl up once more. Mal is watching her, his eyes sharp and focused, not dimmed at all by their bout of activity. His surveillance, loving as it is, only makes her panic grow, chokes her with the fear of losing it.
She picks up his hand, threading her fingers through his to give her eyes something to focus on as she struggles to speak. “Wouldn't use my edges on you. Trust you to keep me blunt.”
He raises an eyebrow at her. “Edges ain't all you got to use on me, clearly. Won't say it's not pleasurable, but don't aim to be makin' that a habit with me, albatross. You got things in your head troubling you, you talk about them, dong ma?”
She knows what she has to say will not please him, but fear holds her in its grasp, the desire to let him be unburdened overriding logic. Still, she tries to soften him, raising his hand to her lips before saying, “You're my lodestone. Won't let me stray. But I can't put everything on you all the time.”
“River,” he says, the seriousness in his voice stopping her as she slips from the bed, making her look back at him, “you know there's nothing you couldn't share with me, right?”
She looks back at him, words unsaid hanging between them. “We don't share everything, Mal,” she says softly, pulling on her clothes and turning her back on him, scrambling up a ladder she can hardly see for tears in her eyes.
Chapter 1 - Master Post - Chapter 3
Rating: PG-13
Words: 1980
Pairing: River/Mal
Summary: For Mal and River, 'happily ever after' takes some work - especially when people from their past keep turning up.
Notes: Chapter title and cut text from Siren Song, by Bat For Lashes.
II. Wickedness and Sin
The best part of five years pass between them as River sits opposite her father, though for her those years have held much more of worst.
“River,” he says, hands wrapped tight around a glass. “My God, is it really you?”
This is a foolish question - the years have not changed her that much - but she opens her mouth to respond anyhow, before he cuts her off. “Is your brother with you? Do you know where Simon is?”
The urgency in his voice breaks her from her daze, snaps her in the face with the recollection of all she's gathered from Simon's mind on Serenity. The way their parents had ignored, had been willfully blind to her coded pleas, the way they had let fear rule them. But she remembers times before as well, remembers her father's loving pride in his children as people, not accomplishments, remembers her beautiful mother deigning to dance with a giggling little girl in their empty ballroom. So she gathers and focuses herself, setting tasks of discover, locate, and decide to calm her mind, and answers him.
“I know. He's safe, and well. Happy, if that matters.”
He seems about to reach out to her, folds his hands together instead. “River, you must tell me where he is. I need to see him.”
“Why?” Such a simple question, with so much riding on whether the answers in mind and speech agree.
“Why? Because he's my son. Because I've been searching for him - for both of you - for a long time now. River,” he says, finally reaching out to her, “I want to take you back home. It's safe now.”
“Safe?” she says, drawing her hand back. “You don't know safe. Didn't want to make me safe before.”
She is surprised, somehow, to feel a current of pain and shame running through his mind. “That was - it was a very complicated situation. We did what we thought was for the best,” he says.
“What was best for you. You abandoned Simon. Thought of me with fear.” She looks at him, her eyes narrowing. “Still do. Did someone tell you what they made me?”
He looks at her arms, bare and exposed to the light, at the battle scars that mark her as used, damaged, dangerous. “That's not the worst of it,” she says, voice quiet now. “Cut in my brain. Invaded my head, put things there that didn't belong. Forced me open to see.” She tilts her head to the side, voice growing fainter so that he has to lean closer to hear. “Could always see some things, though. You always had plans for Simon. A position for him all picked out. Never gave thought to my future.” She frowns, catching against the unvoiced response in his thoughts. “I'm not unnatural. Product of my environment.”
He jerks back as though she's struck him, shaking his head. “River, this...none of this is your fault, I know that. You can't help what's happened to you. But you can't stay out here on the fringes of the 'verse, dear. It isn't safe for you. It isn't how you should be living. We can help you, your mother and I. You and Simon can come home with us, we can be...”
“Be a family again?” she finishes for him, tears gathering in her eyes at the absurdity of it all. “Maybe we have another family now.” Even as she says it, she remembers Mal, reaches for his presence in the back room.
Her father sighs. “We are your family, River. You can't deny that. And we can care for you far better than anyone you might have found out here. This is a burden that shouldn't be placed on others. Now, please, will you take me to your brother?”
The ordered files of his mind are complex; there's no malice here, no matter how it hurts to be referred to as a burden, no betrayal in him, or she would have fled from the start. But there is fear, uncertainty held back by pride. He wants Simon back because he is Simon; he wants her back to assuage guilt. To be a mere penance is a void that stares River in the face, stripping the color from her thoughts.
It's the tiny bit of her clinging to the edges of Mal that brings her back, warns her that her Captain is on his way out. Making an explanation of either of these men to the other is nothing she wants right now, and her tongue will say anything to be free of her father. “I'll bring Simon. Maybe. If the cycles of the clock permit it.”
He is nowhere near satisfied with this, she knows, but she slips from the table, makes herself lost among the crowd, and surfaces outside the door before he can do more than realize she's gone.
She hasn't escaped Mal's notice though, feels his hand on her shoulder. “You alright, River?” he asks, studying her face.
“Too much,” she says. “Too many memories. Can't hold them all, need to go back.”
He's confused, she knows, but his trust in her has only grown more unwavering over time, and he simply nods, guides her back to Serenity without comment.
***
The numb nothingness has worn off, back on the ship.
Burdened with her new secret, River wanted only to be lost in her bunk, to let herself drift. To have time to work every possibility to an ending, to choose what to tell Simon.
But the ship had been holding her breath when River stepped on board, a hush of expectation that had pulled her, stumbling, from Mal's arm, led her almost unwillingly to the engine room. She had known Kaylee's secret as soon as she laid eyes on her, but allowed it to be told in words anyhow, allowed Kaylee the pleasure of sharing. And while River had been happy, had smiled with honesty and hugged with joy, the news has only added a twist to her burden.
Now the comfort of her own bunk is not enough, its solitude stifling, even with the heavy layer of Mal that lies over the room. Mal himself has left the ship once more, and she craves the comfort of him, his steady resilience.
The ship speaks to her then, a memory of a memory sliding into the silence.
When you can't run anymore, you crawl, and when you can't crawl, well...
She knows the rest, and flees the solitude of her bunk to take refuge in Mal's, waiting on his ability to carry her.
While not forbidden to her, his bunk is an unfamiliar place still, a space that is his and his alone. Their relationship began in her bunk, and in those early days she had been shy of it still, unsure of the rules; she had waited for him to come to her, until it became routine, until her bunk was as much theirs as hers.
He still spends time here, though, still sleeps here on nights when their companionship is not mutually desired, or their watch schedules conflict.
She nests herself gratefully in a bed that smells completely of him, and wills her mind to focus, to puzzle. But try as she might, there's a fog of panic wrapped around her, her father's thoughts filling her head. Burden. Unnatural. The look in his eyes, of love mingled with fear, floods her mind with terror. It is a look she remembers from earlier days on Serenity, from Kaylee and Simon. From Wash, and Inara, Book and even her beloved Mal. It's a look she'd thought banished to the past, never wants cause to remember. But now that it's been forced to the surface, it consumes her mind, threatening the happiness she's built with Mal. Shows her all the flaws and cracks, just how fragile the trust that they are founded on could be.
The sound of the door opening is a blessing. While her feelings can never be pushed back, she's found they can be overwhelmed, buried in the right stimulus, and she's on Mal almost before he can get the door shut, pushing him up against the wall in her urgency to kiss him, to slide her hands under his clothing.
“Woah there, darlin',” he says, holding her off with a laugh. “You miss me that much?”
“Yes,” she says breathlessly, reaching for him again, willing him to respond as she'd like.
But love has not made Mal any less stubborn, and he leans out of her reach, studying her face. “Ain't been gone but a few hours. And as I recall, somethin' had you worked up even 'fore that. You wanna tell me what that was now?”
“No,” she says simply, managing to slide from his grasp, kiss him again. “Please, Mal,” she whispers against his mouth, as he pulls away once more.
“You don't care to tell me, that's fine,” he says, sitting on the bed and folding his arms. “But you ain't gonna use me to get it out of your head.”
River sighs. He's come to know her too well, knows the way she seeks him out in the night when dreams plague her, the way she buries her thoughts between their bodies. Still, even the challenge of this is distraction enough, a game she knows they both love to play. And as he's the one who taught her about seduction, she knows all the right moves.
“Mal,” she says, letting her voice slide low like smoke in her throat. “Need you inside me. Need you in my head.” Resting her hand on his knee, she stares into his eyes, lowering herself slowly to kneel between his feet.
She hears his breath catch as she slides her hands up along his thighs, knows as her hands go to work that she's already won, that for a while at least, he'll be willing to help keep her mind at bay.
***
Today, for River, it is not so much afterglow as aftermath, as the warm, throbbing tide slides from her brain, leaving panic to curl up once more. Mal is watching her, his eyes sharp and focused, not dimmed at all by their bout of activity. His surveillance, loving as it is, only makes her panic grow, chokes her with the fear of losing it.
She picks up his hand, threading her fingers through his to give her eyes something to focus on as she struggles to speak. “Wouldn't use my edges on you. Trust you to keep me blunt.”
He raises an eyebrow at her. “Edges ain't all you got to use on me, clearly. Won't say it's not pleasurable, but don't aim to be makin' that a habit with me, albatross. You got things in your head troubling you, you talk about them, dong ma?”
She knows what she has to say will not please him, but fear holds her in its grasp, the desire to let him be unburdened overriding logic. Still, she tries to soften him, raising his hand to her lips before saying, “You're my lodestone. Won't let me stray. But I can't put everything on you all the time.”
“River,” he says, the seriousness in his voice stopping her as she slips from the bed, making her look back at him, “you know there's nothing you couldn't share with me, right?”
She looks back at him, words unsaid hanging between them. “We don't share everything, Mal,” she says softly, pulling on her clothes and turning her back on him, scrambling up a ladder she can hardly see for tears in her eyes.
Chapter 1 - Master Post - Chapter 3