Firefly - Giselle (1/?)
Title: Giselle
Fandom: Firefly/Serenity
Disclaimer: I do not own.
Character/Pairings: Jayne/River
Rating: R
Warnings: Post BDM, Violence of the Blue Hands variety.
Notes: The prequel to Little Girl Lost, taking place three months after Miranda is exposed and three years before Gabriel Tam sets out to find River.
Summary: As the Alliance is ripped apart at the seams, they attempt to recapture their masterpiece. The story of how Jayne Cobb and River Tam left Serenity.
Chapter One
Three months after Miranda and River Tam is going to die at the age of eighteen years, five months, thirteen days, four hours, twenty-six minutes and one second. Two seconds. Three...
She wants to curl up into a ball and make herself a small enough target that she’ll be able to hide from their eyes and escape their blue hands. They’ve done something to her brain. Said the words to turn her off. She can’t lash out. She can’t fight the way she did against the Reavers. Her brain throbs against her skull and she just wants it to burst and for it all to be over.
But they won’t allow that to happen to their project - the only one that survived the transition from human to weapon. They need her back. Need to find out how she works, what makes her so different. They need answers so they can create more Reader weapons.
Simon won’t find her this time. Won’t even know where she’s gone. As it should be. She drew the Blue Hands as far away as she dared without arising suspicion, so Serenity would be spared. Simon will convince Mal to break into the Academy, but they’ll only find layers of dust and the screams of dead children. The Alliance knows that they’re falling apart and they can’t risk returning her to a place they know has weak defences.
“Good girl,” the first Blue Hand calls her as he kneels down before her and binds her wrists up with silver wire. “Such a good weapon,” he whispers as he ran a hand through her thick mane of brown knots.
River flinches as several strands cling to his glove from the static. She doesn’t want it to end like this with every part of her a prisoner. But she can’t fight.
River licks her lips and tries to fight their bonds, tries to crush their brains with her own, but she can’t. No control anymore. Not since the Academy took it away when they pricked her skull with needle upon needle, digging out her amygdala and carving their gorram control phrase onto her brain.
She just wants to scream, but even that is denied her.
The Blue Hands crush her thoughts, forcing the girl-weapon to abandon the girl. River hopes that the Captain will abandon his “leave no man behind” policy and run when he sees her face next.
The world is turning black and white.
She feels the second Blue Hand’s shock before he does.
The small sonic box slips from suddenly nerveless fingers to the dirt ground, where it’s ground to dust under the steel toe of a large boot. The Blue Hand turns his head as much as the Bowie knife in the side of his throat allows and stares into the eyes of Death’s Lover. Jayne doesn’t smile at his kill. Simply twists the knife 180 degrees and pulls it out.
Blood sprays the air and his face as the body slips to the ground, but Jayne doesn’t notice, his eyes on his next victim, his LeMat ready in hand.
The first Blue Hand, the one that touched her, the one that called her a good girl - he doesn’t get a chance to pull out either his gun or the second sonic device. Even as his partner’s mind hangs onto life, the bonds around River’s mind have loosened.
River absently notes that the Blue Hand is human after all, as only a human can feel that kind of fear. She kills him in the same way he dispatched anyone she ever came into contact with after her escape from the Academy. He tries to scream as his brain melts, dripping down his ears, nose, mouth, and eyes, but she silences his voice as he silenced hers.
It takes a matter of five seconds for him to die.
River is capable of mercy. Despite their efforts, the girl-weapon is still human. It is a large victory.
“So, you really can kill a man with yer brain.” Jayne re-announces his presence, stepping into her line of sight and kicking the body of her victim. He makes a face when the skull squishes like a rotten pumpkin. “Good to know.” He wipes his Bowie knife clean on the Blue Hand's suit and straps it back to his hip.
He crouches down beside her and with gentle hands, raises her to a sitting position. He takes up her bound wrists and frowns at the bright silver wire stained with her blood. “This’ll be tricky.” He eyes her. “I need ya to trust me on this an’ not move.”
His face is covered with the blood of a Blue Hand, River finds herself willing to give him anything, be it trust or sexual favours. Jayne doesn’t ask for that though. He simply unwinds the thin wire as carefully as possible. His fingertips quickly grow pink with her blood, but River makes no sound.
Finally, her arms are free. River moves to pull away but Jayne grabs her by the elbows. Her eyes fly up to his face.
“Sit,” he orders.
Satisfied she won’t move away, he rips off the sleeves of his t-shirt and binds the material around the grooves in her wrists.
“Right,” he says, standing up and offering his hand to her. “First, we git the blood off and then git you some gloves to cover those up. You don’t mention any of this to nobody, dong ma?”
River stares up at him, but Jayne doesn’t waver. She nods her head in agreement. She takes his hand and gasps in surprise when he lifts her easily to her feet. Jayne’s hands cup her shoulders as he gives her an once-over searching for any more injuries to camouflage. Finding none, he releases her.
“The bodies…” River swallows, trying to wet her dry throat. She hadn’t realized till now how hoarse her voice is. “Jayne?”
Jayne turns her away from the Blue Hands’ corpses and draws her through the labyrinth of alleyways that is Hecate’s main port.
“Thet’s the thing about Core folk. They never bother to properly scope a place out first.” He points his chin in the direction of some seedy looking men - mercenaries like Jayne and yet so unlike the big man at River’s side.
“Vultures.” River closes her eyes against the sight of their ragged black wings and naked claws.
As Jayne walks her past them at a sedate pace as if he were escorting her home after a morning church service, the vultures drift up the alleyway the man and girl had just come from.
“Questions don’t git asked here.” Jayne’s smile is grim.
He finds a horse trough and ducks his head completely under water. He comes back out a minute later, his hair plastered to his face and the blood gone from his face. Jayne shakes his head like a wolf and bares his teeth at her in a grin. He wipes away a speck of blood on her cheek and then pulls her around another corner and they're in the main street.
The gloves Jayne buys her are made of red wool. They go up to her elbow and are fingerless because in Jayne’s opinion gloves with fingers are worse than useless. She needs to be able to feel Serenity’s controls under her hands without a barrier getting in the way. River is a bit surprised that Jayne thought of this, but he always has noticed more than he’s ever let on - like the presence of two Alliance agents being led away by a slip of a girl. She should know better.
Jayne takes her to The Crossroads, the main tavern. When too many patrons glance her way and eye her long legs peeking out from under her dress, Jayne casually drapes his arm around her shoulders, drawing her into his side. The skin contact helps block out the many voices and before she can stop herself, she grabs the hand that’s dangling off her left shoulder.
River feels a jolt of surprise from Jayne, but there’s no outward sign of this emotion. He worries that she now sees him as some sort of hero for saving her. Just what he needs, he thinks, some moonbrain girl mooning over him.
“The voices,” she blurts out before he can pull his hand away.
Jayne blinks, and then knits his fingers between hers. His mind quiets down to a soft hum as he draws her to a wooden table in the corner. He orders her a glass of cider and a beer for himself.
He stretches out in his chair, his eyes scanning the room. Because she’s still holding his hand (although under the table because Jayne doesn’t want any of the whores getting the wrong idea) River has an easier time than usual reading him. He casually counts the weapons on each person and names them all, as well as how many bullets each firearm carries.
Their drinks arrive on the arm of a blonde waitress with a large bosom and Jayne immediately releases River’s hand so that he can properly leer at the whore. River gasps as the voices assault her sore brain. Her hands fly up to cup her forehead.
“Go se.” Jayne swears, completely forgetting about the whore, who’s already backed away with a sneer directed toward River. He puts his hand on River’s naked thigh and the voices recede. “Stop lookin’ so weird.” He proceeds to grumble how he’ll never be able to show his face here ever again.
“I can’t help it,” River snarls, and kicks his shin as punishment for a lack of sympathy. She feels slightly better when he winces in pain.
“Learn how, Moonbrain,” the Mercenary growls, his eyes sparking dangerously. He tries to remove his hand from her thigh, but she grabs it before his fingers lose full contact with her flesh and presses it back. She places her own hand over top to make sure he stays put. Jayne rolls his eyes at her and takes a swing of his beer.
“I can’t,” she repeats because he’s just not getting it.
“An’ you won’t with that attitude.”
Tears of frustration sting the corners of her eyes and it’s only through great strength of will that she doesn’t start crying in front of him. River takes a sip of her cider to collect herself, but that just reminds her of the whole unfairness of the situation.
“I used to know how,” she mutters bitterly into the glass.
“What’s that?”
Curse the man and his infernal hearing!
Jayne sighs as if he’s about to make a big sacrifice. “Look. I’m a big, mean hun dun and I didn’t mean to yell at you after,” he waves his hand. “That.” His mind flashes briefly on the Blue Hands and the way the one’s skull caved in on itself.
She waits.
He doesn’t say anything.
“This is the part where you apologize for being so unfeeling to the damsel in distress,” she says in the spirit of helpfulness.
Jayne smirks, takes another sip of his beer and squeezes her thigh. “Don’t push yer luck.”
River giggles. Jayne’s face softens and his smirk becomes one of his rare smiles.
River helps herself to more of her cider and basks in the feeling of being the center of Jayne’s thoughts as he picks apart what she just hinted at. Unlike before Miranda when she was the center of everyone’s mind and their thoughts jabbed at her, this feels more like a caress as this time she’s not perceived as a threat. Jayne shifts through his memories of her, idly wondering if she’d only had control of her Reader abilities when she was even more of a moonbrain than she is now.
River jabs him in the ribs for that.
Jayne grunts. Glares at her.
River angelically smiles and turns her attention to the rest of the room. She squeaks as Jayne pinches her thigh. She spins around to glare at him.
Jayne has a pleasant smile painted on his face. “Something wrong, darlin’?”
Her cheeks heat up for no reason whatsoever and River decides that the topic needs to be changed now.
“My mother.”
Jayne frowns.
Suddenly, this doesn’t seem like such a good idea. River looks down at her glass, his hair falling in a curtain around her face. Her lip trembles and now she really is going to cry. She hasn’t thought of Mother in so long and the Blue Hands have made it impossible for River to ever see her again. She wishes now that she hadn’t been so humane when she killed the one with her brain.
“Hey,” Jayne pulls her chair closer to his. River bumps up against his side.
“Sorry,” she mumbles.
“What fer?”
River shakes her head. “She taught me.”
Beside her, Jayne freezes before reaching up to rub the back of her neck. His hand is warm against her hot skin, but it’s still a welcome relief. “Taught ya what?”
River swallows back the sob in her throat. She looks up into surprisingly sympathetic eyes. “Taught me how to Read.” She touches the center of Jayne’s forehead. “Mother loved teaching me all she knew and discovering new ways,” she says dreamily, tracing his face. “We had tea parties in our dreams. We’d dress up like princesses and Mother would let me pour the tea and we’d eat as many sugar cookies as we wanted. Mother taught me how to block out thoughts and how to pry open locked doors. How to see the many possible paths a man could walk down.”
Jayne flinches.
River knows then that she’s said too much. She lets her hands fall to her lap and stares back down into the welcoming gold liquid that is her cider. “Cannot access those abilities anymore. They took it away with their needles.” She pauses. “Don’t tell Simon.”
“Keepin’ secrets from the Doc? I’m in.” Jayne’s hand returns to her neck, rubbing circles with his callused thumb. “Ya know Vera?” He then scoffs. “Course ya know Vera - Killed six guys to git her. Named ‘er after some fool girl who wanted ta marry me.”
River’s head shoots up, her eyes wide.
“Ya don’t need to look surprised,” Jayne snaps. “I’m marriage material.”
“Of course,” she fights to keep her voice neutral but snorts at the end. She slaps a hand over her mouth, horrified.
Jayne rolls his eyes. “See if I ever try ta make you feel better ever again.” He smiles though and she can feel the amusement on the edge of his mind. It tickles.
“So...” Jayne leans in. He pulls back a strand of her hair and whispers in her ear. “Any particularly interestin’ thoughts in this place?” He thinks of money and fights and easy marks.
River smacks him in the chest. “That is an exploitation of my abilities. And very wrong.”
Jayne pushes his chair back and gets up. “What’s the use of havin’ a Reader around if I don’t exploit ya?”
Jayne offers her his hand again and laughs when she springs up from her chair to grab it. He leads her out, lets her lean into his side but draws the line when she tries to swing their hands.
“I’m gonna pretend that you’re extremely drunk an' not pound ya to the ground.” Jayne stares down at her. “You ain’t drunk, are ya?”
River giggles. “I can see your brain.”
“Aw hell.”
“It’s very nice,” River hastens to assure him.
“It is not!”
Fandom: Firefly/Serenity
Disclaimer: I do not own.
Character/Pairings: Jayne/River
Rating: R
Warnings: Post BDM, Violence of the Blue Hands variety.
Notes: The prequel to Little Girl Lost, taking place three months after Miranda is exposed and three years before Gabriel Tam sets out to find River.
Summary: As the Alliance is ripped apart at the seams, they attempt to recapture their masterpiece. The story of how Jayne Cobb and River Tam left Serenity.
Chapter One
Three months after Miranda and River Tam is going to die at the age of eighteen years, five months, thirteen days, four hours, twenty-six minutes and one second. Two seconds. Three...
She wants to curl up into a ball and make herself a small enough target that she’ll be able to hide from their eyes and escape their blue hands. They’ve done something to her brain. Said the words to turn her off. She can’t lash out. She can’t fight the way she did against the Reavers. Her brain throbs against her skull and she just wants it to burst and for it all to be over.
But they won’t allow that to happen to their project - the only one that survived the transition from human to weapon. They need her back. Need to find out how she works, what makes her so different. They need answers so they can create more Reader weapons.
Simon won’t find her this time. Won’t even know where she’s gone. As it should be. She drew the Blue Hands as far away as she dared without arising suspicion, so Serenity would be spared. Simon will convince Mal to break into the Academy, but they’ll only find layers of dust and the screams of dead children. The Alliance knows that they’re falling apart and they can’t risk returning her to a place they know has weak defences.
“Good girl,” the first Blue Hand calls her as he kneels down before her and binds her wrists up with silver wire. “Such a good weapon,” he whispers as he ran a hand through her thick mane of brown knots.
River flinches as several strands cling to his glove from the static. She doesn’t want it to end like this with every part of her a prisoner. But she can’t fight.
River licks her lips and tries to fight their bonds, tries to crush their brains with her own, but she can’t. No control anymore. Not since the Academy took it away when they pricked her skull with needle upon needle, digging out her amygdala and carving their gorram control phrase onto her brain.
She just wants to scream, but even that is denied her.
The Blue Hands crush her thoughts, forcing the girl-weapon to abandon the girl. River hopes that the Captain will abandon his “leave no man behind” policy and run when he sees her face next.
The world is turning black and white.
She feels the second Blue Hand’s shock before he does.
The small sonic box slips from suddenly nerveless fingers to the dirt ground, where it’s ground to dust under the steel toe of a large boot. The Blue Hand turns his head as much as the Bowie knife in the side of his throat allows and stares into the eyes of Death’s Lover. Jayne doesn’t smile at his kill. Simply twists the knife 180 degrees and pulls it out.
Blood sprays the air and his face as the body slips to the ground, but Jayne doesn’t notice, his eyes on his next victim, his LeMat ready in hand.
The first Blue Hand, the one that touched her, the one that called her a good girl - he doesn’t get a chance to pull out either his gun or the second sonic device. Even as his partner’s mind hangs onto life, the bonds around River’s mind have loosened.
River absently notes that the Blue Hand is human after all, as only a human can feel that kind of fear. She kills him in the same way he dispatched anyone she ever came into contact with after her escape from the Academy. He tries to scream as his brain melts, dripping down his ears, nose, mouth, and eyes, but she silences his voice as he silenced hers.
It takes a matter of five seconds for him to die.
River is capable of mercy. Despite their efforts, the girl-weapon is still human. It is a large victory.
“So, you really can kill a man with yer brain.” Jayne re-announces his presence, stepping into her line of sight and kicking the body of her victim. He makes a face when the skull squishes like a rotten pumpkin. “Good to know.” He wipes his Bowie knife clean on the Blue Hand's suit and straps it back to his hip.
He crouches down beside her and with gentle hands, raises her to a sitting position. He takes up her bound wrists and frowns at the bright silver wire stained with her blood. “This’ll be tricky.” He eyes her. “I need ya to trust me on this an’ not move.”
His face is covered with the blood of a Blue Hand, River finds herself willing to give him anything, be it trust or sexual favours. Jayne doesn’t ask for that though. He simply unwinds the thin wire as carefully as possible. His fingertips quickly grow pink with her blood, but River makes no sound.
Finally, her arms are free. River moves to pull away but Jayne grabs her by the elbows. Her eyes fly up to his face.
“Sit,” he orders.
Satisfied she won’t move away, he rips off the sleeves of his t-shirt and binds the material around the grooves in her wrists.
“Right,” he says, standing up and offering his hand to her. “First, we git the blood off and then git you some gloves to cover those up. You don’t mention any of this to nobody, dong ma?”
River stares up at him, but Jayne doesn’t waver. She nods her head in agreement. She takes his hand and gasps in surprise when he lifts her easily to her feet. Jayne’s hands cup her shoulders as he gives her an once-over searching for any more injuries to camouflage. Finding none, he releases her.
“The bodies…” River swallows, trying to wet her dry throat. She hadn’t realized till now how hoarse her voice is. “Jayne?”
Jayne turns her away from the Blue Hands’ corpses and draws her through the labyrinth of alleyways that is Hecate’s main port.
“Thet’s the thing about Core folk. They never bother to properly scope a place out first.” He points his chin in the direction of some seedy looking men - mercenaries like Jayne and yet so unlike the big man at River’s side.
“Vultures.” River closes her eyes against the sight of their ragged black wings and naked claws.
As Jayne walks her past them at a sedate pace as if he were escorting her home after a morning church service, the vultures drift up the alleyway the man and girl had just come from.
“Questions don’t git asked here.” Jayne’s smile is grim.
He finds a horse trough and ducks his head completely under water. He comes back out a minute later, his hair plastered to his face and the blood gone from his face. Jayne shakes his head like a wolf and bares his teeth at her in a grin. He wipes away a speck of blood on her cheek and then pulls her around another corner and they're in the main street.
The gloves Jayne buys her are made of red wool. They go up to her elbow and are fingerless because in Jayne’s opinion gloves with fingers are worse than useless. She needs to be able to feel Serenity’s controls under her hands without a barrier getting in the way. River is a bit surprised that Jayne thought of this, but he always has noticed more than he’s ever let on - like the presence of two Alliance agents being led away by a slip of a girl. She should know better.
Jayne takes her to The Crossroads, the main tavern. When too many patrons glance her way and eye her long legs peeking out from under her dress, Jayne casually drapes his arm around her shoulders, drawing her into his side. The skin contact helps block out the many voices and before she can stop herself, she grabs the hand that’s dangling off her left shoulder.
River feels a jolt of surprise from Jayne, but there’s no outward sign of this emotion. He worries that she now sees him as some sort of hero for saving her. Just what he needs, he thinks, some moonbrain girl mooning over him.
“The voices,” she blurts out before he can pull his hand away.
Jayne blinks, and then knits his fingers between hers. His mind quiets down to a soft hum as he draws her to a wooden table in the corner. He orders her a glass of cider and a beer for himself.
He stretches out in his chair, his eyes scanning the room. Because she’s still holding his hand (although under the table because Jayne doesn’t want any of the whores getting the wrong idea) River has an easier time than usual reading him. He casually counts the weapons on each person and names them all, as well as how many bullets each firearm carries.
Their drinks arrive on the arm of a blonde waitress with a large bosom and Jayne immediately releases River’s hand so that he can properly leer at the whore. River gasps as the voices assault her sore brain. Her hands fly up to cup her forehead.
“Go se.” Jayne swears, completely forgetting about the whore, who’s already backed away with a sneer directed toward River. He puts his hand on River’s naked thigh and the voices recede. “Stop lookin’ so weird.” He proceeds to grumble how he’ll never be able to show his face here ever again.
“I can’t help it,” River snarls, and kicks his shin as punishment for a lack of sympathy. She feels slightly better when he winces in pain.
“Learn how, Moonbrain,” the Mercenary growls, his eyes sparking dangerously. He tries to remove his hand from her thigh, but she grabs it before his fingers lose full contact with her flesh and presses it back. She places her own hand over top to make sure he stays put. Jayne rolls his eyes at her and takes a swing of his beer.
“I can’t,” she repeats because he’s just not getting it.
“An’ you won’t with that attitude.”
Tears of frustration sting the corners of her eyes and it’s only through great strength of will that she doesn’t start crying in front of him. River takes a sip of her cider to collect herself, but that just reminds her of the whole unfairness of the situation.
“I used to know how,” she mutters bitterly into the glass.
“What’s that?”
Curse the man and his infernal hearing!
Jayne sighs as if he’s about to make a big sacrifice. “Look. I’m a big, mean hun dun and I didn’t mean to yell at you after,” he waves his hand. “That.” His mind flashes briefly on the Blue Hands and the way the one’s skull caved in on itself.
She waits.
He doesn’t say anything.
“This is the part where you apologize for being so unfeeling to the damsel in distress,” she says in the spirit of helpfulness.
Jayne smirks, takes another sip of his beer and squeezes her thigh. “Don’t push yer luck.”
River giggles. Jayne’s face softens and his smirk becomes one of his rare smiles.
River helps herself to more of her cider and basks in the feeling of being the center of Jayne’s thoughts as he picks apart what she just hinted at. Unlike before Miranda when she was the center of everyone’s mind and their thoughts jabbed at her, this feels more like a caress as this time she’s not perceived as a threat. Jayne shifts through his memories of her, idly wondering if she’d only had control of her Reader abilities when she was even more of a moonbrain than she is now.
River jabs him in the ribs for that.
Jayne grunts. Glares at her.
River angelically smiles and turns her attention to the rest of the room. She squeaks as Jayne pinches her thigh. She spins around to glare at him.
Jayne has a pleasant smile painted on his face. “Something wrong, darlin’?”
Her cheeks heat up for no reason whatsoever and River decides that the topic needs to be changed now.
“My mother.”
Jayne frowns.
Suddenly, this doesn’t seem like such a good idea. River looks down at her glass, his hair falling in a curtain around her face. Her lip trembles and now she really is going to cry. She hasn’t thought of Mother in so long and the Blue Hands have made it impossible for River to ever see her again. She wishes now that she hadn’t been so humane when she killed the one with her brain.
“Hey,” Jayne pulls her chair closer to his. River bumps up against his side.
“Sorry,” she mumbles.
“What fer?”
River shakes her head. “She taught me.”
Beside her, Jayne freezes before reaching up to rub the back of her neck. His hand is warm against her hot skin, but it’s still a welcome relief. “Taught ya what?”
River swallows back the sob in her throat. She looks up into surprisingly sympathetic eyes. “Taught me how to Read.” She touches the center of Jayne’s forehead. “Mother loved teaching me all she knew and discovering new ways,” she says dreamily, tracing his face. “We had tea parties in our dreams. We’d dress up like princesses and Mother would let me pour the tea and we’d eat as many sugar cookies as we wanted. Mother taught me how to block out thoughts and how to pry open locked doors. How to see the many possible paths a man could walk down.”
Jayne flinches.
River knows then that she’s said too much. She lets her hands fall to her lap and stares back down into the welcoming gold liquid that is her cider. “Cannot access those abilities anymore. They took it away with their needles.” She pauses. “Don’t tell Simon.”
“Keepin’ secrets from the Doc? I’m in.” Jayne’s hand returns to her neck, rubbing circles with his callused thumb. “Ya know Vera?” He then scoffs. “Course ya know Vera - Killed six guys to git her. Named ‘er after some fool girl who wanted ta marry me.”
River’s head shoots up, her eyes wide.
“Ya don’t need to look surprised,” Jayne snaps. “I’m marriage material.”
“Of course,” she fights to keep her voice neutral but snorts at the end. She slaps a hand over her mouth, horrified.
Jayne rolls his eyes. “See if I ever try ta make you feel better ever again.” He smiles though and she can feel the amusement on the edge of his mind. It tickles.
“So...” Jayne leans in. He pulls back a strand of her hair and whispers in her ear. “Any particularly interestin’ thoughts in this place?” He thinks of money and fights and easy marks.
River smacks him in the chest. “That is an exploitation of my abilities. And very wrong.”
Jayne pushes his chair back and gets up. “What’s the use of havin’ a Reader around if I don’t exploit ya?”
Jayne offers her his hand again and laughs when she springs up from her chair to grab it. He leads her out, lets her lean into his side but draws the line when she tries to swing their hands.
“I’m gonna pretend that you’re extremely drunk an' not pound ya to the ground.” Jayne stares down at her. “You ain’t drunk, are ya?”
River giggles. “I can see your brain.”
“Aw hell.”
“It’s very nice,” River hastens to assure him.
“It is not!”