Firefly - Giselle (3/?)
Title: Giselle
Fandom: Firefly/Serenity
Disclaimer: I do not own.
Beta-Reader: A big thank you to revdorothyl.
Character/Pairings: Jayne/River, Crew
Rating: R
Warnings: Post BDM, Violence of the Reavers and Blue Hands variety.
Notes: The prequel to Little Girl Lost, taking place 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 Three
“Albatross...” Mal beckons her as he shades his blue eyes against the blinding sun that beats down on the desert landscape.
River sets down the boot she’s been procrastinating putting on and walks up to stand beside her surrogate father, wiggling her bare toes in the dry dust. “You called?”
Mal points off into the distance. “Promise me that if you ever decide to go crazy again you’ll never descend to a Jayne level of crazy.”
River frowns, straining her eyes in the direction Mal’s pointing toward. Her eyes immediately adjust to bring Jayne into focus (something she supposes she must thank the Academy for, if she must thank them for anything). The Mercenary was doing target practice, albeit target practice with a blindfold. River cocks her head to the side, studying Jayne as he fires off a string of shots at the bottles and cans he’s set up randomly around his playground.
A faint breeze drifts past him, telling Jayne all he needs to know: the faint scent of whiskey; the hollow sound of wind across glass; that strange other sense of knowing exactly where something is; and the crinkle of glass as it’s pierced through its empty heart.
River smiles fondly. “Honing all his senses.”
“I wasn’t aware he had any.”
“He does.” River’s tone suggests that it would be a very good idea if Mal didn’t argue with her. “Jayne’s grasp over his five primary senses is quite admirable, compared to that of the average human being who rarely, if ever, uses those same senses to the extent he does.”
Mal frowns, squinting off into the distance at Jayne as the big man suddenly shifts his rifle and fires off a series of shots into the air. A couple of birds land at his feet. Jayne crouches down beside the game. He removes his blindfold and slips on his sunglasses before opening his eyes, giving them plenty of time to adjust to the sun’s light. He then proceeds to examine his catch.
“Quail,” River says just as Jayne identifies the fowl. She licks her lips as Jayne contemplates the spices he’ll have to “borrow” from Inara to cook his food to perfection. “If you behave with extreme courtesy toward Jayne, he might share.”
“Or I could just order him to, what with me bein’ Captain, an’ all,” Mal grins.
River chooses not to comment on the probability of Mal’s orders ever being followed. “Or you could ask nicely.”
“But that’s just not as much fun.” Mal smiles down at her before looking back to his Mercenary. His jaw drops. “He’s not startin’ again, is he?”
“If the electrical impulses being sent through the optic nerve are to be trusted - yes.”
“That man...” Mal shakes his head. “I stop here after a week of Kaylee constantly hinting fer a vacation, an’ what does he do?”
“Training. Exercising. Keeping in shape. Practicing. Preparing.”
Mal is instantly suspicious. “Preparing fer what?”
“Serenity is not for everyone.” And peace of mind wouldn’t be hers for a long, long time.
Mal frowns down at her. “There something you wanna tell me?” He thinks of Ariel and betrayal and how he’ll dispatch his disloyal gun-hand, and isn’t it lucky he has a Reader around so he’ll never be stabbed in the back again?
River stops him before he can finish imagining his repulsive scenario where he flushes Jayne through the airlock. “Your thoughts are insulting and uncalled for.” She pins Mal with a look she knows makes him feel like a little boy again, pulled in front of the class by Miss Davidson for yanking on Sally’s braids and calling the first mistress of his heart fat. “The Captain hired Jayne as a gun-hand, primary purpose as outlined after Mr. Cobb shot his former boss, Marco: to protect the crew.” She levels Mal with a flat look. “Jayne is earning his keep.”
“Jayne’s doin’ what?” A gruff voice demands from directly behind Mal.
Mal jumps about a foot in the air and spins around, clutching at his heart. “The hell, Jayne!”
His various weaponry strapped all over his person and the quail hanging by their legs in his large hand, Jayne had somehow packed up and made his way to the Captain and pilot without Mal ever hearing him. River wonders if she would have even known he was coming if she was still able to construct her blocks.
The Mercenary looks down at his Captain, silently asking himself once again why he bothers to stay on with Mal. It was a question Jayne often asked himself and hated answering, because then he would have to admit that he considered Mal a friend, and there would go his happy fantasy of selling Mal out the next time the Captain was an ass, because friends don’t sell out friends.
“Jayne’s doin’ what?” he demanded again.
“None of yer business!”
Jayne’s eye twitches.
Before Jayne can convince himself that it won’t be that great of a tragedy if he ‘accidentally’ fatally shoots Mal, River draws the attention to herself by announcing: “We were admiring your dedication to your field of employment and to the insurance of the safety of this crew.” She twirls her arms around in the air, because she’s the crazy girl and crazy girls are allowed to dance whenever they please.
The red of her gloves catches Jayne’s attention. He wishes the gorram merchant had had some other gorram colour than fucking red.
River drops her arms and Jayne starts.
“Whatever.” Jayne stomps his way up onto the ramp and into the Bay, kicking her boots out of the way.
River waves after his shadow.
~*~
River tries not to watch Inara as she carefully packs up Wash’s dinosaurs into a sturdy cardboard box for their short journey from the bridge to Zoë’s bunk. She keeps both hands on Serenity’s controls and focuses on the black veil of stars, searching for any sudden asteroid, Reaver ship or, if she’s really lucky, a black hole.
But the Companion’s silk robes swish against the metal webbed floor as she painstakingly picks up each dinosaur and wipes off its non-existent dust (to let them gather dead skin particles would have been a gross insult to Wash), clearly wanting to talk, but not knowing how to broach the delicate topic.
Inara is a Companion, a person dedicated to healing, and thus, she feels the need to clear the air between Zoë and River. River wishes Inara would just go away.
Zoë is trying to be kind, to not blame River for Wash’s death, but it’s a struggle for the proud, warrior woman who didn’t even want to go into Reaver space for a girl she had reservations about. But she followed her Captain as she always did, and Wash followed her, and Wash died with his boots on.
Zoë blames River almost as much as she blames herself.
If she had only said no to Mal that one time, she would still have Wash. Miranda would still have been there, but it had already been there for twelve years with no one ever caring, and it would be there after all the crew of Serenity had met their maker. Yes, she’s finally won the war, but she’s paid a price she’d never prepared for or agreed to.
The baby helps. But it’s no substitute for Wash.
One day, Zoë may find it in herself to forgive the both of them, but River knows that that day will likely be the day when Zoë’s about to be reunited with her Wash. A deep, secret part of Zoë blames Wash as well, wishing that just that once he’d put down his foot and demand that she choose between him or Mal. There’s no doubt in her mind that she would have chosen him.
“It’s not about you,” Inara says, her cool hand coming to rest on River’s head. “Zoë just needs a little more time.”
“I know.”
“She’s just having trouble adjusting to both… Wash and the coming of the baby.” Inara smiles and River tries so hard not to see the black veil being dropped over Inara’s lovely, young face. A funeral tradition amongst Companions, a black veil symbolized a Companion joining the ranks of all those who had gone before her, all those who had dedicated their lives to healing. “Just be a little patient and your relationship will return to normal.”
Normal indicates the state something was in before the present circumstance. Simon is still waiting for River to return to normal. To return to being his fourteen-year-old gifted sister. Zoë had liked Jayne better than River before. But that’s better than strong dislike.
River offers Inara a small smile to show her understanding and her willingness to be patient.
Inara smiles back, oh so lovely. Dying things always do have such an unearthly beauty.
River wishes, not for the first time, that she could still close off her sight.
She hands Inara the T-Rex. “The baby needs toys filled with his father’s love. They’ll whisper Wash’s wisdom in his ear, and one day, he’ll be a leaf on the wind too.”
“I hope so.” Inara imagines that child grown-up and seated in his father’s chair.
On impulse, River sits up on her heels and pecks a kiss on Inara’s cheek.
Inara’s startled, pleased smile as her mask slips down makes the Companion look even more beautiful.
In an age where the average human life span is up to a hundred and fifty years in the Core, and a hundred on the Rim, it just doesn’t make sense that beautiful, kind Inara, who only wants to be loved and is so capable of it, will not live past the age of forty.
~*~
Since Hecate, Jayne allows River to spar with him. Requires it of her.
River can feel Simon’s disapproval, sharp and dark, as she bounces on the tips of her toes, waiting for Jayne to make the first move. Simon can’t stand the reminder that his sister isn’t the same little girl he remembers so fondly, but River won’t stop for his sake. She daren’t. Not when the Blue Hands are still out there. It’s about survival now.
She and Jayne circle around each other. Jayne doesn’t allow her to hold anything back, and he doesn’t hold back either.
“Maidenhead,” Jayne says when Simon tries to interfere. He leaves it at that, content that that will be explanation enough.
It’s not.
“River,” Simon’s voice is stern and River wonders if he realizes how much he sounds like their father did when he caught her correcting his tax reports again. Mother had always told her not to, because it hurt Daddy’s pride, but River couldn’t stand the thought of her father getting into trouble and he was just so horrible at math (“English always was his best subject,” Mother sighed ruefully as she looked over the bundle of sheets covered with purple marker corrections), no matter how angry he got at her.
“Come here.”
The only thing that stops her from automatically going to her brother and allowing him to put her back into her glass box is the look in Jayne’s eyes. Silent and judging. If she goes to Simon, Jayne will leave her to die on her own.
River’s fear of the Blue Hands is deeper than her love of her brother. Simon will just have to understand. She tries to land a kick in Jayne’s side. He blocks it.
“Rusty,” Jayne snarls, and slams his fist into her chest. She grabs it just before it makes contact, but the force behind his punch pushes her back. She stumbles and falls. Jayne’s eyes flash. “Git up.”
Simon yells in the background for Mal and Zoë, but River barely hears him.
She flips her body back onto her feet, and attacks.
River can hear it now, the song on the edge of Jayne’s mind. She finds herself automatically falling into the dance. Jayne grins at her as she blocks his hand and he blocks her own fist in turn. It’s not the most intricate choreography she’s ever danced to, and while she has no trouble keeping up to the tempo, Jayne refuses to let her rest, constantly taunting her, telling her she’s too slow, that her technique’s too messy, that she thinks too much.
She’s good - brilliant, because the Academy made her so, and they would not create something that is only adequate. But Jayne wants her to be perfect. To be so good no one will ever be able to touch her.
It’s the warrior in him. She’s a weapon, broken and dirty, that’s fallen into his hands, and it’s Jayne’s mission to fix her and learn all her secrets. To make her more than her manufacturers ever imagined, and re-baptize her.
Perhaps that was why he’d hated her so much in the beginning. Jayne hates the sight of any mistreated weapon. When he’s done, perhaps she’ll be his favourite weapon right after Vera. It’s too much to hope that she’ll be before Vera - stupid weapon named after a stupid female who tried to tame Jayne.
But River will be trustworthy enough that Jayne will be able to take her into a last stand and not worry that she’ll fail him. In that area, she has Vera beat. Jayne shed Blue Hand blood for River. It’s still on his hands, and he will shed more before the end. River can see just far enough along his path to know that much.
Yet another thing the Academy took from her.
But for that blood he’s spilt for her sake, she’ll remain loyal to him for the rest of her life.
River knocks Jayne off his feet, and he hits the Bay floor with a thud. He pushes himself back up, licking the corner of his mouth where a little trickle of blood has decorated his lips. He tilts his head at her, laughter in his bruised features.
“You’re really something else, girl.”
Her cheeks flame.
They are immediately doused a second later when the angry voices of the crew huff and puff and blow away the straw doors that are her new defences.
“Doors made of sticks next time, if bricks are still inaccessible,” she mumbles.
~*~
The culprits are seated at the table. The big man has an ice pack pressed firmly against his cheek to ease the puffiness from River’s last hit. If he weren’t aware of how serious this one event would end up being in the long run, Jayne would probably have his feet up on the table in open defiance. As it is, he meets the angry glares with a raised eyebrow that clearly wants to know when everyone got so stupid. The girl sits next to him, looking as dainty and as crazy as ever in her dress that is two sizes too big and her hair a tangled halo. She too has an eyebrow raised and is already planning strong rebuttals to any and all possible rules that might get thrown her way.
The rest of the crew stand on the other side of the table, a pantheon of angry gods, ready to decide their punishment: Jayne, to continually push a boulder up a mountain, only for it to roll back down just as he reaches the summit; River, to live in a pretty glass box, only taken down to be dusted, but never played with, as she is far too delicate and could break so easily. To be melted down once more and recast in a shape which only slightly resembles the girl she was at fourteen. The girl Simon remembers kissing on the forehead before he went off into the city to pursue an exciting career as a surgeon. The girl who kept so many secrets from big brother.
Mal, King of the Gods, stands in the center, his arms crossed, ready and willing to send bolts of lighting through Jayne and little sparks through his Albatross. At his side stands his queen. Shadow veil over her features, Inara remains the only woman Mal would ever consider willingly tying his life to, never noticing how dim her fire grows. Mal still hasn’t brought himself to question the remarkable ease with which Inara was able to retire early from the Companions Guild, nor how suddenly she gave in to him after almost four years of circling around each other with their teeth bared, too in awe of his own good luck. Inara hasn’t told him about her sickness yet, wanting their relationship to grow just that little bit stronger before she tells him that their time together has an expiration date. She prays nightly to Buddha for Mal’s forgiveness.
To Mal’s right stands his lieutenant. Zoë’s stomach is still mostly flat, as Wash’s child is only four months old. Sorrow is wrapped around her like a cloak, but Zoë will not succumb to it for that would disappoint Wash. A little bit wiser and no longer willing to follow Mal blindly, Zoë reserves her own judgement as Simon makes his case.
Simon demands Jayne’s pink slip, and curses the day when such a brute was ever let near his precious sister. Kaylee sits behind him, biting her lip, wanting to defend Jayne, yet at the same time, terrified of drawing her honeymoon period to a close.
“What do you even need him for? We only do legal runs now.”
While true, that doesn’t mean that legal runs are any less of a threat than the illegal ones. Mal finally glares Simon silent and addresses Jayne. “Got anything to say for yerself fer beatin’ up a little girl?”
River frowns. The last time she checked, Jayne had more bruises than her.
She stands up. “I asked him to,” she says, just as Jayne asks: “You forgit Maidenhead? The Reavers?”
Mal’s mouth tightens as the crew fall silent.
“Thought not.” Jayne looks at Zoë, his eyes softening. “Fair warning - I’m probably gonna be more of an ass than usual.” He nods toward her stomach. “You an’ Junior up fer it?”
Zoë’s lip twitches upward before she reins it in. “Say yer piece, Jayne.”
River nudges his foot under the table to further assure him that he’s not going to cause Zoë to miscarry just because he’s blunt and truthful.
“Mal,” Jayne pauses and studies the man he privately thinks of as a friend. “I’ve never known a man more talented at makin’ enemies than you.”
“That supposed to be a compliment?” Mal demands, only to be hushed by Inara and Zoë, who both suddenly understand why Jayne fought with River. River can feel a surge of approval from Zoë.
Jayne smirks. “Guess it is.” His smirk falls. “An’ I know that the Alliance is no longer after us, seein’ as how our bounties were lifted due to our little act of community service --”
Zoë flinches and Jayne immediately stops, his eyes searching her frantically for any sign of physical distress. Zoë nods toward him. “Go on.”
The big man nods back to her. “An’ we all know that you’re tryin’ to do the noble thing now that Zoë’s knocked-up an’ only take legal jobs, which don’t pay as well-” Jayne shot Mal a significant look that said that all raises to one Jayne Cobb were welcome. “But people like Niska, Patience...” He swallows heavily, and River can hear the screech of his iron door as it shudders on its hinges. “...Reavers - at the end of the day, they don’t care about the money.” He jerks his thumb over at River. “If the girl comes to me, askin’ if I’ll spar with her an’ keep ‘er ready to defend herself an’ her home, I ain’t gonna turn her away just ‘cause the Doc has a hissy fit. An’ that means not lettin’ her pull her punches. The girl needs to know what she’s capable of.” Jayne sets the ice pack down and rises from the table, staring Mal down. “Yer call, Cap’n.”
Mal stares straight back. “Albatross.”
“I am what I am.” River smiles at him. “I need to be what I am. Not all parts were there originally, nor am I satisfied with how I came to this point, but I need to control them or they will prove one day to be a hindrance to the crew, and this I will not allow. I asked Jayne for help and he provided it where no one else could. Why should you punish him for it?”
Mal sighs, and River knows she’s killed part of his dream of the little smuggler ship becoming a home where children like her can be sheltered. But Mal can’t be the one to give her a normal life. She was not meant for one, unlike the rest of his crew (except for Jayne, who’s been following Death’s Siren call since he was a child).
“Alright. You have my permission to spar with each other. Just go a bit easier on my ship.”
“Thank you for your permission, but I do not require it,” River says.
Jayne slumps against his chair, slapping a hand over his eyes. “I’m workin’ with an idiot.”
Zoë chokes on her laugh and Inara hides her smile behind her hand as Mal’s jaw drops.
River jabs one of Jayne’s new bruises for his lack of support. Jayne jerks away, his hand going down to rub the bruised flesh. As he bitches to himself, River turns her attention back to Mal. “Please understand that, while I will always be grateful to you for giving me a home, I am not comfortable with nor willing to allow you to dictate how I may live my life, as it is mine. If I choose to spar with Jayne, then it is because it is my decision and my wish, not yours.”
Simon is silent and still pulses with anger, which ends up making River angry. She smacks her hand against the table and tells him to desist.
“Only statues remain the same for their entire duration,” she snaps.
“River.” Simon’s voice is tight and quiet again.
“It’s not your decision either,” she cuts him off.
Simon recoils back as if she’d struck him. River ignores his overdramatic reaction and walks toward the exit of the mess. Not stomping, as stomping would suggest a loss of temper, which would lead the ignorant to jump headfirst to the conclusion that Serenity’s pilot had once more lost her mind and desperately needed a smoother.
“River,” a gruff voice calls from the swirl of minds in the mess.
River halts as she registers her name echoing through the vast cavern of her own mind.
“River,” the familiar voice repeats.
She risks a glance over her shoulder to see Kaylee comforting a sulky Simon and Inara tending to a shocked Mal. Zoë’s helping herself to some food, which just leaves Jayne.
His feet crossed and up on the table, Jayne leans his chair against the wall, watching the chaos in amusement and not looking in her direction. There’s a wide, crooked smile on his face as his voice whispers in her head: “That’s my girl.”
River grins from ear to ear. Vera’s days as Jayne’s favourite are numbered.
Fandom: Firefly/Serenity
Disclaimer: I do not own.
Beta-Reader: A big thank you to revdorothyl.
Character/Pairings: Jayne/River, Crew
Rating: R
Warnings: Post BDM, Violence of the Reavers and Blue Hands variety.
Notes: The prequel to Little Girl Lost, taking place 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 Three
“Albatross...” Mal beckons her as he shades his blue eyes against the blinding sun that beats down on the desert landscape.
River sets down the boot she’s been procrastinating putting on and walks up to stand beside her surrogate father, wiggling her bare toes in the dry dust. “You called?”
Mal points off into the distance. “Promise me that if you ever decide to go crazy again you’ll never descend to a Jayne level of crazy.”
River frowns, straining her eyes in the direction Mal’s pointing toward. Her eyes immediately adjust to bring Jayne into focus (something she supposes she must thank the Academy for, if she must thank them for anything). The Mercenary was doing target practice, albeit target practice with a blindfold. River cocks her head to the side, studying Jayne as he fires off a string of shots at the bottles and cans he’s set up randomly around his playground.
A faint breeze drifts past him, telling Jayne all he needs to know: the faint scent of whiskey; the hollow sound of wind across glass; that strange other sense of knowing exactly where something is; and the crinkle of glass as it’s pierced through its empty heart.
River smiles fondly. “Honing all his senses.”
“I wasn’t aware he had any.”
“He does.” River’s tone suggests that it would be a very good idea if Mal didn’t argue with her. “Jayne’s grasp over his five primary senses is quite admirable, compared to that of the average human being who rarely, if ever, uses those same senses to the extent he does.”
Mal frowns, squinting off into the distance at Jayne as the big man suddenly shifts his rifle and fires off a series of shots into the air. A couple of birds land at his feet. Jayne crouches down beside the game. He removes his blindfold and slips on his sunglasses before opening his eyes, giving them plenty of time to adjust to the sun’s light. He then proceeds to examine his catch.
“Quail,” River says just as Jayne identifies the fowl. She licks her lips as Jayne contemplates the spices he’ll have to “borrow” from Inara to cook his food to perfection. “If you behave with extreme courtesy toward Jayne, he might share.”
“Or I could just order him to, what with me bein’ Captain, an’ all,” Mal grins.
River chooses not to comment on the probability of Mal’s orders ever being followed. “Or you could ask nicely.”
“But that’s just not as much fun.” Mal smiles down at her before looking back to his Mercenary. His jaw drops. “He’s not startin’ again, is he?”
“If the electrical impulses being sent through the optic nerve are to be trusted - yes.”
“That man...” Mal shakes his head. “I stop here after a week of Kaylee constantly hinting fer a vacation, an’ what does he do?”
“Training. Exercising. Keeping in shape. Practicing. Preparing.”
Mal is instantly suspicious. “Preparing fer what?”
“Serenity is not for everyone.” And peace of mind wouldn’t be hers for a long, long time.
Mal frowns down at her. “There something you wanna tell me?” He thinks of Ariel and betrayal and how he’ll dispatch his disloyal gun-hand, and isn’t it lucky he has a Reader around so he’ll never be stabbed in the back again?
River stops him before he can finish imagining his repulsive scenario where he flushes Jayne through the airlock. “Your thoughts are insulting and uncalled for.” She pins Mal with a look she knows makes him feel like a little boy again, pulled in front of the class by Miss Davidson for yanking on Sally’s braids and calling the first mistress of his heart fat. “The Captain hired Jayne as a gun-hand, primary purpose as outlined after Mr. Cobb shot his former boss, Marco: to protect the crew.” She levels Mal with a flat look. “Jayne is earning his keep.”
“Jayne’s doin’ what?” A gruff voice demands from directly behind Mal.
Mal jumps about a foot in the air and spins around, clutching at his heart. “The hell, Jayne!”
His various weaponry strapped all over his person and the quail hanging by their legs in his large hand, Jayne had somehow packed up and made his way to the Captain and pilot without Mal ever hearing him. River wonders if she would have even known he was coming if she was still able to construct her blocks.
The Mercenary looks down at his Captain, silently asking himself once again why he bothers to stay on with Mal. It was a question Jayne often asked himself and hated answering, because then he would have to admit that he considered Mal a friend, and there would go his happy fantasy of selling Mal out the next time the Captain was an ass, because friends don’t sell out friends.
“Jayne’s doin’ what?” he demanded again.
“None of yer business!”
Jayne’s eye twitches.
Before Jayne can convince himself that it won’t be that great of a tragedy if he ‘accidentally’ fatally shoots Mal, River draws the attention to herself by announcing: “We were admiring your dedication to your field of employment and to the insurance of the safety of this crew.” She twirls her arms around in the air, because she’s the crazy girl and crazy girls are allowed to dance whenever they please.
The red of her gloves catches Jayne’s attention. He wishes the gorram merchant had had some other gorram colour than fucking red.
River drops her arms and Jayne starts.
“Whatever.” Jayne stomps his way up onto the ramp and into the Bay, kicking her boots out of the way.
River waves after his shadow.
~*~
River tries not to watch Inara as she carefully packs up Wash’s dinosaurs into a sturdy cardboard box for their short journey from the bridge to Zoë’s bunk. She keeps both hands on Serenity’s controls and focuses on the black veil of stars, searching for any sudden asteroid, Reaver ship or, if she’s really lucky, a black hole.
But the Companion’s silk robes swish against the metal webbed floor as she painstakingly picks up each dinosaur and wipes off its non-existent dust (to let them gather dead skin particles would have been a gross insult to Wash), clearly wanting to talk, but not knowing how to broach the delicate topic.
Inara is a Companion, a person dedicated to healing, and thus, she feels the need to clear the air between Zoë and River. River wishes Inara would just go away.
Zoë is trying to be kind, to not blame River for Wash’s death, but it’s a struggle for the proud, warrior woman who didn’t even want to go into Reaver space for a girl she had reservations about. But she followed her Captain as she always did, and Wash followed her, and Wash died with his boots on.
Zoë blames River almost as much as she blames herself.
If she had only said no to Mal that one time, she would still have Wash. Miranda would still have been there, but it had already been there for twelve years with no one ever caring, and it would be there after all the crew of Serenity had met their maker. Yes, she’s finally won the war, but she’s paid a price she’d never prepared for or agreed to.
The baby helps. But it’s no substitute for Wash.
One day, Zoë may find it in herself to forgive the both of them, but River knows that that day will likely be the day when Zoë’s about to be reunited with her Wash. A deep, secret part of Zoë blames Wash as well, wishing that just that once he’d put down his foot and demand that she choose between him or Mal. There’s no doubt in her mind that she would have chosen him.
“It’s not about you,” Inara says, her cool hand coming to rest on River’s head. “Zoë just needs a little more time.”
“I know.”
“She’s just having trouble adjusting to both… Wash and the coming of the baby.” Inara smiles and River tries so hard not to see the black veil being dropped over Inara’s lovely, young face. A funeral tradition amongst Companions, a black veil symbolized a Companion joining the ranks of all those who had gone before her, all those who had dedicated their lives to healing. “Just be a little patient and your relationship will return to normal.”
Normal indicates the state something was in before the present circumstance. Simon is still waiting for River to return to normal. To return to being his fourteen-year-old gifted sister. Zoë had liked Jayne better than River before. But that’s better than strong dislike.
River offers Inara a small smile to show her understanding and her willingness to be patient.
Inara smiles back, oh so lovely. Dying things always do have such an unearthly beauty.
River wishes, not for the first time, that she could still close off her sight.
She hands Inara the T-Rex. “The baby needs toys filled with his father’s love. They’ll whisper Wash’s wisdom in his ear, and one day, he’ll be a leaf on the wind too.”
“I hope so.” Inara imagines that child grown-up and seated in his father’s chair.
On impulse, River sits up on her heels and pecks a kiss on Inara’s cheek.
Inara’s startled, pleased smile as her mask slips down makes the Companion look even more beautiful.
In an age where the average human life span is up to a hundred and fifty years in the Core, and a hundred on the Rim, it just doesn’t make sense that beautiful, kind Inara, who only wants to be loved and is so capable of it, will not live past the age of forty.
~*~
Since Hecate, Jayne allows River to spar with him. Requires it of her.
River can feel Simon’s disapproval, sharp and dark, as she bounces on the tips of her toes, waiting for Jayne to make the first move. Simon can’t stand the reminder that his sister isn’t the same little girl he remembers so fondly, but River won’t stop for his sake. She daren’t. Not when the Blue Hands are still out there. It’s about survival now.
She and Jayne circle around each other. Jayne doesn’t allow her to hold anything back, and he doesn’t hold back either.
“Maidenhead,” Jayne says when Simon tries to interfere. He leaves it at that, content that that will be explanation enough.
It’s not.
“River,” Simon’s voice is stern and River wonders if he realizes how much he sounds like their father did when he caught her correcting his tax reports again. Mother had always told her not to, because it hurt Daddy’s pride, but River couldn’t stand the thought of her father getting into trouble and he was just so horrible at math (“English always was his best subject,” Mother sighed ruefully as she looked over the bundle of sheets covered with purple marker corrections), no matter how angry he got at her.
“Come here.”
The only thing that stops her from automatically going to her brother and allowing him to put her back into her glass box is the look in Jayne’s eyes. Silent and judging. If she goes to Simon, Jayne will leave her to die on her own.
River’s fear of the Blue Hands is deeper than her love of her brother. Simon will just have to understand. She tries to land a kick in Jayne’s side. He blocks it.
“Rusty,” Jayne snarls, and slams his fist into her chest. She grabs it just before it makes contact, but the force behind his punch pushes her back. She stumbles and falls. Jayne’s eyes flash. “Git up.”
Simon yells in the background for Mal and Zoë, but River barely hears him.
She flips her body back onto her feet, and attacks.
River can hear it now, the song on the edge of Jayne’s mind. She finds herself automatically falling into the dance. Jayne grins at her as she blocks his hand and he blocks her own fist in turn. It’s not the most intricate choreography she’s ever danced to, and while she has no trouble keeping up to the tempo, Jayne refuses to let her rest, constantly taunting her, telling her she’s too slow, that her technique’s too messy, that she thinks too much.
She’s good - brilliant, because the Academy made her so, and they would not create something that is only adequate. But Jayne wants her to be perfect. To be so good no one will ever be able to touch her.
It’s the warrior in him. She’s a weapon, broken and dirty, that’s fallen into his hands, and it’s Jayne’s mission to fix her and learn all her secrets. To make her more than her manufacturers ever imagined, and re-baptize her.
Perhaps that was why he’d hated her so much in the beginning. Jayne hates the sight of any mistreated weapon. When he’s done, perhaps she’ll be his favourite weapon right after Vera. It’s too much to hope that she’ll be before Vera - stupid weapon named after a stupid female who tried to tame Jayne.
But River will be trustworthy enough that Jayne will be able to take her into a last stand and not worry that she’ll fail him. In that area, she has Vera beat. Jayne shed Blue Hand blood for River. It’s still on his hands, and he will shed more before the end. River can see just far enough along his path to know that much.
Yet another thing the Academy took from her.
But for that blood he’s spilt for her sake, she’ll remain loyal to him for the rest of her life.
River knocks Jayne off his feet, and he hits the Bay floor with a thud. He pushes himself back up, licking the corner of his mouth where a little trickle of blood has decorated his lips. He tilts his head at her, laughter in his bruised features.
“You’re really something else, girl.”
Her cheeks flame.
They are immediately doused a second later when the angry voices of the crew huff and puff and blow away the straw doors that are her new defences.
“Doors made of sticks next time, if bricks are still inaccessible,” she mumbles.
~*~
The culprits are seated at the table. The big man has an ice pack pressed firmly against his cheek to ease the puffiness from River’s last hit. If he weren’t aware of how serious this one event would end up being in the long run, Jayne would probably have his feet up on the table in open defiance. As it is, he meets the angry glares with a raised eyebrow that clearly wants to know when everyone got so stupid. The girl sits next to him, looking as dainty and as crazy as ever in her dress that is two sizes too big and her hair a tangled halo. She too has an eyebrow raised and is already planning strong rebuttals to any and all possible rules that might get thrown her way.
The rest of the crew stand on the other side of the table, a pantheon of angry gods, ready to decide their punishment: Jayne, to continually push a boulder up a mountain, only for it to roll back down just as he reaches the summit; River, to live in a pretty glass box, only taken down to be dusted, but never played with, as she is far too delicate and could break so easily. To be melted down once more and recast in a shape which only slightly resembles the girl she was at fourteen. The girl Simon remembers kissing on the forehead before he went off into the city to pursue an exciting career as a surgeon. The girl who kept so many secrets from big brother.
Mal, King of the Gods, stands in the center, his arms crossed, ready and willing to send bolts of lighting through Jayne and little sparks through his Albatross. At his side stands his queen. Shadow veil over her features, Inara remains the only woman Mal would ever consider willingly tying his life to, never noticing how dim her fire grows. Mal still hasn’t brought himself to question the remarkable ease with which Inara was able to retire early from the Companions Guild, nor how suddenly she gave in to him after almost four years of circling around each other with their teeth bared, too in awe of his own good luck. Inara hasn’t told him about her sickness yet, wanting their relationship to grow just that little bit stronger before she tells him that their time together has an expiration date. She prays nightly to Buddha for Mal’s forgiveness.
To Mal’s right stands his lieutenant. Zoë’s stomach is still mostly flat, as Wash’s child is only four months old. Sorrow is wrapped around her like a cloak, but Zoë will not succumb to it for that would disappoint Wash. A little bit wiser and no longer willing to follow Mal blindly, Zoë reserves her own judgement as Simon makes his case.
Simon demands Jayne’s pink slip, and curses the day when such a brute was ever let near his precious sister. Kaylee sits behind him, biting her lip, wanting to defend Jayne, yet at the same time, terrified of drawing her honeymoon period to a close.
“What do you even need him for? We only do legal runs now.”
While true, that doesn’t mean that legal runs are any less of a threat than the illegal ones. Mal finally glares Simon silent and addresses Jayne. “Got anything to say for yerself fer beatin’ up a little girl?”
River frowns. The last time she checked, Jayne had more bruises than her.
She stands up. “I asked him to,” she says, just as Jayne asks: “You forgit Maidenhead? The Reavers?”
Mal’s mouth tightens as the crew fall silent.
“Thought not.” Jayne looks at Zoë, his eyes softening. “Fair warning - I’m probably gonna be more of an ass than usual.” He nods toward her stomach. “You an’ Junior up fer it?”
Zoë’s lip twitches upward before she reins it in. “Say yer piece, Jayne.”
River nudges his foot under the table to further assure him that he’s not going to cause Zoë to miscarry just because he’s blunt and truthful.
“Mal,” Jayne pauses and studies the man he privately thinks of as a friend. “I’ve never known a man more talented at makin’ enemies than you.”
“That supposed to be a compliment?” Mal demands, only to be hushed by Inara and Zoë, who both suddenly understand why Jayne fought with River. River can feel a surge of approval from Zoë.
Jayne smirks. “Guess it is.” His smirk falls. “An’ I know that the Alliance is no longer after us, seein’ as how our bounties were lifted due to our little act of community service --”
Zoë flinches and Jayne immediately stops, his eyes searching her frantically for any sign of physical distress. Zoë nods toward him. “Go on.”
The big man nods back to her. “An’ we all know that you’re tryin’ to do the noble thing now that Zoë’s knocked-up an’ only take legal jobs, which don’t pay as well-” Jayne shot Mal a significant look that said that all raises to one Jayne Cobb were welcome. “But people like Niska, Patience...” He swallows heavily, and River can hear the screech of his iron door as it shudders on its hinges. “...Reavers - at the end of the day, they don’t care about the money.” He jerks his thumb over at River. “If the girl comes to me, askin’ if I’ll spar with her an’ keep ‘er ready to defend herself an’ her home, I ain’t gonna turn her away just ‘cause the Doc has a hissy fit. An’ that means not lettin’ her pull her punches. The girl needs to know what she’s capable of.” Jayne sets the ice pack down and rises from the table, staring Mal down. “Yer call, Cap’n.”
Mal stares straight back. “Albatross.”
“I am what I am.” River smiles at him. “I need to be what I am. Not all parts were there originally, nor am I satisfied with how I came to this point, but I need to control them or they will prove one day to be a hindrance to the crew, and this I will not allow. I asked Jayne for help and he provided it where no one else could. Why should you punish him for it?”
Mal sighs, and River knows she’s killed part of his dream of the little smuggler ship becoming a home where children like her can be sheltered. But Mal can’t be the one to give her a normal life. She was not meant for one, unlike the rest of his crew (except for Jayne, who’s been following Death’s Siren call since he was a child).
“Alright. You have my permission to spar with each other. Just go a bit easier on my ship.”
“Thank you for your permission, but I do not require it,” River says.
Jayne slumps against his chair, slapping a hand over his eyes. “I’m workin’ with an idiot.”
Zoë chokes on her laugh and Inara hides her smile behind her hand as Mal’s jaw drops.
River jabs one of Jayne’s new bruises for his lack of support. Jayne jerks away, his hand going down to rub the bruised flesh. As he bitches to himself, River turns her attention back to Mal. “Please understand that, while I will always be grateful to you for giving me a home, I am not comfortable with nor willing to allow you to dictate how I may live my life, as it is mine. If I choose to spar with Jayne, then it is because it is my decision and my wish, not yours.”
Simon is silent and still pulses with anger, which ends up making River angry. She smacks her hand against the table and tells him to desist.
“Only statues remain the same for their entire duration,” she snaps.
“River.” Simon’s voice is tight and quiet again.
“It’s not your decision either,” she cuts him off.
Simon recoils back as if she’d struck him. River ignores his overdramatic reaction and walks toward the exit of the mess. Not stomping, as stomping would suggest a loss of temper, which would lead the ignorant to jump headfirst to the conclusion that Serenity’s pilot had once more lost her mind and desperately needed a smoother.
“River,” a gruff voice calls from the swirl of minds in the mess.
River halts as she registers her name echoing through the vast cavern of her own mind.
“River,” the familiar voice repeats.
She risks a glance over her shoulder to see Kaylee comforting a sulky Simon and Inara tending to a shocked Mal. Zoë’s helping herself to some food, which just leaves Jayne.
His feet crossed and up on the table, Jayne leans his chair against the wall, watching the chaos in amusement and not looking in her direction. There’s a wide, crooked smile on his face as his voice whispers in her head: “That’s my girl.”
River grins from ear to ear. Vera’s days as Jayne’s favourite are numbered.