Fic: Intravenous (Firefly: Mal/River, PG)
Last one guys...and I was really enjoying these too! Guess I've got no excuses now for not working on this other fic. But I promise it'll get finished. Maybe after tax time ;)
Intravenous, PG, 1220 words
For whatever_we_are who requested Mal/River, infirmary, healing. This was a funny one, didn't turn out quite as I had intended. But that's not always a bad thing. Mouse rollover for Chinese translations.
"Tell me something, would you, Captain? Do you actually run at bullets? Do you go on these jobs wearing some sort of magnetic undershirt that none of us know about? Because your talent for getting shot at, I have to say, is nothing short of amazing."
If looks could kill, Simon Tam would be six feet under the la ji pao qi of a moon they had only just managed to flee. But fortunately for the young doctor the patient to whom this innocent barb was aimed was so heavily sedated, that the chances of getting a reply--even a drug addled, semi-coherent one--were mercifully small.
Simon smiled, eyeing Mal as he hooked up the drip. The captain blinked, glared around the pain, and worked his jaw irritably. "I know," said Simon quietly. "It impresses me, too."
"Hero worship. Admiration of those whose deeds you can never hope to match." River had been standing at the doorway for some time, just watching, but now she spoke. "Man is fatally flawed, he knows no boundaries to overhaul jealousy, or want, or greed. Piety is small. Mortality is a gift." She stared at Simon, tilted her head in frank consideration. "There's no need to be a tease."
He peered at her warily as she walked to the bedside. "Just doing my job, mei-mei. Wouldn't be much of a doctor if I didn't try lifting my patient's spirits now and then." She returned his look, did well to hide her amusement. "He'll be okay."
"I know."
"But he's not immortal, River. You do realise that?"
"I know," she said, again. "He's flesh and blood, can break just as you or I can." Her eyes drifted to Mal, who had during this exchange drifted lightly back to sleep. She drew her fingers towards his arm, close to where the intravenous needle pierced the skin. But she didn't touch him. "That's his gift."
Simon sighed, began tiding up the things he had gotten out. "Well, maybe, but he needs rest, too."
"Won't wake him."
He smiled. He couldn't help it. "Okay."
**
For twenty minutes she waited. To keep herself occupied she listened to the air-filters: every thirty seconds the pressure would drop, for a moment there'd be silence, nothing, then--click, click--the cycle would start up again. She enjoyed the sound of it, liked counting with the mechanics as girl and ship breathed together. Momentum, thought River, watching the halogen lights, strips of blue-white across the infirmary ceiling. Light, life, movement. A heartbeat.
"There a spider up there you watchin', girl?"
She turned. Mal's eyes were open; he blinked drowsily at her. "Y'know, he's probably watchin' you right back," he mumbled. "I know I would..."
"Chen Yu was wrong to pick a fight. He's a coward. Ran away and let his man put a bullet to you." She walked over, stopped at his side. One small hand she wrapped around his. She smiled a little at the memory. "But he knew when to stop when I put leather to his jaw."
"River--"
"Have to fight, Mal. It's what I do."
His voice was hoarse, suddenly loud in the cabin. "No, sweetheart. No. It's not."
"You say that," River said, bluntly, thinking her own voice too small to be saying such things, "but I saved your life today. And other days I'll do it again. You can't expect me to love and not act on it. You..."
"What did you just say?"
Mal sat up. He pulled his hand away and looked at her, confusion now mixed with the pain. River closed her eyes, waited for the air-filters to turn again, and held her breath in the silence.
"River." His voice seemed to come from everywhere at once. Behind the darkness of her eyelids, she sensed him lean forward.
"I have to go," she whispered, opening them. "Should not have woken you. Simon--"
"Doc don't need to be runnin' to my side every time I sit outta bed."
"I know I'm not like the others," she blurted. "Not pretty like Inara. Not happy like Kaylee. I get frightened and want to run but I don't. I think of you, and I don't."
"You're too young. I'll just...you'll end up hurt."
"Like you hurt Inara?"
"Inara left on her own good terms. Weren't gonna run after her, 'sides, reason--if there were any all along--it had long gone, see, burnt out of its own accord. But you...it's just a bad idea. D'you hear what I'm sayin', River? Yi ge huai yi."
She stared at him. "What about you?"
He frowned. River gripped the side rail of the bed, frustration suddenly leaking out of her like the drugs in the captain's arm. "I'm improving, Mal, but I can still see. Don't forget what I am."
She waited, knowing they were baited words, shouldn't be said; but he looked so tired, wounded. Anger won't heal, she told herself. And neither will love if that is what it comes from. A blush warmed her skin, and River caught her lip, looked away. "I'm sorry. I forget...I wasn't supposed to wake you."
"You've already said that."
A smile tweaked his lips. Suddenly the argument seemed, inexplicably, to have died its own death. She felt his hand brush hers.
"River, I'm the ben dan fool should be apologisin'. Weren't my place to bite y'head off. Stay if you want. Company's good."
"Conversation is good, too." She smiled at their hands.
"No, conversation is strange, little one. But that don't mean it ain't all bad."
She looked at him, fondly. "You need to sleep."
"Apparently."
Behind them there came the muffled sound of footsteps on the stairwell. River turned away, not willing to say any more; she slipped past her brother as he stepped into the room, head down, ignoring his frown and his weary disapproval. Outside she paused, listening. Above the hum of the ship, the whirr underfoot, she could now hear something louder, more insistent than the air. A heartbeat. It was hers.
**
"I'm sorry."
Mal blinked, drowsily. "What for?"
Simon rubbed the bridge of his nose. It felt as if he had spent his whole life having conversations such as these. And they never got any easier.
"Did she wake you?"
They shared a look, two men--each with their own secrets, misgivings, and fierce devotions. Simon knew the chance of openness between them was still something of an aspiration, one that would most likely never come to fruition. On the bed Mal shifted uncomfortably.
"Not really," he said, after a moment.
"She says things, Captain. Doesn't always mean them."
Mal said nothing. His eyes drifted to the ceiling, lost in thought and something Simon couldn't identify. Confusion fluttered momentarily over the younger man's face; but he knew a barricade when he saw one, emotional or otherwise, and he thought of the look in River's eyes, realised suddenly how different a girl she was around their captain. He sighed, walked to his patient's side and tapped at the drip.
"I know you don't run at bullets," he murmured softly. "But I'd like to know you'll keep her safe."
"You say somethin, Doc?"
Simon shook his head, made to reply but Mal was already drifting, the drug taking effect with speed. "No," he said, watching Mal, asleep and still at last. "Just the anti-hero at work."
Intravenous, PG, 1220 words
For whatever_we_are who requested Mal/River, infirmary, healing. This was a funny one, didn't turn out quite as I had intended. But that's not always a bad thing. Mouse rollover for Chinese translations.
"Tell me something, would you, Captain? Do you actually run at bullets? Do you go on these jobs wearing some sort of magnetic undershirt that none of us know about? Because your talent for getting shot at, I have to say, is nothing short of amazing."
If looks could kill, Simon Tam would be six feet under the la ji pao qi of a moon they had only just managed to flee. But fortunately for the young doctor the patient to whom this innocent barb was aimed was so heavily sedated, that the chances of getting a reply--even a drug addled, semi-coherent one--were mercifully small.
Simon smiled, eyeing Mal as he hooked up the drip. The captain blinked, glared around the pain, and worked his jaw irritably. "I know," said Simon quietly. "It impresses me, too."
"Hero worship. Admiration of those whose deeds you can never hope to match." River had been standing at the doorway for some time, just watching, but now she spoke. "Man is fatally flawed, he knows no boundaries to overhaul jealousy, or want, or greed. Piety is small. Mortality is a gift." She stared at Simon, tilted her head in frank consideration. "There's no need to be a tease."
He peered at her warily as she walked to the bedside. "Just doing my job, mei-mei. Wouldn't be much of a doctor if I didn't try lifting my patient's spirits now and then." She returned his look, did well to hide her amusement. "He'll be okay."
"I know."
"But he's not immortal, River. You do realise that?"
"I know," she said, again. "He's flesh and blood, can break just as you or I can." Her eyes drifted to Mal, who had during this exchange drifted lightly back to sleep. She drew her fingers towards his arm, close to where the intravenous needle pierced the skin. But she didn't touch him. "That's his gift."
Simon sighed, began tiding up the things he had gotten out. "Well, maybe, but he needs rest, too."
"Won't wake him."
He smiled. He couldn't help it. "Okay."
**
For twenty minutes she waited. To keep herself occupied she listened to the air-filters: every thirty seconds the pressure would drop, for a moment there'd be silence, nothing, then--click, click--the cycle would start up again. She enjoyed the sound of it, liked counting with the mechanics as girl and ship breathed together. Momentum, thought River, watching the halogen lights, strips of blue-white across the infirmary ceiling. Light, life, movement. A heartbeat.
"There a spider up there you watchin', girl?"
She turned. Mal's eyes were open; he blinked drowsily at her. "Y'know, he's probably watchin' you right back," he mumbled. "I know I would..."
"Chen Yu was wrong to pick a fight. He's a coward. Ran away and let his man put a bullet to you." She walked over, stopped at his side. One small hand she wrapped around his. She smiled a little at the memory. "But he knew when to stop when I put leather to his jaw."
"River--"
"Have to fight, Mal. It's what I do."
His voice was hoarse, suddenly loud in the cabin. "No, sweetheart. No. It's not."
"You say that," River said, bluntly, thinking her own voice too small to be saying such things, "but I saved your life today. And other days I'll do it again. You can't expect me to love and not act on it. You..."
"What did you just say?"
Mal sat up. He pulled his hand away and looked at her, confusion now mixed with the pain. River closed her eyes, waited for the air-filters to turn again, and held her breath in the silence.
"River." His voice seemed to come from everywhere at once. Behind the darkness of her eyelids, she sensed him lean forward.
"I have to go," she whispered, opening them. "Should not have woken you. Simon--"
"Doc don't need to be runnin' to my side every time I sit outta bed."
"I know I'm not like the others," she blurted. "Not pretty like Inara. Not happy like Kaylee. I get frightened and want to run but I don't. I think of you, and I don't."
"You're too young. I'll just...you'll end up hurt."
"Like you hurt Inara?"
"Inara left on her own good terms. Weren't gonna run after her, 'sides, reason--if there were any all along--it had long gone, see, burnt out of its own accord. But you...it's just a bad idea. D'you hear what I'm sayin', River? Yi ge huai yi."
She stared at him. "What about you?"
He frowned. River gripped the side rail of the bed, frustration suddenly leaking out of her like the drugs in the captain's arm. "I'm improving, Mal, but I can still see. Don't forget what I am."
She waited, knowing they were baited words, shouldn't be said; but he looked so tired, wounded. Anger won't heal, she told herself. And neither will love if that is what it comes from. A blush warmed her skin, and River caught her lip, looked away. "I'm sorry. I forget...I wasn't supposed to wake you."
"You've already said that."
A smile tweaked his lips. Suddenly the argument seemed, inexplicably, to have died its own death. She felt his hand brush hers.
"River, I'm the ben dan fool should be apologisin'. Weren't my place to bite y'head off. Stay if you want. Company's good."
"Conversation is good, too." She smiled at their hands.
"No, conversation is strange, little one. But that don't mean it ain't all bad."
She looked at him, fondly. "You need to sleep."
"Apparently."
Behind them there came the muffled sound of footsteps on the stairwell. River turned away, not willing to say any more; she slipped past her brother as he stepped into the room, head down, ignoring his frown and his weary disapproval. Outside she paused, listening. Above the hum of the ship, the whirr underfoot, she could now hear something louder, more insistent than the air. A heartbeat. It was hers.
**
"I'm sorry."
Mal blinked, drowsily. "What for?"
Simon rubbed the bridge of his nose. It felt as if he had spent his whole life having conversations such as these. And they never got any easier.
"Did she wake you?"
They shared a look, two men--each with their own secrets, misgivings, and fierce devotions. Simon knew the chance of openness between them was still something of an aspiration, one that would most likely never come to fruition. On the bed Mal shifted uncomfortably.
"Not really," he said, after a moment.
"She says things, Captain. Doesn't always mean them."
Mal said nothing. His eyes drifted to the ceiling, lost in thought and something Simon couldn't identify. Confusion fluttered momentarily over the younger man's face; but he knew a barricade when he saw one, emotional or otherwise, and he thought of the look in River's eyes, realised suddenly how different a girl she was around their captain. He sighed, walked to his patient's side and tapped at the drip.
"I know you don't run at bullets," he murmured softly. "But I'd like to know you'll keep her safe."
"You say somethin, Doc?"
Simon shook his head, made to reply but Mal was already drifting, the drug taking effect with speed. "No," he said, watching Mal, asleep and still at last. "Just the anti-hero at work."