Blitz! Learning to Fly, Chapter 8.
Remember this, my friends: angst only makes the sex hotter.
Title: Learning to Fly
Author: ninamazing, or Nina
Chapter: Eight. Previous chapters located here.
Word Count: 1521.
Rating/Warnings: PG-13.
Pairings/Characters: Mal/River. The OTP of Hot.
Spoilers: Large, for Serenity, the Dark Horse comic miniseries, and the River Tam Sessions.
Summary: Mal and River go to their respective rocks for comfort. Serenity watches from the sidelines, being all mysterious-like.
Excerpt: It was as if the past year and a half had meant nothing - in a day, in an hour, in five minutes, Mal had broken every shard of trust they'd ever placed in him.
When Zoe stabilized, Simon and Mal just sat with their hands on their fists, one on either side of her, waiting. Mal only stared at Zoe, but Simon looked everywhere but; he was thinking too hard, as usual, and he wasn't wondering - though he should have been - what exactly would happen to him if the captain's second didn't make it.
The instant Mal slumped over in exhaustion, mouth distorted by his supporting fist, River's face appeared behind a window, and she whispered her brother's name.
"Not here," she mumbled, a freakish panic in her wet eyes, when her brother tried to pull her into the infirmary to sit down. It was then that Simon noticed that River had kept herself hidden from Mal's point of view, even as he slept; for him, it was like she wasn't there at all. They went to River's bunk, now next to Zoe's in the fore passage with all the other crew quarters.
"What's going on, mei-mei?" Simon asked, lowering himself onto her bed. Her room had changed since he'd been here last; she had done more calligraphy, and Chinese characters hung on the wall: love, honor, war, even - he realized with a jolt - sex.
River settled herself in the crook of his arm, and leaned her damp face into his shoulder.
"Did wrong," she murmured. "Captain thought he would do it first, but it was me. Never failed before. Feels like throwing up and dying."
Simon gathered his sister into his lap, rubbing her back, trying to think of anything that could possibly soothe her. He had no idea what Mal had done, but he wanted to murder him for it. It was as if the past year and a half had meant nothing - in a day, in an hour, in five minutes, Mal had broken every shard of trust they'd ever placed in him. They had to get off Serenity.
"No," River squeaked, her voice not working properly. She was so upset; Simon felt himself going crazy, losing the calm they'd worked so hard to find after Miranda.
"River," he said at last, "what did he do? Because you know I never - I never would have told him anything if I thought he'd do something stupid."
River laughed softly through her tears. "He's always stupid," she pointed out. It struck Simon as the sort of thing Kaylee might say, lovingly, and that made him smile - just the smallest bit.
"You're in shock, you know," Simon told her. A woman she may have been, and a strong one, but she still needed her big brother, and that gave him strength. "After what happened - you need to relax, you need a few nights of rest."
"Won't get it," River responded. "Need to fly for Mal. Keep this bird in the air -" to hear her imitating him was torture - "do everything for him."
"You don't have to do anything for him," Simon shot back firmly. "He owes you his life ten times over, and you don't have to work for him. You don’t have to work at all - I've seen to that."
"Saved me, too," River replied, truthfully. "Needs me."
"You're not his scapegoat." Simon was beginning to have an inkling of what was going on. "What did he say to you? From what he told me, it seemed like you were the only reason any of us are still alive."
"He didn't say that," she whispered. "I'm still the albatross. I hear things. I was supposed to tell him."
"River," Simon said, lifting her face up and cupping her cheek, "that's not right. Dong ma? I have been working for the past two years to make sure you don't see or hear anything that disturbs you. I understand mental disorders. There's a biochemical imbalance in your brain and you cannot be expected to control it. You're sick, just as if you had diabetes or - or - or anemia."
"Don't want to be sick," River moaned, burying her face in his shirt, breathing in deeply. He smelled so good - smelled like home.
"I don't want you to be sick either," Simon agreed, rocking her back and forth. "And I don't want anybody to use you when all you're supposed to be doing is getting better. I don't care about Mal. He doesn't deserve you."
River shook her head almost imperceptibly against her brother's chest. Simon didn't notice.
"We'll leave," he told her. "We can -"
"Can't," she said fiercely, her teeth clenched. "Still love him. It's like a song. Want to kill him, want to save him at the same time. Don't know which to do. It hurts, Simon," and she fell into her brother's arms, sobbing, and he knew that by holding her he was promising to help - even if that help meant reuniting her with that ben tian sheng de yi dui rou she called her captain.
It wouldn't really be giving her up. He'd always be standing by in the background, waiting to catch her when she fell. He needed to.
Mal was gazing into Zoe's face, but he was seeing Book - or rather, feeling him. That last punch had connected with his jaw, bloodied him, sent him spinning backwards, reeling. At the time Mal had made it all physical, ignored what he'd said.
Right now, he could understand perfectly why Book had left. He was right. It was getting out of hand.
I'll enjoy it - when Mal thought back to that moment he was afraid he might throw up everything inside him, guts, heart, stomach spilling out onto the floor in a bloody mess, and Mal a shell, soulless, nothing, just a picture. He'd thought, after Miranda, that he'd learned something and regained just a little bit of what he'd been like.
He remembered the night he'd spoken to the Operative; before he went to sleep, he'd whittled the cross out of its enclosure out of the bottom of his boot, dropped it under his pillow, where it had stayed. Mal shuddered to think what God would say now that it turned out he was murdering children. Come to think of it, probably the Devil himself would frown on him.
Mal's hand wiped his face, as lost as he was. Tears that hadn't come in years opened up, floodgates suddenly flung wide, and Mal didn't know what to do because he'd lost everything so quickly, ZoeRiverBookWash, almost an instant after he'd sworn never to fail any of them again. Especially not that one. Especially not the little girl who wasn't a little girl at all, who had woman parts: a spirit, a heart, cold eyes that would never forgive him for turning on her when she needed him the most. It was as if pledging himself to people was an automatic kill order.
He needed more time. He needed to go back in time, to -
"Sir?"
At her side in a moment. Hands on her hands.
"Zoe." He could just barely contain himself, but it was still loud enough to be a yell.
"Sir," she said again, this time smiling. "Doesn't feel too bad. I think I'll make it." Before Mal had time to be hopeful, she coughed up blood, leaning over and it was all out there, and he realized that while he'd been crying she had soaked through another blanket. Where the hell was Simon?
"You just lie back," he told her, and again, uselessly; "just lie back, Doc'll be here any second." He'd kill Simon for this - nope, he'd threatened enough people for one day, and he remembered again.
"He fixed me up," said Zoe; he couldn't think of the last time she'd sounded this fuzzy-headed, and it scared him even more. She just smiled to see his face so torn.
"You know why I did it," Zoe murmured, smiling up at him, the only woman in the world who could be playful with a bullet wound. "Had to."
"Didn't have to," Mal said darkly, and he thought maybe he shouldn't look at her anymore, she was too marvelous, so he gazed at his dull boots. "Not worth savin'."
"No, sir," Zoe agreed, "maybe you're not. But the two of you together is somethin' else entirely."
Mal's eyes shot back to hers. So she had seen them.
"For me," Zoe continued, and then thought better of it: "for Wash," she corrected. "Don't screw it up, sir."
Terrible cold hands clutched at Mal's stomach. It was all over. The final piece in the puzzle, as River might say, or the nail in the coffin; if he thought he had failed them before, it was nothing to what he'd just realized now. His hands fell away from hers; he thought his blood had simply stopped pumping.
"I think I already have, Zoe."
"No," she said, and tried to sit up, and fell back again in a dead faint, her face still contorted with pain.
When Simon came back that was how he found him: the Captain curled over Zoe, holding her against what she couldn't control.
Title: Learning to Fly
Author: ninamazing, or Nina
Chapter: Eight. Previous chapters located here.
Word Count: 1521.
Rating/Warnings: PG-13.
Pairings/Characters: Mal/River. The OTP of Hot.
Spoilers: Large, for Serenity, the Dark Horse comic miniseries, and the River Tam Sessions.
Summary: Mal and River go to their respective rocks for comfort. Serenity watches from the sidelines, being all mysterious-like.
Excerpt: It was as if the past year and a half had meant nothing - in a day, in an hour, in five minutes, Mal had broken every shard of trust they'd ever placed in him.
When Zoe stabilized, Simon and Mal just sat with their hands on their fists, one on either side of her, waiting. Mal only stared at Zoe, but Simon looked everywhere but; he was thinking too hard, as usual, and he wasn't wondering - though he should have been - what exactly would happen to him if the captain's second didn't make it.
The instant Mal slumped over in exhaustion, mouth distorted by his supporting fist, River's face appeared behind a window, and she whispered her brother's name.
"Not here," she mumbled, a freakish panic in her wet eyes, when her brother tried to pull her into the infirmary to sit down. It was then that Simon noticed that River had kept herself hidden from Mal's point of view, even as he slept; for him, it was like she wasn't there at all. They went to River's bunk, now next to Zoe's in the fore passage with all the other crew quarters.
"What's going on, mei-mei?" Simon asked, lowering himself onto her bed. Her room had changed since he'd been here last; she had done more calligraphy, and Chinese characters hung on the wall: love, honor, war, even - he realized with a jolt - sex.
River settled herself in the crook of his arm, and leaned her damp face into his shoulder.
"Did wrong," she murmured. "Captain thought he would do it first, but it was me. Never failed before. Feels like throwing up and dying."
Simon gathered his sister into his lap, rubbing her back, trying to think of anything that could possibly soothe her. He had no idea what Mal had done, but he wanted to murder him for it. It was as if the past year and a half had meant nothing - in a day, in an hour, in five minutes, Mal had broken every shard of trust they'd ever placed in him. They had to get off Serenity.
"No," River squeaked, her voice not working properly. She was so upset; Simon felt himself going crazy, losing the calm they'd worked so hard to find after Miranda.
"River," he said at last, "what did he do? Because you know I never - I never would have told him anything if I thought he'd do something stupid."
River laughed softly through her tears. "He's always stupid," she pointed out. It struck Simon as the sort of thing Kaylee might say, lovingly, and that made him smile - just the smallest bit.
"You're in shock, you know," Simon told her. A woman she may have been, and a strong one, but she still needed her big brother, and that gave him strength. "After what happened - you need to relax, you need a few nights of rest."
"Won't get it," River responded. "Need to fly for Mal. Keep this bird in the air -" to hear her imitating him was torture - "do everything for him."
"You don't have to do anything for him," Simon shot back firmly. "He owes you his life ten times over, and you don't have to work for him. You don’t have to work at all - I've seen to that."
"Saved me, too," River replied, truthfully. "Needs me."
"You're not his scapegoat." Simon was beginning to have an inkling of what was going on. "What did he say to you? From what he told me, it seemed like you were the only reason any of us are still alive."
"He didn't say that," she whispered. "I'm still the albatross. I hear things. I was supposed to tell him."
"River," Simon said, lifting her face up and cupping her cheek, "that's not right. Dong ma? I have been working for the past two years to make sure you don't see or hear anything that disturbs you. I understand mental disorders. There's a biochemical imbalance in your brain and you cannot be expected to control it. You're sick, just as if you had diabetes or - or - or anemia."
"Don't want to be sick," River moaned, burying her face in his shirt, breathing in deeply. He smelled so good - smelled like home.
"I don't want you to be sick either," Simon agreed, rocking her back and forth. "And I don't want anybody to use you when all you're supposed to be doing is getting better. I don't care about Mal. He doesn't deserve you."
River shook her head almost imperceptibly against her brother's chest. Simon didn't notice.
"We'll leave," he told her. "We can -"
"Can't," she said fiercely, her teeth clenched. "Still love him. It's like a song. Want to kill him, want to save him at the same time. Don't know which to do. It hurts, Simon," and she fell into her brother's arms, sobbing, and he knew that by holding her he was promising to help - even if that help meant reuniting her with that ben tian sheng de yi dui rou she called her captain.
It wouldn't really be giving her up. He'd always be standing by in the background, waiting to catch her when she fell. He needed to.
Mal was gazing into Zoe's face, but he was seeing Book - or rather, feeling him. That last punch had connected with his jaw, bloodied him, sent him spinning backwards, reeling. At the time Mal had made it all physical, ignored what he'd said.
Right now, he could understand perfectly why Book had left. He was right. It was getting out of hand.
I'll enjoy it - when Mal thought back to that moment he was afraid he might throw up everything inside him, guts, heart, stomach spilling out onto the floor in a bloody mess, and Mal a shell, soulless, nothing, just a picture. He'd thought, after Miranda, that he'd learned something and regained just a little bit of what he'd been like.
He remembered the night he'd spoken to the Operative; before he went to sleep, he'd whittled the cross out of its enclosure out of the bottom of his boot, dropped it under his pillow, where it had stayed. Mal shuddered to think what God would say now that it turned out he was murdering children. Come to think of it, probably the Devil himself would frown on him.
Mal's hand wiped his face, as lost as he was. Tears that hadn't come in years opened up, floodgates suddenly flung wide, and Mal didn't know what to do because he'd lost everything so quickly, ZoeRiverBookWash, almost an instant after he'd sworn never to fail any of them again. Especially not that one. Especially not the little girl who wasn't a little girl at all, who had woman parts: a spirit, a heart, cold eyes that would never forgive him for turning on her when she needed him the most. It was as if pledging himself to people was an automatic kill order.
He needed more time. He needed to go back in time, to -
"Sir?"
At her side in a moment. Hands on her hands.
"Zoe." He could just barely contain himself, but it was still loud enough to be a yell.
"Sir," she said again, this time smiling. "Doesn't feel too bad. I think I'll make it." Before Mal had time to be hopeful, she coughed up blood, leaning over and it was all out there, and he realized that while he'd been crying she had soaked through another blanket. Where the hell was Simon?
"You just lie back," he told her, and again, uselessly; "just lie back, Doc'll be here any second." He'd kill Simon for this - nope, he'd threatened enough people for one day, and he remembered again.
"He fixed me up," said Zoe; he couldn't think of the last time she'd sounded this fuzzy-headed, and it scared him even more. She just smiled to see his face so torn.
"You know why I did it," Zoe murmured, smiling up at him, the only woman in the world who could be playful with a bullet wound. "Had to."
"Didn't have to," Mal said darkly, and he thought maybe he shouldn't look at her anymore, she was too marvelous, so he gazed at his dull boots. "Not worth savin'."
"No, sir," Zoe agreed, "maybe you're not. But the two of you together is somethin' else entirely."
Mal's eyes shot back to hers. So she had seen them.
"For me," Zoe continued, and then thought better of it: "for Wash," she corrected. "Don't screw it up, sir."
Terrible cold hands clutched at Mal's stomach. It was all over. The final piece in the puzzle, as River might say, or the nail in the coffin; if he thought he had failed them before, it was nothing to what he'd just realized now. His hands fell away from hers; he thought his blood had simply stopped pumping.
"I think I already have, Zoe."
"No," she said, and tried to sit up, and fell back again in a dead faint, her face still contorted with pain.
When Simon came back that was how he found him: the Captain curled over Zoe, holding her against what she couldn't control.