FIC: Security (1/5)
Title: Security
Author: natalexx
Pairing: Mal/River, River POV
Spoilers: Entire series, and the movie. Set post-Serenity.
Summary: “In the space for uncertainty, there is hope for River.”
Word count: ~ 25,000 (complete, posted in 5 parts for length)
Beta: jazzfic, who was very patient with sometimes unconventional grammar. Her thoroughness cannot be blamed for any remaining errors.
Title inspired by the Joss Stone song. Way back when I started the first draft of this, I also made a soundtrack, which-for reference-is here. Unfortunately, I cannot re-upload as I have no access to my music at this time.
So, I started this fic way back in 2005. I feel like I should have a length preface to go with it, but mostly I just want to get it posted. This is essentially my ‘shipper magnum opus.
Part one
Jayne hovers at her side, falling behind Zoe’s marching stride. “Got no call to spread tales ‘bout what happened yesterday, girlie,” he says. River raises an eyebrow, looks him up and down. She is silent.
“Come on now, River. You’re the one crawlin’ around inside the ship. Ain’t my fault you ain’t normal. I don’t go sneakin’ around and peekin’ at nobody by my own self.”
He watches the grass, uncomfortably. Little sprouts of tiny weeds, not very green. Glares at her out of the corner of his eyes. On the cusp of embarrassment; makes him mean. She smiles.
“Keep your gun in sight and bite your lip.” She judges his reaction; thinks she understands, the line between things there to see for anyone and things only she can.
He blinks at her. "Now that's just--that ain't right," he stammers, thinking about the air duct over his own bunk.
She shrugs. "Seen it all before," she says simply.
Horrified, he won't be able to undress in his bunk for a week. She doesn’t think that’s too long to make him suffer. He thought she could hurt Serenity, play games with her insides, make them all fall out of the sky. The air ducts are her conduit and she must learn; there is no wrong way to gather information. “I’m no gorram fool,” she tells him. This is anger. Makes him look away from her, makes him embarrassed: different from seeing Kaylee and Simon naked and flush. Seems appropriate.
She skips ahead of Jayne, to concentrate: she has to get it right; has to earn her keep like she promised Mal. Newhall is a beautiful planet with hills and trees, but the wind is empty of music and River doesn’t like it. In the void beyond her physical sight, in the blank between what has happened and what must come, something is lurking. Something means the job won't go smooth for Mal. One minute she can't see it; next she knows, but more importantly she knows that she must hurry. It’s not right to steal Zoe’s gun from her holster, but it must be done; River may hurt her bare feet not watching for rocks as she runs up the grassy knoll, but Simon must be convinced that it was more important to interrupt before the man shoots the captain.
Zoe and Jayne stop short at her side; River hands Zoe her gun back. The wind is still forlorn, but River finds she doesn’t share its emptiness. Mal climbs up off the ground in the shallow ravine below them and dusts off his pants, looking up at them all the while.
“You all right?” Zoe calls down.
“Am now,” Mal replies. “Like to part my hair with that one, darlin’,” he says to River. Reaction is necessary, and she smiles, because Mal smiled up at her, squinting from the sun but not imminent death. "Well." He turns back to their contract buyer. "Now that my business associates are here to keep us company, what was that you were about to enlighten me about as to the terms of our bargain?"
Zoe's expression is hard; she fingers her weapon like she has half a mind to use it. She meets River's eyes but they don't have to share words. River understands. If Mal wasn’t living, she’d just stop. Might be a world without hope in it now, but she has to find meaning somewhere; elsewise there’s nothing: dark and empty. Like the blackness of space without a ship to cleave to.
But they have a deal to make, and no more options. Ain’t no man can finagle a double-deal back to straight and narrow like Mal. She knows as well as Zoe; they exchange the thought momentarily, eye to eye. Makes River think, maybe, this is what it’s like. Not like being a girl, confident that she’s able to leap beyond all explanation; no need to write things down, because she already sees the answers. Knowledge always available; long as it was in reach she could understand-everything except Simon and his bookish ways and late night study groups and nervous habits before he passed another exam. Here on the edge, nothing precise and accurate. And this is being womanly, maybe, seeing random system patterns, bits and pieces; leaving room for rapid alterations and paradox, predictions that follow the wrong order, mismatched thoughts and behavior. Uncertainty. Constant. Reading comes easy, but learning doesn’t after all. Tests with no time to prepare, like this; she’s always got to be ready. She looks to Zoe and sees her turn her back without acknowledgement, no need to fuss; River did right, River’s reliable. She saved Mal, maybe-changed what happened, probably-the future never tells. It makes her feel right: that here in this moment, she didn’t fail. Always been a good student. Never needed to study so hard.
*
“Looks like we’re bound for New Phoenix,” Mal announces, satisfied, striding up the ramp to the cargo hold of Serenity. "Think we might put out the word we're accomodatin'."
"Hm," Zoe halts across from him, setting her feet. "Or we could look for something else to haul."
Mal cocks his head at her. "Think we ought to steer clear of passengers? Lucrative business."
"Trouble-making, too."
"You can say that again." Jayne looks at River.
She sets her feet like Zoe and turns her shoulders so only Jayne can hear. "I'll tell." Jayne's eyes flicker big, then he looks away.
"Least-wise, are you sure we want to recruit on New Hall?"
Mal shrugs. "Don't have a real pick o' of the litter on this one, Zoe. Got us a plan in mind and a new direction, but we still got three bunks empty for no good. This ship needs to be filled with whatever's paying and there ain't no way around."
Zoe glances away. "Might put Simon and Kaylee on the scoutin'."
"And I reckon I’ll have to go separate them from whatever it is they're doing," Mal sighs. "For now, we have a few hours to spend lookin' for honest work, cargo that needs hauling to New Phoenix, while Inara's keeping her appointment."
"What happens if we can't find what's honest?" Jayne asks.
Mal glances at Zoe; ain’t in his mind to ignore what has to be done, but no harm in shying from what cuts too close to her heart. She meets his gaze head on, mind blank as her face. Mal turns away, and Zoe moves on. "Jayne, let's go."
"Why I gotta go?" Jayne protests, just inside the shelter of the ship. "I'd rather be on the team that rousts out the good doctor.” He moves with intent just the same, follows directions. "At least let me get my guns!"
Mal looks down at River. "There somethin' needs tellin', darlin'?"
She grins. "No. All talk."
"Found a way to keep Jayne on the upright, that don’t involve slashin,' I can't hold it against you. Don't want to see you two come to bloodshed anymore."
River nods somberly. "I heed. I understand."
Mal's lips curve up gently. "Good to hear, sweetheart."
River bites her lips to keep from looking proud. She pleases him. "Can I come with you?"
"You ought to help your brother an' Kaylee, weed out the rough types. Scout the candidates for trouble." He steps toward her, puts his hand on her shoulder. "Have some dinner. That dress is about to fall off your shoulders." He steps back down the ramp, past her.
"Too big already," River says softly, watching him leave. No passengers to be had, nor no cargo neither. They’ll make do with what they got, have to hope the job’s still waiting in New Phoenix. She doesn’t tell him, though. Wants to be wrong; it’s a new hope in surprises. "Not made for me.”
*
New Phoenix is hot; a dry, prickly heat. River's hands grip the controls gently, and she knows something's wrong 'cause she's all knotted up inside. Is it the ship? Is it what's waiting? Is it her breakfast?
She eases just a foot above the landing portal, giving herself time to think it over, time waiting on Serenity to let her know if she wants to back out before it's too late. Mal waits patiently. "All right, Albatross?" he asks quietly.
"Likes to flirt a little before she gives it up," River replies.
Mal winces. "Hope to my Aunt Fanny you're talkin' 'bout the ship. Odd though it may seem."
Serenity eases in, pressing snug into the land-lock. River frees the toggle switch, waiting for the ship to settle. Mal leans forward to release the pressure and she grabs his hand. She means to make him wait, but as her mind jumps through the next steps in the landing, she sees something. "Not a mean man, just has his ways set." She looks up at Mal. "Selective when he works with people. Tell him you're a family business."
Mal appraises her silently for a moment, looking her in the eyes. She feels confusion, letting him see right inside. "You do, occasionally, come in downright handy, darlin'." He leans forward and she lets him hit the pressure switch, opening up the port air flow.
She considers. "Handy gadget," she repeats.
"Best compliment I know to give, darlin'," he calls over his shoulder as he leaves.
She looks down at her hands, scrutinizes them for their purpose. To have use; to be practical, and able to work. Strong in pieces, strong as a whole. They’re good hands.
Kaylee and Zoe nearly collide in the hatch to the cargo bay. "Thought the Captain didn't want to work with cattle no more," Kaylee murmurs. There's more behind her words, in her tentative eyes, and her fear to reach out. Girl can't look at Zoe without thinking of her loss, and Zoe knows it.
"Near enough to having no choice now, mei-mei," Zoe replies. Her choice of grief is ignorance. It don’t make no difference to her now, anyway, how other people react. Does her job, same as always, but Mal worries-and she lets him; somehow that's worse. Mal's never been much good, when it comes to cleaning up a mess. Zoe used to provide a steadiness to the ship, but no longer. She wobbles, has to run her hands along the gangplank; needs to hold on to something, and Serenity is all that’s left.
Kaylee watches her anxiously, arms folded tightly, setting herself at the top of the steps out of danger, like Mal always insists. River stands at her side for a moment; she still feels necessary. She slips around the other girl and down the steps before Kaylee can protest.
“A man who makes his living as a wanderer tends to be disreputable.” The new voice rings louder than River’s feet. "We've been hassled enough for one life time, unreliable types and men of shifty character. Business partnerships are the closest bond I make outside of marriage, and I put a good deal of stock in a man with a good foundation. I look at the character of a man first, before I put any worth in his organization. You say you're a family man yourself?"
Mal's determined to make this deal; has to, has to feed his people, his ship. Would lie, but something about "family man" makes him hesitate. Mal opens his mouth. River stops beside him. "As you can see," Zoe says instead, nodding her head at the others. "Unconventional, but family the way it counts."
"You're not related, then?" Mark Mattherson doubts, puts pieces together to make a picture that isn’t nice.
River smiles brilliantly. Knows the answer. She nods at Simon, standing nearby, looking wary. "My brother."
Mattherson smiles back. Can't help it; he likes her looks. Fresh face, not overly adorned. Clean green dress, wears it natural-like with no ornaments. Reminds him of his wife. Watches River step up to Mal’s side, slip her hand under his arm. Mal glances at her.
The man raises his hat over his brow, in a show of respect. "Good morning, ma'am. Pardon me for my manners. It sure is nice to see family working together. It’s become less and less common.”
"Have to hold onto what family you got; create a family with what you don't," River offers.
"Amen to that," Mattherson exclaims, still with a smile. "Well, sir.” He whips his hat against his hand and replaces it. “Maybe we can do business. I’m short handed this season.” He nods. “My wife and I would invite y’all to stay back at the ranch until the job’s done, and soon as the cattle are back and branded, I’ll be needing them transported and I’ll sure take a look at those buyers you brought me.”
Mal nods, snapping back to the terms. “If I take your meaning correctly, you’ll be expecting me and my people to work on this cattle drive, then, Mr. Mattherson?”
“That’s the size of it, son. If you and yours can’t butt an extra three or so of my empty saddles, you might as well turn tail now. You ride range with my crew and me during this drive, help us bring our herd back over the ridge of those mountains, I’ll provide rations for riders and keep for them that aren’t fit for the trip. I can guarantee you a fair wage for riding with me.”
Mal clears his throat. “Zoe?” He casts a glance to his right.
“Sounds doable, sir,” she replies, unmoved.
“Well, we’ll talk it over up to the ranch,” Mattherson says. “I know my Mindy would sure enjoy meeting you and your little wife, Mr. Reynolds.”
"My wife? My wife," Mal repeats, hurriedly. He looks again at Zoe, and she takes a step backward: not getting involved.
"New wife," says River. "Brand new, really."
"Is that so?” Mr. Mattherson grins. “Well, you’re all invited. I’d sure like to hear more about how you do your work, sir.”
Mal nods, clearing his thoughts: there’s work to be had, and that’s all. "Just point the way, Mr. Mattherson. My crew’s more’n ready for some leisure.”
"It's just on the far west side of town, can't miss it. We got acres of pipe fencing." Mattherson turns to go. "Be looking forward to seeing all of you, don't be late, y'hear?"
Mal clenches his jaw, watching Mattherson walk away. Have to get the contract. Have to make money, have to eat. He looks at River, furrows his brow. Takes her hand off his arm, carefully.
River looks up at him innocently. "Just play-acting."
Simon blurts out, “River! Haven’t we talked about playing and reality? You can’t-“
Zoe purses her lips. "He did seem to take a shine to River, sir."
"You really gonna lie to the man, Captain?" Kaylee asks, doubtful. Looks at River, thinks she might be confused, might throw the plan off.
"Won't hurt nothin', little Kaylee," Mal says, though it prickles the hair at the back of his neck. Don’t like trickery and deceit. Man likes to be upfront about things, feelings and meaning and his deeds. "We get the job, we do it. Don't have a thing to do with whether or not I got a wife or the man thinks we’re decent."
Simon swallows. "I don't think I like this."
River doesn't look away from Mal. "Not for you to say."
Mal's gaze turns on her. "You behave."
She tilts her head and raises her left hand. "Hand's naked. Need a ring."
*
Plenty to do around the ranch, too, so Simon stays and finds new patients, and Kaylee promises to keep an eye on the ship-help Simon, more like, get in the way, but enjoy herself, so Mal just nods at this. Mindy Mattherson is the rancher’s wife and she’s riding like the rest of them, playing cook and turning her hand gentle on the camp, setting the tone for the hired men. "I'm going, too," River insists. Simon starts to raise his objections, but Mal shakes his head.
"Far as I know, River, you don't know much about riding herd."
"Match your steps, watch for strays. Have a soft seat, won't fall behind. I want the black one,” she requests, gazing over the horses circling the corral. No thought for the future; waiting to be assigned.
Mal exchanges a look with Zoe; she shrugs. "Let the girl ride. Do a sight better than Jayne, I reckon. Earn an extra pay."
Mal nods. “Well, let’s see.”
“River...” Simon pulls at her arm.
“Bodies are made to bend," River replies. "More useful. Have to practice. Once a week...or more often.” She looks at her brother knowingly. “Never had to saddle my own, never had to care for him when he was ailing. Not really mine. No hard work."
Simon sighs, releases her arm. “You really loved riding lessons, didn’t you,” he remembers. She grins, and ducks inside the white fence.
Mal watches her scamper toward him, holding the black horse. "Got some breeches, darlin'?"
She stops to look the animal in the eye, say howdy, exchange scent. She glances at Mal over the forelock. “Could wear yours.”
“Think so, do you?” Mal doesn’t look impressed, and River tucks her head into the horse’s neck.
“Maybe not. Too big to fit.”
Mal raises an eyebrow. “Hesitate to ask whether you’re referring to me or the britches, but I s’pect we can find you something in town.” He glances at Simon, glances at his clenched fists. “Safe enough, I ‘magine.”
"What if it isn't?" River counters.
"Stay close to me," Mal suggests.
"Always."
River ponders his face, casual say-so, just a passing thought. Another obligation, have to outfit the girl. Obligation. Take money from a man and you were bound to him, like it or not. “Think you have to take care of me, Captain?” she murmurs, softly, rubbing her lips against the horse’s muzzle. The horse likes her. They get along fine.
Mal shifts his weight to his other leg and lets the horse duck its head lower to the ground; lazy and content in the heat. Reads the horse like she reads the man. Sometimes things surprise you, though, so he still holds tight on the halter as he meets her eyes. “Reckon that’s my job, sweetheart. Take care of my crew. You’re part of my crew, ain’t ya?”
She nods quickly. “Yes, Captain.”
He nods back, shortly. Moving on to the next thing; not the time to stop and talk over subjects best taken for granted; not time to linger over a thought about Simon, what would happen should her brother get a damn-fool idea in his head about moving on.
Still, River smiles peacefully, because Simon’s happy-not content, but happy, not always looking for the next thing-and she’s crew like anyone else. Mal asked, didn’t tell, and she knew the right answer when he posed the question. Passed the test.
River curls her hand in the mare's black mane, calculating the angle and force to jump up from the ground. Mal hoists her, one-legged, saddle hard between her bare legs, skirt riding far up her thigh. Mal raises his face to hers, eyes in the sun. She leans down to throw a shadow, watching it fall over his face; leans her cheek against the withers.
“What makes you so happy, little one?” Mal asks, looked startled with his face so close, so sudden-like.
She rolls her cheek against the horse’s hide. “Happy is a momentary lapse of anxiety. Caused by warm sun, horse smell, your pretty eyes. Enjoying the moment.”
His eyebrows raise. “Pretty?” His voice goes dry and smirking like it does when he mocks compliments by teasing. She puts her hand on the back of his neck, hot-too hot, he would burn there, pink skin unused to planetside weather-sweaty around his collar and under his hair, and kisses him firmly at the very center of his forehead, sweaty there, too, felt the slight curve of his skull and brushes the raised eyebrows as she pulls away.
“Lapse of anxiety,” she repeats. “You should try it sometime.” Sits up, high on the horse, fingers twisted close to the root of the long, rough hair. Mal’s fingers graze her bare thigh. Affection, kindness: can be shared.
*
Simon would try to help her, if he knew. He doesn’t, though, and this is something River must know for herself. Mother used to give her endless bottles of things, different scents, offered lessons-what this scent said, why a girl should smell of musk and citrus or sandalwood and lavender, age appropriate. River attended tea parties artfully arrayed and came home mussed, asked for new books instead of gloves or heels on her boots. Her hair went tangled and her clothes immodest, never so bad as they are right now, rough tangles that don’t come out with a brush. Does her hair say something about her that’s false? Her shapeless dress, her new pants cinched around the waist under a button-front shirt. Only thing she cares about are her great big boots-Mal’s choice.
Simon at the door, softly tapping. “Come in, Simon. I’m not naked.”
He slides the door softly, pokes his head in sheepishly. "How are you doing, mei-mei?" Forced to ask these questions now that he spends so much time away from her. She knows he hates it. Makes him feel incompetent. He's always been that way: can't focus on two things. Moment by moment, solves problems methodically.
"Better than some, not as relaxed as you."
Simon's gaze flutters away from hers quickly, then back. He clears his throat. "That's not exactly an appropriate conversational topic between brothers and sisters, River."
She makes a face. "'Proper way to do' is stiff. Jokes are more fun." She smirks.
Simon stares at her.
"Found something else you're good at," she teases.
Simon clenches his jaw and wards off a blush. He must be very determined, only way it would work. "River, I don't-- back home, we wouldn't--"
She puts her hand over his mouth, barely touches his face with the tips of her fingers. "There's no going back. Only forward. Home is where we put it."
His eyes flicker. She frowns, confused. "You aren't happy."
"No, I am..." Simon's instant denial falls like pebbles in a stream. Plop, plop.
"Always looking forward, never quiet where he is," River says. Her voice falls. "Does it ever get better?"
Simon runs his hand through the hair behind her ear, looking at her seriously. "I'm sorry, River. *You* are happy. That makes me happy."
"Can't help it, Simon. I know what else could have happened."
He pauses. "You mean--before. With the Operative."
She looks at him, picturing his words and what they encompass: pain and loneliness, being hopeless or passive. Death. Her eyes fill with tears. "Might not get better. Might get worse," she whispers. "Right now it isn't." She grasps his hand on her cheek. "Now no one's dying. Now no one is in pain." Her eyes look off into the distance. Serenity encompasses them, below and around and above their heads. Serenity forgets the bad things once she’s flown past. "We're still flying."
"You sound an awful lot like the Captain," Simon says, looking right past the point.
"Good person to sound like," River replies.
Simon smiles faintly. He drops his hand and starts folding her things. Her room is a mess. "You have to go to an awfully bitter place to feel that way, mei-mei. And, apparently, one where you stop picking up after yourself. We have no maids on this ship, River."
"It was an experiment."
Simon looks at her without raising his chin. "A *scientific* experiment?" He gets up and starts putting things away. She says nothing and watches at he makes stacks of her dresses. The yellow one, the red one, the black on top. He folds the drawer back into the wall with care; turns back with a serious face. "How long did it take me to notice?"
River shrugs.
"Look, River...just because I'm spending a lot of time with Kaylee, that doesn't mean I'm not here for you. I'll drop anything to listen if you need me, you know that, right?"
"Don't be stupid, Simon," River says. "Not jealous. I have my own things to do," she reminds him impatiently.
Simon raises his eyebrows and grimaces. "Yes..." His disapproval flares bright and angry before her eyes, much louder than he intended.
"Don't ruin it, Simon," River warns him. "It's not the season." She drops her brush, lets it fall where it may, lets Simon’s mind change the subject as he watches. Her brother may keep his thoughts, may worry and wonder what to say. Without action, emotion is invalid. Nullified. Made nothing. Her brother came for her and her parents did not. Her brother sleeps with Kaylee and Mal stays away from Inara. Quantifiers which add up to some result--but the answer is not always predictable. “It’s time for a last breakfast,” she adds, and leaves him there, in her room, staring at the brush, wondering if it’s his job to do it for her or his job to let her make her own choices. He follows after a moment, and she wonders-but not too long. Kaylee joins them on their way, lighting up like always when she sees Simon.
Lust and romance and kissing and sex were abstract concepts River's whole life up 'til now. First there was no interest, nothing compelling about any of it-trash on the cortex that didn’t seem very titillating, friends of her brother who teased, talked about breasts, tried to be manly when they pulled on the hem of her dress-then there was Academy, and everything after. Love. She loves Serenity. She loves her brother. When she presses her chest to the floor in the air duct, stretches herself out on her belly, she presses her lips to cold metal and re-evaluates the value of knowledge-book knowledge, taught without love. She would have no life now if Simon had not love. Still out of her reach, though-the different kinds, Inara and her clients; Zoe and Mal; Simon and Kaylee; like Serenity, she observes but does not comprehend.
Mal and Zoe and Jayne sit around the table, and Mal eyes the hash. “This all we can scrounge up in the face of our good fortune?” he demands, not with rancor. “Looks like Jayne sat in it again.”
Kaylee giggles. “We’ll be eatin’ fine soon as you all leave us, staying up at the big house. Simon’s managed to make himself real important to the household, doctoring and fine manners and all.” She leans into Simon for a moment, sliding her hand around his backside and tilting her face up like she’d give him a kiss, if only he’d lean down closer. Her fingers dragging across his shirt leave scars, imprint too close to the surface of his skin, how far they could go and have gone before. River sits down hard and Mal glances at her.
Simon looks embarrassed and clears his throat. “I haven’t had a lot of mending to do around here lately, fortunately.”
Jayne stabs a biscuit, watching them, scowling. "T'aint right to ruin a man's breakfast. Do your sexin’ in your own bunk."
“Ain’t doin’ nothin’, Jayne,” Kaylee squeals, pulling Simon down onto the bench with her. "Anyhow, sex over breakfast has never bothered you before."
"That was when I was the one bein' sexed," Jayne grumbles. He washes back a spoonful of mushy protein and gulps. "Way I see it, the men on this ship is outnumbered an' only one of us is seein' service. Just ain't right." He shakes his head mournfully.
"Mathematically correct," River speaks up. "Someone should service Jayne. Make him feel better."
"River!" Simon is aghast.
"What? Endorphins."
Jayne looks pleased by her support. "You wanna volunteer, little girl?"
"Hey," Simon and Mal say sharply. Around the edges, their table stirs.
River smiles to herself. She rolls her eyes up to Jayne's face, seeing his thoughts are shapeless, the problem not fully-formed. "Touch me and die," she admonishes him quietly. "Not meant for you."
Simon’s concern washes over her briefly: not meant for him, must be meant for someone else; thoughts about the future, quickly shoved aside by Kaylee’s laugh and left in River’s head instead. She stares at Jayne-he won’t meet her eyes, not quite-and wonders what makes a man a different sort of subject to a girl from one day to the next. There are no separate factors, just different feelings and different actions. Just moving parts.
*
Part two
Author: natalexx
Pairing: Mal/River, River POV
Spoilers: Entire series, and the movie. Set post-Serenity.
Summary: “In the space for uncertainty, there is hope for River.”
Word count: ~ 25,000 (complete, posted in 5 parts for length)
Beta: jazzfic, who was very patient with sometimes unconventional grammar. Her thoroughness cannot be blamed for any remaining errors.
Title inspired by the Joss Stone song. Way back when I started the first draft of this, I also made a soundtrack, which-for reference-is here. Unfortunately, I cannot re-upload as I have no access to my music at this time.
So, I started this fic way back in 2005. I feel like I should have a length preface to go with it, but mostly I just want to get it posted. This is essentially my ‘shipper magnum opus.
Part one
Jayne hovers at her side, falling behind Zoe’s marching stride. “Got no call to spread tales ‘bout what happened yesterday, girlie,” he says. River raises an eyebrow, looks him up and down. She is silent.
“Come on now, River. You’re the one crawlin’ around inside the ship. Ain’t my fault you ain’t normal. I don’t go sneakin’ around and peekin’ at nobody by my own self.”
He watches the grass, uncomfortably. Little sprouts of tiny weeds, not very green. Glares at her out of the corner of his eyes. On the cusp of embarrassment; makes him mean. She smiles.
“Keep your gun in sight and bite your lip.” She judges his reaction; thinks she understands, the line between things there to see for anyone and things only she can.
He blinks at her. "Now that's just--that ain't right," he stammers, thinking about the air duct over his own bunk.
She shrugs. "Seen it all before," she says simply.
Horrified, he won't be able to undress in his bunk for a week. She doesn’t think that’s too long to make him suffer. He thought she could hurt Serenity, play games with her insides, make them all fall out of the sky. The air ducts are her conduit and she must learn; there is no wrong way to gather information. “I’m no gorram fool,” she tells him. This is anger. Makes him look away from her, makes him embarrassed: different from seeing Kaylee and Simon naked and flush. Seems appropriate.
She skips ahead of Jayne, to concentrate: she has to get it right; has to earn her keep like she promised Mal. Newhall is a beautiful planet with hills and trees, but the wind is empty of music and River doesn’t like it. In the void beyond her physical sight, in the blank between what has happened and what must come, something is lurking. Something means the job won't go smooth for Mal. One minute she can't see it; next she knows, but more importantly she knows that she must hurry. It’s not right to steal Zoe’s gun from her holster, but it must be done; River may hurt her bare feet not watching for rocks as she runs up the grassy knoll, but Simon must be convinced that it was more important to interrupt before the man shoots the captain.
Zoe and Jayne stop short at her side; River hands Zoe her gun back. The wind is still forlorn, but River finds she doesn’t share its emptiness. Mal climbs up off the ground in the shallow ravine below them and dusts off his pants, looking up at them all the while.
“You all right?” Zoe calls down.
“Am now,” Mal replies. “Like to part my hair with that one, darlin’,” he says to River. Reaction is necessary, and she smiles, because Mal smiled up at her, squinting from the sun but not imminent death. "Well." He turns back to their contract buyer. "Now that my business associates are here to keep us company, what was that you were about to enlighten me about as to the terms of our bargain?"
Zoe's expression is hard; she fingers her weapon like she has half a mind to use it. She meets River's eyes but they don't have to share words. River understands. If Mal wasn’t living, she’d just stop. Might be a world without hope in it now, but she has to find meaning somewhere; elsewise there’s nothing: dark and empty. Like the blackness of space without a ship to cleave to.
But they have a deal to make, and no more options. Ain’t no man can finagle a double-deal back to straight and narrow like Mal. She knows as well as Zoe; they exchange the thought momentarily, eye to eye. Makes River think, maybe, this is what it’s like. Not like being a girl, confident that she’s able to leap beyond all explanation; no need to write things down, because she already sees the answers. Knowledge always available; long as it was in reach she could understand-everything except Simon and his bookish ways and late night study groups and nervous habits before he passed another exam. Here on the edge, nothing precise and accurate. And this is being womanly, maybe, seeing random system patterns, bits and pieces; leaving room for rapid alterations and paradox, predictions that follow the wrong order, mismatched thoughts and behavior. Uncertainty. Constant. Reading comes easy, but learning doesn’t after all. Tests with no time to prepare, like this; she’s always got to be ready. She looks to Zoe and sees her turn her back without acknowledgement, no need to fuss; River did right, River’s reliable. She saved Mal, maybe-changed what happened, probably-the future never tells. It makes her feel right: that here in this moment, she didn’t fail. Always been a good student. Never needed to study so hard.
*
“Looks like we’re bound for New Phoenix,” Mal announces, satisfied, striding up the ramp to the cargo hold of Serenity. "Think we might put out the word we're accomodatin'."
"Hm," Zoe halts across from him, setting her feet. "Or we could look for something else to haul."
Mal cocks his head at her. "Think we ought to steer clear of passengers? Lucrative business."
"Trouble-making, too."
"You can say that again." Jayne looks at River.
She sets her feet like Zoe and turns her shoulders so only Jayne can hear. "I'll tell." Jayne's eyes flicker big, then he looks away.
"Least-wise, are you sure we want to recruit on New Hall?"
Mal shrugs. "Don't have a real pick o' of the litter on this one, Zoe. Got us a plan in mind and a new direction, but we still got three bunks empty for no good. This ship needs to be filled with whatever's paying and there ain't no way around."
Zoe glances away. "Might put Simon and Kaylee on the scoutin'."
"And I reckon I’ll have to go separate them from whatever it is they're doing," Mal sighs. "For now, we have a few hours to spend lookin' for honest work, cargo that needs hauling to New Phoenix, while Inara's keeping her appointment."
"What happens if we can't find what's honest?" Jayne asks.
Mal glances at Zoe; ain’t in his mind to ignore what has to be done, but no harm in shying from what cuts too close to her heart. She meets his gaze head on, mind blank as her face. Mal turns away, and Zoe moves on. "Jayne, let's go."
"Why I gotta go?" Jayne protests, just inside the shelter of the ship. "I'd rather be on the team that rousts out the good doctor.” He moves with intent just the same, follows directions. "At least let me get my guns!"
Mal looks down at River. "There somethin' needs tellin', darlin'?"
She grins. "No. All talk."
"Found a way to keep Jayne on the upright, that don’t involve slashin,' I can't hold it against you. Don't want to see you two come to bloodshed anymore."
River nods somberly. "I heed. I understand."
Mal's lips curve up gently. "Good to hear, sweetheart."
River bites her lips to keep from looking proud. She pleases him. "Can I come with you?"
"You ought to help your brother an' Kaylee, weed out the rough types. Scout the candidates for trouble." He steps toward her, puts his hand on her shoulder. "Have some dinner. That dress is about to fall off your shoulders." He steps back down the ramp, past her.
"Too big already," River says softly, watching him leave. No passengers to be had, nor no cargo neither. They’ll make do with what they got, have to hope the job’s still waiting in New Phoenix. She doesn’t tell him, though. Wants to be wrong; it’s a new hope in surprises. "Not made for me.”
*
New Phoenix is hot; a dry, prickly heat. River's hands grip the controls gently, and she knows something's wrong 'cause she's all knotted up inside. Is it the ship? Is it what's waiting? Is it her breakfast?
She eases just a foot above the landing portal, giving herself time to think it over, time waiting on Serenity to let her know if she wants to back out before it's too late. Mal waits patiently. "All right, Albatross?" he asks quietly.
"Likes to flirt a little before she gives it up," River replies.
Mal winces. "Hope to my Aunt Fanny you're talkin' 'bout the ship. Odd though it may seem."
Serenity eases in, pressing snug into the land-lock. River frees the toggle switch, waiting for the ship to settle. Mal leans forward to release the pressure and she grabs his hand. She means to make him wait, but as her mind jumps through the next steps in the landing, she sees something. "Not a mean man, just has his ways set." She looks up at Mal. "Selective when he works with people. Tell him you're a family business."
Mal appraises her silently for a moment, looking her in the eyes. She feels confusion, letting him see right inside. "You do, occasionally, come in downright handy, darlin'." He leans forward and she lets him hit the pressure switch, opening up the port air flow.
She considers. "Handy gadget," she repeats.
"Best compliment I know to give, darlin'," he calls over his shoulder as he leaves.
She looks down at her hands, scrutinizes them for their purpose. To have use; to be practical, and able to work. Strong in pieces, strong as a whole. They’re good hands.
Kaylee and Zoe nearly collide in the hatch to the cargo bay. "Thought the Captain didn't want to work with cattle no more," Kaylee murmurs. There's more behind her words, in her tentative eyes, and her fear to reach out. Girl can't look at Zoe without thinking of her loss, and Zoe knows it.
"Near enough to having no choice now, mei-mei," Zoe replies. Her choice of grief is ignorance. It don’t make no difference to her now, anyway, how other people react. Does her job, same as always, but Mal worries-and she lets him; somehow that's worse. Mal's never been much good, when it comes to cleaning up a mess. Zoe used to provide a steadiness to the ship, but no longer. She wobbles, has to run her hands along the gangplank; needs to hold on to something, and Serenity is all that’s left.
Kaylee watches her anxiously, arms folded tightly, setting herself at the top of the steps out of danger, like Mal always insists. River stands at her side for a moment; she still feels necessary. She slips around the other girl and down the steps before Kaylee can protest.
“A man who makes his living as a wanderer tends to be disreputable.” The new voice rings louder than River’s feet. "We've been hassled enough for one life time, unreliable types and men of shifty character. Business partnerships are the closest bond I make outside of marriage, and I put a good deal of stock in a man with a good foundation. I look at the character of a man first, before I put any worth in his organization. You say you're a family man yourself?"
Mal's determined to make this deal; has to, has to feed his people, his ship. Would lie, but something about "family man" makes him hesitate. Mal opens his mouth. River stops beside him. "As you can see," Zoe says instead, nodding her head at the others. "Unconventional, but family the way it counts."
"You're not related, then?" Mark Mattherson doubts, puts pieces together to make a picture that isn’t nice.
River smiles brilliantly. Knows the answer. She nods at Simon, standing nearby, looking wary. "My brother."
Mattherson smiles back. Can't help it; he likes her looks. Fresh face, not overly adorned. Clean green dress, wears it natural-like with no ornaments. Reminds him of his wife. Watches River step up to Mal’s side, slip her hand under his arm. Mal glances at her.
The man raises his hat over his brow, in a show of respect. "Good morning, ma'am. Pardon me for my manners. It sure is nice to see family working together. It’s become less and less common.”
"Have to hold onto what family you got; create a family with what you don't," River offers.
"Amen to that," Mattherson exclaims, still with a smile. "Well, sir.” He whips his hat against his hand and replaces it. “Maybe we can do business. I’m short handed this season.” He nods. “My wife and I would invite y’all to stay back at the ranch until the job’s done, and soon as the cattle are back and branded, I’ll be needing them transported and I’ll sure take a look at those buyers you brought me.”
Mal nods, snapping back to the terms. “If I take your meaning correctly, you’ll be expecting me and my people to work on this cattle drive, then, Mr. Mattherson?”
“That’s the size of it, son. If you and yours can’t butt an extra three or so of my empty saddles, you might as well turn tail now. You ride range with my crew and me during this drive, help us bring our herd back over the ridge of those mountains, I’ll provide rations for riders and keep for them that aren’t fit for the trip. I can guarantee you a fair wage for riding with me.”
Mal clears his throat. “Zoe?” He casts a glance to his right.
“Sounds doable, sir,” she replies, unmoved.
“Well, we’ll talk it over up to the ranch,” Mattherson says. “I know my Mindy would sure enjoy meeting you and your little wife, Mr. Reynolds.”
"My wife? My wife," Mal repeats, hurriedly. He looks again at Zoe, and she takes a step backward: not getting involved.
"New wife," says River. "Brand new, really."
"Is that so?” Mr. Mattherson grins. “Well, you’re all invited. I’d sure like to hear more about how you do your work, sir.”
Mal nods, clearing his thoughts: there’s work to be had, and that’s all. "Just point the way, Mr. Mattherson. My crew’s more’n ready for some leisure.”
"It's just on the far west side of town, can't miss it. We got acres of pipe fencing." Mattherson turns to go. "Be looking forward to seeing all of you, don't be late, y'hear?"
Mal clenches his jaw, watching Mattherson walk away. Have to get the contract. Have to make money, have to eat. He looks at River, furrows his brow. Takes her hand off his arm, carefully.
River looks up at him innocently. "Just play-acting."
Simon blurts out, “River! Haven’t we talked about playing and reality? You can’t-“
Zoe purses her lips. "He did seem to take a shine to River, sir."
"You really gonna lie to the man, Captain?" Kaylee asks, doubtful. Looks at River, thinks she might be confused, might throw the plan off.
"Won't hurt nothin', little Kaylee," Mal says, though it prickles the hair at the back of his neck. Don’t like trickery and deceit. Man likes to be upfront about things, feelings and meaning and his deeds. "We get the job, we do it. Don't have a thing to do with whether or not I got a wife or the man thinks we’re decent."
Simon swallows. "I don't think I like this."
River doesn't look away from Mal. "Not for you to say."
Mal's gaze turns on her. "You behave."
She tilts her head and raises her left hand. "Hand's naked. Need a ring."
*
Plenty to do around the ranch, too, so Simon stays and finds new patients, and Kaylee promises to keep an eye on the ship-help Simon, more like, get in the way, but enjoy herself, so Mal just nods at this. Mindy Mattherson is the rancher’s wife and she’s riding like the rest of them, playing cook and turning her hand gentle on the camp, setting the tone for the hired men. "I'm going, too," River insists. Simon starts to raise his objections, but Mal shakes his head.
"Far as I know, River, you don't know much about riding herd."
"Match your steps, watch for strays. Have a soft seat, won't fall behind. I want the black one,” she requests, gazing over the horses circling the corral. No thought for the future; waiting to be assigned.
Mal exchanges a look with Zoe; she shrugs. "Let the girl ride. Do a sight better than Jayne, I reckon. Earn an extra pay."
Mal nods. “Well, let’s see.”
“River...” Simon pulls at her arm.
“Bodies are made to bend," River replies. "More useful. Have to practice. Once a week...or more often.” She looks at her brother knowingly. “Never had to saddle my own, never had to care for him when he was ailing. Not really mine. No hard work."
Simon sighs, releases her arm. “You really loved riding lessons, didn’t you,” he remembers. She grins, and ducks inside the white fence.
Mal watches her scamper toward him, holding the black horse. "Got some breeches, darlin'?"
She stops to look the animal in the eye, say howdy, exchange scent. She glances at Mal over the forelock. “Could wear yours.”
“Think so, do you?” Mal doesn’t look impressed, and River tucks her head into the horse’s neck.
“Maybe not. Too big to fit.”
Mal raises an eyebrow. “Hesitate to ask whether you’re referring to me or the britches, but I s’pect we can find you something in town.” He glances at Simon, glances at his clenched fists. “Safe enough, I ‘magine.”
"What if it isn't?" River counters.
"Stay close to me," Mal suggests.
"Always."
River ponders his face, casual say-so, just a passing thought. Another obligation, have to outfit the girl. Obligation. Take money from a man and you were bound to him, like it or not. “Think you have to take care of me, Captain?” she murmurs, softly, rubbing her lips against the horse’s muzzle. The horse likes her. They get along fine.
Mal shifts his weight to his other leg and lets the horse duck its head lower to the ground; lazy and content in the heat. Reads the horse like she reads the man. Sometimes things surprise you, though, so he still holds tight on the halter as he meets her eyes. “Reckon that’s my job, sweetheart. Take care of my crew. You’re part of my crew, ain’t ya?”
She nods quickly. “Yes, Captain.”
He nods back, shortly. Moving on to the next thing; not the time to stop and talk over subjects best taken for granted; not time to linger over a thought about Simon, what would happen should her brother get a damn-fool idea in his head about moving on.
Still, River smiles peacefully, because Simon’s happy-not content, but happy, not always looking for the next thing-and she’s crew like anyone else. Mal asked, didn’t tell, and she knew the right answer when he posed the question. Passed the test.
River curls her hand in the mare's black mane, calculating the angle and force to jump up from the ground. Mal hoists her, one-legged, saddle hard between her bare legs, skirt riding far up her thigh. Mal raises his face to hers, eyes in the sun. She leans down to throw a shadow, watching it fall over his face; leans her cheek against the withers.
“What makes you so happy, little one?” Mal asks, looked startled with his face so close, so sudden-like.
She rolls her cheek against the horse’s hide. “Happy is a momentary lapse of anxiety. Caused by warm sun, horse smell, your pretty eyes. Enjoying the moment.”
His eyebrows raise. “Pretty?” His voice goes dry and smirking like it does when he mocks compliments by teasing. She puts her hand on the back of his neck, hot-too hot, he would burn there, pink skin unused to planetside weather-sweaty around his collar and under his hair, and kisses him firmly at the very center of his forehead, sweaty there, too, felt the slight curve of his skull and brushes the raised eyebrows as she pulls away.
“Lapse of anxiety,” she repeats. “You should try it sometime.” Sits up, high on the horse, fingers twisted close to the root of the long, rough hair. Mal’s fingers graze her bare thigh. Affection, kindness: can be shared.
*
Simon would try to help her, if he knew. He doesn’t, though, and this is something River must know for herself. Mother used to give her endless bottles of things, different scents, offered lessons-what this scent said, why a girl should smell of musk and citrus or sandalwood and lavender, age appropriate. River attended tea parties artfully arrayed and came home mussed, asked for new books instead of gloves or heels on her boots. Her hair went tangled and her clothes immodest, never so bad as they are right now, rough tangles that don’t come out with a brush. Does her hair say something about her that’s false? Her shapeless dress, her new pants cinched around the waist under a button-front shirt. Only thing she cares about are her great big boots-Mal’s choice.
Simon at the door, softly tapping. “Come in, Simon. I’m not naked.”
He slides the door softly, pokes his head in sheepishly. "How are you doing, mei-mei?" Forced to ask these questions now that he spends so much time away from her. She knows he hates it. Makes him feel incompetent. He's always been that way: can't focus on two things. Moment by moment, solves problems methodically.
"Better than some, not as relaxed as you."
Simon's gaze flutters away from hers quickly, then back. He clears his throat. "That's not exactly an appropriate conversational topic between brothers and sisters, River."
She makes a face. "'Proper way to do' is stiff. Jokes are more fun." She smirks.
Simon stares at her.
"Found something else you're good at," she teases.
Simon clenches his jaw and wards off a blush. He must be very determined, only way it would work. "River, I don't-- back home, we wouldn't--"
She puts her hand over his mouth, barely touches his face with the tips of her fingers. "There's no going back. Only forward. Home is where we put it."
His eyes flicker. She frowns, confused. "You aren't happy."
"No, I am..." Simon's instant denial falls like pebbles in a stream. Plop, plop.
"Always looking forward, never quiet where he is," River says. Her voice falls. "Does it ever get better?"
Simon runs his hand through the hair behind her ear, looking at her seriously. "I'm sorry, River. *You* are happy. That makes me happy."
"Can't help it, Simon. I know what else could have happened."
He pauses. "You mean--before. With the Operative."
She looks at him, picturing his words and what they encompass: pain and loneliness, being hopeless or passive. Death. Her eyes fill with tears. "Might not get better. Might get worse," she whispers. "Right now it isn't." She grasps his hand on her cheek. "Now no one's dying. Now no one is in pain." Her eyes look off into the distance. Serenity encompasses them, below and around and above their heads. Serenity forgets the bad things once she’s flown past. "We're still flying."
"You sound an awful lot like the Captain," Simon says, looking right past the point.
"Good person to sound like," River replies.
Simon smiles faintly. He drops his hand and starts folding her things. Her room is a mess. "You have to go to an awfully bitter place to feel that way, mei-mei. And, apparently, one where you stop picking up after yourself. We have no maids on this ship, River."
"It was an experiment."
Simon looks at her without raising his chin. "A *scientific* experiment?" He gets up and starts putting things away. She says nothing and watches at he makes stacks of her dresses. The yellow one, the red one, the black on top. He folds the drawer back into the wall with care; turns back with a serious face. "How long did it take me to notice?"
River shrugs.
"Look, River...just because I'm spending a lot of time with Kaylee, that doesn't mean I'm not here for you. I'll drop anything to listen if you need me, you know that, right?"
"Don't be stupid, Simon," River says. "Not jealous. I have my own things to do," she reminds him impatiently.
Simon raises his eyebrows and grimaces. "Yes..." His disapproval flares bright and angry before her eyes, much louder than he intended.
"Don't ruin it, Simon," River warns him. "It's not the season." She drops her brush, lets it fall where it may, lets Simon’s mind change the subject as he watches. Her brother may keep his thoughts, may worry and wonder what to say. Without action, emotion is invalid. Nullified. Made nothing. Her brother came for her and her parents did not. Her brother sleeps with Kaylee and Mal stays away from Inara. Quantifiers which add up to some result--but the answer is not always predictable. “It’s time for a last breakfast,” she adds, and leaves him there, in her room, staring at the brush, wondering if it’s his job to do it for her or his job to let her make her own choices. He follows after a moment, and she wonders-but not too long. Kaylee joins them on their way, lighting up like always when she sees Simon.
Lust and romance and kissing and sex were abstract concepts River's whole life up 'til now. First there was no interest, nothing compelling about any of it-trash on the cortex that didn’t seem very titillating, friends of her brother who teased, talked about breasts, tried to be manly when they pulled on the hem of her dress-then there was Academy, and everything after. Love. She loves Serenity. She loves her brother. When she presses her chest to the floor in the air duct, stretches herself out on her belly, she presses her lips to cold metal and re-evaluates the value of knowledge-book knowledge, taught without love. She would have no life now if Simon had not love. Still out of her reach, though-the different kinds, Inara and her clients; Zoe and Mal; Simon and Kaylee; like Serenity, she observes but does not comprehend.
Mal and Zoe and Jayne sit around the table, and Mal eyes the hash. “This all we can scrounge up in the face of our good fortune?” he demands, not with rancor. “Looks like Jayne sat in it again.”
Kaylee giggles. “We’ll be eatin’ fine soon as you all leave us, staying up at the big house. Simon’s managed to make himself real important to the household, doctoring and fine manners and all.” She leans into Simon for a moment, sliding her hand around his backside and tilting her face up like she’d give him a kiss, if only he’d lean down closer. Her fingers dragging across his shirt leave scars, imprint too close to the surface of his skin, how far they could go and have gone before. River sits down hard and Mal glances at her.
Simon looks embarrassed and clears his throat. “I haven’t had a lot of mending to do around here lately, fortunately.”
Jayne stabs a biscuit, watching them, scowling. "T'aint right to ruin a man's breakfast. Do your sexin’ in your own bunk."
“Ain’t doin’ nothin’, Jayne,” Kaylee squeals, pulling Simon down onto the bench with her. "Anyhow, sex over breakfast has never bothered you before."
"That was when I was the one bein' sexed," Jayne grumbles. He washes back a spoonful of mushy protein and gulps. "Way I see it, the men on this ship is outnumbered an' only one of us is seein' service. Just ain't right." He shakes his head mournfully.
"Mathematically correct," River speaks up. "Someone should service Jayne. Make him feel better."
"River!" Simon is aghast.
"What? Endorphins."
Jayne looks pleased by her support. "You wanna volunteer, little girl?"
"Hey," Simon and Mal say sharply. Around the edges, their table stirs.
River smiles to herself. She rolls her eyes up to Jayne's face, seeing his thoughts are shapeless, the problem not fully-formed. "Touch me and die," she admonishes him quietly. "Not meant for you."
Simon’s concern washes over her briefly: not meant for him, must be meant for someone else; thoughts about the future, quickly shoved aside by Kaylee’s laugh and left in River’s head instead. She stares at Jayne-he won’t meet her eyes, not quite-and wonders what makes a man a different sort of subject to a girl from one day to the next. There are no separate factors, just different feelings and different actions. Just moving parts.
*
Part two