FIC: Security (4/5)
Part one
Part two
Part three
Part four
She knows his patterns; knows when it’s time to stay away, provide space. Knows when he balks he’ll hold steady; knows when a straight path will turn astray; even knows he’s unpredictable just to be contrary. Mal walks through the ship, checking bits and pieces. Laying his hands on, like something holy, like belief; thinks about Shepherd Book. Pokes his head in the engine room, makes sure there ain't thing he don't wanna be seein'. Watches the engine turn. Rests eyes on what parts he knows names of. Walks over the silent cargo bay, roams the wide open spaces between the walls; feels its emptiness like a gutting hole inside him, shoves it aside; prepared as it’s going to be.
When they dock again, Mattherson is there to meet them; temporary corrals bend and tremble in their wake, filled to the brim with cattle lowing. River reins herself in tightly, afraid of their fear and sympathy of creatures locked away, bloody future plan; unknowing. Cattle aren’t her concern; Mal’s relief rushes across her cool skin, like happiness.
And Inara can’t stand by his side to shake hands. “Covetous: a lack of possession,” River murmurs, watching the dust rise in giant waves.
“What’s that, River?” Kaylee replies.
River shrugs. “Not meant for your ears, little mei-mei.”
Serenity settles, feels full again; they fly away, with a purpose and a path. It’s all Mal wants in life-just that-yet he’s restless, and can’t understand it. Paces the corridors at night, double-checks; walks past the infirmary, where it’s very quiet. Girl sleeps light and needs her rest; Mal turns a blind eye to her brother’s absence. Mal spends long nights alone on the bridge: noticing she doesn’t come. River’s stays in her bunk asleep, so he thinks; she watches but does not speak, so it might as well be true.
It’s Inara who joins him, sometimes: lonely nights need company; Inara doesn’t let things lie. Seeks him out; now she’s seen the things Mal’s seen, talk comes more easily. Thinks it might last; and maybe could, if things were orderly and neat. She might not feel the need to pick and pry, open up his head and tidy things. Fractured pieces; sees them lying about, so she has to put them back together, rearrange everything. Ain’t right, ain’t proper thinking one person can put things back how they’re meant to be.
Doesn't matter how it starts or who starts it, doesn't matter how it ends; what's built in the middle always is.
"I don't understand you," Inara cries. "The 'verse is different now! The Parliament doesn't have a strangle-hold right now, but they will again if someone doesn't step up and stand in their way."
"Did that once, if you'll remember," Mal says. "Didn't come out so well in the end."
"The people need to be reminded, Mal," Inara insists. "They're so indoctrinated with this belief that everyone needs to live the same way." She flattens her palm on the table in front of him; quick burn of memory disintegrating before it formulates. Something real, but hard to grasp.
He shakes his head. "Ain't a one who can make that clearer. Folk have to come to some truths in their own time."
"But you're the one who broadcast the truth about Miranda!"
“Was just followin' a path someone else had started."
"You got the truth out, Mal, and it *changed* things. People started to ask questions, and now they need an example. Something to believe in."
She should stop. Should leave him to mull it over, root out the glory and honor inside, but she doesn't. "Maybe, if the worlds change, you won't have to live like this anymore. You won't be forced to go around thieving to make a living."
"Wasn't forced to live any way, Inara. Was the point." Mal kicks his boots up on the table, leans back. "There were other ways, sure, but none that didn't have me takin' orders, some I was like as not to feel disinclined to taking, and none that didn't have me standing still 'til the world around rose up to shove me off my feet just as I was gettin' steady."
"Sure," she replies, too quickly, and bitter. "In my line of work, I come across that kind daily. Afraid of commitment, afraid to settle--"
She crossed a line. Mal’s voice becomes sharp, has edges. "A man can't keep his word, I'll have none of him. A man won't settle for a law that keeps him dishonest, or work for those that hurt others in sight of him, I'm inclined to respect him. A man who uses a woman's body don't belong to him for escapin' these things, a woman who gives herself willingly and don't ask no strings, I don't hold a gorram lot of respect for that either. As you well know, 'Nara. Don't you stand here on my ship an' tell me the 'verse has changed an' I should change to suit."
Inara visualizes. She sees a peaceful place, and repeats to herself that she's sitting there quietly. Arranges internally, lessons stacked in a column just like her spine: *these are your lessons and this is your core, this is who you are stripped down to the inside, this is what no one takes away from you, something unique beyond personality and emotion*. "It's people who change the worlds, Mal,” she says quietly.
"This is my world."
Inara’s spine is so stiff she can’t bend it in response to his tone; wo de fozu, that man is so obstinate. He’s been challenged; she found the border of his soul and will not be allowed to cross it.
"This ship is my center--"
He brings that up, cuts right to the core of her, to the thing that holds her together; it scares her, like she showed the way and didn't intend it; she's always so careful, all her training; he sees through all of it.
"And there's a reason long and fabled for that. Ain't gonna change. If you conjure it will, you're loopy as any one of us is."
She’s frustrated; can't hold it in. "Zhandou de yi kuai rou..."
"Settle your seat there, Inara," Mal says mildly. "Can't see as there's more to do than ride it out in the black."
"You're wrong, Mal." Her voice has gone cold. What does he want? He never wants anything from her; he’s always defensive and never listens. "You fought for a bigger cause than this before. You could do it again. The battle will never be fought if there are no volunteers. You can't sit back and pretend there's no chance because it's stupid and it's cowardly and it's not your way!"
Feet itch to touch the floor, stare her down; draw his gun if she were a man; he's not a peaceful soul. Coward: brought it up because she knows it burns. "Not generally health-some for a soul to talk to me that way, Inara, but I'll make an exception. Long as it don't happen again."
She leaves, abandons him then; can't win; can't have a conversation about anything where they disagree. River watches him study the table for a few minutes, watches his trouble. She sends her comfort through the ship. He needs Serenity's presence more than to see her face now. His ship, at his back, under his feet, humming to him: clears the fog. He breathes, and it's memories he smells. Keeps him balanced, makes him get up, put one foot under the other and walk. Walks right towards her, tilts his head up to the air shaft. "River. You been watching all this time?"
"Yes, Captain," she says softly, her voice a tinny echo from inside the ship.
Looks mad, but isn't; eyes twinkle. "Come on out here, darlin'." Hears the words trip off his lips, easy now. She crawls out toward him, slips out. Helps her down, and she lets him, though she's quite capable and he knows it. She smiles at him. "Captain," she calls him. There’s nothing more to be said just then.
"Mal," he answers, because symbols mean something. Draws her back with him into the kitchen, pulls out her chair; River pours tea, fixes it right, because she can. "Reckon we'll land at Grifter 'round about noon, your figures're right again." Smiles at her. “Conjure they are.”
“Conjure so,” River agrees softly.
“Been keeping to yourself ‘round here, lately,” he remarks; hesitates over the words; doesn’t mean to order her around.
“You noticed,” she replies softly.
“Don’t take a reader to feel your absence, little one.” Her chin tucks as he sets his cup down; he lifts it between two fingers. "I do believe you're blushing," he says. “You do tend to surprise, River Tam." Shakes his head. "Just startin' to feel your own way again, aren't ya?"
She shivers, underneath her skin; tamps it down, struggles to find the meaning of the words, not to let his voice flow through her like it wants to do. He releases her chin. "You're in my head," she says, feeling her tongue press against her teeth. Holds it. Feels a part of herself float outside, above her skin. "Mite unsettling," she says, reaching for him again.
She feels him slamming shut, clamping down. Feeling rushes back under her skin: rejection overwhelming, terrifying her thoughts back into hiding. She can’t think, can’t move, can’t breathe. Tries to find a small place to stand upon, rise above and grasp for air. He stands up. Doesn't notice.
"We hit Grifter, should be a smooth exchange. Mattherson claims he’s done business there."
"Afraid to hurt me," she says. Presses empty hands to the table. "You just *did*."
He stops at her shoulder, looks down. "River," he says seriously. Doesn’t hedge, run in and out and around; knows what she's talking about. "I'd be a very bad man if I took advantage. You know nothin' about me--"
"'Can't open the book of life and jump in the middle,'" she quotes him. "Is wrong. Reading backward's more difficult. Slot me in. I'll fit. I'm small!"
He pauses. "Sometimes your sense o' humor leaves somethin' wanin'."
She smiles, past the trembling of her lips; looks up at him. "It's confusing," she says. "What you want, what you're ready for...not the same thing."
He gazes at her steadily. "What a man wants is one thing. What he'll do is an other."
She shakes her head. "You'll see," she replies simply.
"You are right stubborn, River. What makes you think you know what's in my head better than I do my own self?"
Gives back what he threw away, doesn’t push it away a second time because she doesn’t push it on him; freedom comes back to her limbs but she just sits. Holding the moment still. Like pulling on time in tiny strands, her hands, and stretching it out. "Already bonded, just write the words." Shivers, letting sight come back. Has Mal listening. Doesn't want to hear he has no choice in the matter; isn't what she meant: miscommunication again. "Can't see what the future brings. Don't know how to take the right path. Have to keep walking, keep finding the way. Have to believe in where it leads."
Doesn't know if it's fei hua, crazy talk, or if she makes sense, but his mama taught him how to show respect whether or not he felt it. "Believin' make it so?"
"Sometimes. Believed my brother would come get me. He did."
"Gotta choose careful what you're believin', then."
"You believed in me."
"That I did."
River reads the script, the way it's meant to be. Moment has to end; they're coming. A room has more than one use; anyhow, it’s time for breakfast. "Don't forget."
"I haven't."
Kaylee enters, bringing cheerful words, and Simon, leaking guilt when he sees the captain and River: working again. Zoe comes out of her bunk down the passageway. "Plan to make contact before we land?” she asks Mal.
"Looks that way."
"Grifter is full of rocks, land and people," River says. "Obsolete docking gear."
Mal nods. "You’ll guide us in, little Albatross." His fingers touch her shoulder, and she nods. She knows. Mal has no answer; not time to make up his mind, yet. And in the space for uncertainty, there is hope for River.
*
"Thought sure these cattle’d make me upchuck my breakfast," Kaylee says. “Sure wish we could have somethin’ fresh-smellin’ to take back.”
"Weren't so good chucked the first time," Jayne replies, shoving away from the table; indiscriminately tosses his napkin: not his turn to clean up.
"Sod's a good payload," Zoe remarks. "Things fall through with Mattherson, can sell it most anywhere, get a good price. Don't shift around on its own while we're flying, don't set off any Alliance scans."
"Smells like...dirt," Kaylee says. "Smellin' dirt while you're flyin's just plain disconcertin'."
"Bringing two worlds together where they don't match."
"See? River understands."
"No," River answers, slowly stirring the jam into the mealy cheese. "Have to lift the edge. Put the pieces together again." Looks at Mal. "Contradiction. People do the opposite of what they should. Beauty in something worth fighting for, not how smooth it is."
Mal stands, pushes past her words. "Got to see a man about some dirt. Think I’ll go call him up.”
"Simon, feel like helping out in the engine room?" Kaylee leans into him. "Won’t be ready to land for awhile."
"Not true," River says, watching Mal's back.
Simon shrugs. "I won't be surprised if the captain has us all loading sod before the day is through. I think I'd better stay here."
"Well, if you're sure," replies disappointed Kaylee. "'Pears the cream is off the milk, you ask me," she mumbles.
"Kaylee!" Simon protests, nods at River like she's his excuse.
"Bodies are made to bend," River replies. "More useful. Have to practice. Once a week...or more often," she adds, knowingly.
Her brother fixes his eyes on her uneaten breakfast. “You need to finish eating, River.”
She watches her spoon turn and turn. “Mixes one way, but can’t unmix.”
Zoe followed Mal to the bridge: first time since; surprises him, feels it in the jerk of pain in his side. They pretend it’s not unusual to greet each other by the light of the stars; sometimes not sayin’ is a mercy; they are silent, while she looks out at the sky, arms crossed, ignoring Mal in her husband’s chair. He fiddles with the vid screen; it’s much too early to wave planet-side. Behind them, everyone will disperse from breakfast; Zoe waits before she asks.
"What are you going to do about River, Mal?"
"Don't expect to have to, Zoe. Girl's whip-smart. She'll see her way clear soon enough."
Zoe sighs, hard breath. Didn't expect Zoe’d see into River's mind, but she had. "What if she doesn't?"
And River listens so hard because she is frightened. If Mal makes up his mind now, she might get lost, lost up here inside Serenity like before, where floating through space passes for life because that's all that there is. But Mal doesn’t say anything; Zoe doesn’t press; River feels belief rise like a pounding in her chest.
*
"Go on, get your whoring done. But you keep to mind our schedule. We're leavin' at sun-up, come rain or shine."
This exasperates Inara. "You were the one who wanted to pick up a day's work while we were on this moon."
"An' I reckon I'll be finishin' right on schedule." He’s being obstinate; she shakes her head, dismissive, sweeping her gown ahead as she walks away.
River curls her hands around the rail and stares at Mal's head 'til he looks up, impatient. "You tryin' to make a point or have you found some new an' frightenin' way to communicate, River."
"Don't need a gorram reader to tell me job might not go smooth," Jayne grumbles; straps a third gun around his waist. "Gorram job never goes smooth, don't see as it's much of a surprise."
"Not body guard," River insists. Maybe if she repeats it, repeats it again, he'll start to hear. "Not second in command. Want to play a part, same as them."
Zoe watches Mal; he carefully doesn't look up again. "Don't need you on this one, darlin'. Need you to stay with the ship."
"You hear trouble, you call us, River," Zoe calls up. "Right away."
River nods. She wants to be near him. Proximity. Can't have one thing, need another. Can't push, though; has to follow orders, most important thing; watches them leave, closes the ship. Kaylee in the kitchen with Simon, giggling; inefficient, but enjoying themselves. River has to pass through to get to the bridge; tries to be invisible but Simon looks up. "River, you want to help?" he asks. Kaylee looks over, all smiles, wanting to be alone with him. River shakes her head.
"Keep watch," she says.
"River, you don't...sense anything wrong, do you?"
"Different kinds of trouble, Simon. Sometimes on the horizon; sometimes a surprise." She shoves her hair back uncomfortably, heavy on the hot planet. Feels good that Simon turns to her, trusts her to see better than him sometimes.
Pilot's chair wasn't made for her; accepts her just the same. Wash's dinosaurs, never touched; voices mute but still there. Won't approach until they're ready, unfamiliar fingers held beneath an open jaw, not touching, not attacking, just there. "Waiting is a perfectly valid use of time," she tells the Tyrannosaurus Rex. Conversation unamusing; needs practice. River puts her hands to her lips and leans close to the console. "Experienced needed to gain experience. Backwards." She waits. Patience is required.
"River, you up there?" Mal's voice interrupts. River reaches for the intercom. "Get down here, girl, and--"
River jumps up and reaches under the pilot's seat for the gun before he cuts off. He doesn't mind that she knows where it is, he just doesn't want her using it. Necessary now. She knows. Head's clear.
Point the gun, cock it, make a loud noise, don't shoot, just a prop. Just pretend, like a game. Shoot if he says. Just listen, don't think, not your choice. Point at the man's head 'til Mal says it's all right. "River!" Simon lunges; she steps around him.
"Might wanna think about settin' down your weapons. She's little, but she'll blow your head right off," Mal says, down below.
River's hands hold steady. Don't lock, just hover. Steadiness is a matter of making allowances.
"River..." Simon is coming toward her, slowly. She doesn't acknowledge him. "It's okay now. Put down the gun." Not okay: not over. Getting too close; he'll distract her; controls her own head, now her brother’s getting in the way. "Swivel, 2.5 seconds, turn and shoot, less than 5. You're unarmed."
Simon freezes. She can hear his throat work.
Zoe has a gun, and cocks it; no problem blowing this low-down double-crossing hun dan away. Mal walks toward her and stops under the walkway, looking up into her eyes so she can see he means it. "River," he says. "Put it down."
River raises the barrel. Release the trigger slowly; put the safety on. Can't give it to her brother; he doesn't even know how to hold a gun.
"Toss it down," Mal says, reaching up. So she does. Mal catches it and looks around. "Everything secure here?"
River looks at Simon. "Shouldn't sneak up," she says.
"I can see that," he says without moving. She frightened him. She's sorry; angry at the same time. Had to be done, didn't it? She thinks there might be a council in the dining area again. About her, how dangerous she could be.
Simon watches the Captain nervously. Kaylee is saying, somewhere, "She was just--well, she was protecting us, wasn't she? Like Jayne does." And Jayne gives her a funny look.
But Mal isn't thinking about that. "Get this man off my boat," Mal tells Zoe as he walks up the stairs. "River," he says. She walks toward him without his asking. Simon starts to follow and she puts out a hand.
Mal looks over her shoulder. "She's fine, Doctor."
"Don't..." She hears Simon hesitate. "Keelhaul her," he finally says. Doesn't want to sound worried.
"Never have found a keel yet," Mal muses, with a grin. He has the prop tucked into his pants, and River finds that funny. She watches his hips as she follows him back to the bridge. He leans over and puts it back in its place before he turns to her, finds her watching his bottom.
"Can't turn off my watching just to be convenient. Still have eyes. You can't take them away. Don't know how to.” She stares at him intently. The meaning of a thing can be in the appearance, though it’s less likely. "You know the words. You can control me."
Knows what she means: all the dead bodies. "Can't conjure those words will be necessary. Leastwise, not while we're on Serenity."
"No," she agrees. "Safe words substituted by safe place." Meets his eyes, and they're heavy. "Don't need me to explain it.”
Ponders this; looks down at her, takes her shoulders-small-between his two hands. "But I like to hear the words." Her own words returned, bringing his warmth with them. Her toes ache, stiff, pressed to the mettle of the deck; longing for movement. Knows there’s more: beyond what she has seen, can understand.
“Empty hands, pried open waiting to be filled,” she whispers, staring up so hard at him she almost sees the path he left for them, so bright it hurts her eyes to look just as much to not see him; “waits for him to take her hand and lead where she could not find the steps.” And he pulls her to him, so his lips rest on her forehead.
“River, you’re not making a lick of sense.”
“Said my piece anyway,” she replies, pressing herself close to his chest. Hands slide down, and up her spine, under her hair; potential to yield or repel until he twitches his fingers, draws her head away from him, and she kisses Mal.
Heightened emotions: loss of cognitive function. Tactile contact: hair, under fingernails; lips, rough; fingers, hard against her back and neck. She forgets to breathe; has to gasp when she pulls back; tastes Mal when she swallows, licks her lips.
He sets her gently back on her own two feet; where she belongs, he thinks. Can’t respond, doesn’t know what happens after this; stays silent. He stares at her: troubled eyes, wide open, black; walks away.
Don’t go after him, she tells herself. Can’t take it back.
*
“Man can have a rowdy acquaintance without bein’ untrustworthy his own self.”
Zoe crosses her arms.
“Captain, I don’t want River involved-“
Mal raises his hand to Simon without looking. “Might want to stop right there, Doctor, as I’m thinking the choice is up to that sister of yours. Zoe, made room for that gorram sod on this ship, I mean to haul it.”
“Can I take the grenades?” Jayne asks. He turns away. “Maybe Vera’d like to come.”
River peers up at Mal, carefully; change too deep to show outside. "Good walking day."
"Indeed it is, little one," he says, quietly, pulling on gloves. Looks down at her; level gaze; dark eyes. "Like to see the sun shine when there's thievery afoot."
River smiles. Zoe steps off the ramp, says, "Reckon you two should go on ahead. Jayne and I can mark out a perimeter."
"Shi ma?" Sharp gaze that needs no words; eyebrows crawl up Mal's forehead when Zoe just nods.
Mal looks at River closely. "Just you an' me today, Captain," she says clearly.
"Looks that way, Little Albatross."
Simon sighs.
"Future's what's ahead," River says. “Not what's in my head. Not a whole picture yet.” Looks at Simon. “I’ll be fine,” she adds.
Mal shakes his head; reaches out and spins her around by her shoulder, pushing her ahead of him. "Consider it a mercy not to see the long 'n dusty walk we have to town, then."
"Don't see it, Captain," River replies soberly, dropping back to tuck herself against his side. "Must have something else in mind."
Side of his mouth turns up; watches her out of the corner of his eye. "Might have, at that. Man with the rude gun left his horse behind. No need to punish the animal by leaving it behind.”
“I’ll drive,” she announces, leaping ahead to the black gelding, head hanging down. “You sit behind, hold on tight.” Giving over the lead, hands around her waist, trusting her sight. River smiles; tosses her head as she untethers their ride and looks at Mal out of the corner of her eye. Looks back at her silently for a moment; doesn’t protest.
*
She sits beside him in the bar seats; facing them, men with the itchy trigger fingers they promised to meet.
"Sure 'n we've broken faith with your courtesy now 'n understand your distrust for me, sir. My man shall be dealt with most harshly, I assure ye." Man with the feather in his hat put his hands on the table. "Mean to keep my bargain, however, with me dear friend Mr. Mattherson --how is he by the way?"
"Opinionated as to what sort of men he'll do business," Mal replies levelly. River's hand is on the gun below the table, hair brushing his arm. Men ignore her; appearance most often a reliable prediction of capability.
"Certainly, an' who's to be surprised. Have our contract legally signed here in me pocket to show ye."
"Mean to 'bide by Mr. Mattherson's contract, but I mean to get the job done right as well. What guarantee are you offering that we won't have such incidents as disturbed my ship this mornin'?"
Ignores their words; watches eyes, hands, folded across the table. Man seeking an opportune moment; he'll follow the letter of the contract so long as Mal is eagle-eyed. Mal doesn’t need her say-so, but she eases her grip on Mal’s weapon just the same.
“She’s a corker, that one. Pretty as a picture an’ quiet as a mouse. Got yourself fine help, there, Captain.”
Mal’s hand on her shoulder pushes her ahead of him out of the booth; holds her in place as he replies, “Fine ‘n right capable, as your man can ascertain.”
“An’ you to remind me, tha’s for certain.” But he smiles, raises his dark glass. “Be seein’ you bright ‘n early, Captain.”
“Sure will. We’ll be making free to use your man’s horse ‘til you do.” He held her hand until he lifted her into the saddle; swung up behind.
The horse can be tethered in the shelter of Serenity, “Some slight selection of grass, anyhow,” Mal says, dismounting. “Reckon he’ll get along a few hours, anyhow.”
Takes her around the waist and she slides down so she feels his waist and hips against her own parts, matching. Mal draws a slow, careful breath; sways into him. Wants her, still hesitates. “No, River,” he mumbles, a mess of panicked syllables. “Ain’t right, girl,” he says gruffly, shoving her away. “Just ain’t right. May be whip-smart, but there’s a thing or two you don’t got figured out yet, and I’m not the one to teach you.” He shakes his head, thinks he’s got it settled-set in stone, not going to break, can’t, not and live with himself later. “Won’t make you follow the path I lead.”
She steps closer, afraid, looking for something like hope, uncertainty. Can’t spin him about, confuse him, has to be convincing. “I already am,” she insists.
“Circumstance forced you to tread with me for some time now, baobei; don’t mean it’s forever. You do this thing, you just might be stuck with me-and you deserve better.” He takes her shoulders, holds her apart. “You can have better than this, River,” he says, looking in her eyes. “It’s not too late.”
She shakes loose of him angrily. “Think to refuse me, trample on what’s freely given, treat it unmannerly. Already bound to you!” she shouts fiercely. “Bound to the ship, same as you; can’t be one without the other.” River stares at him, gripping the breast above her own heart. “Not wrong, not an oddness. Might set it down on paper, mark what’s yours already. It’s already yours, already gave it.” He blinks at her, and she whispers, “Mean to have you, Mal. Not a game, not to hide. Mean to keep you just as you keep me.”
He stares at her mutely. His lips open, close, and he blurts out, “You got any idea what I’m ‘bout to say, little one, ‘cause I got no gorram idea.”
Stares back at him, meets his eye. “Don’t know. Doesn’t matter. Mean to convince you.”
He shakes his head slowly. “Never did think you were as crazy as I do right this minute, River.”
She smiles. “It’s a good kind of crazy, Mal.” She tilts her head. “If you conjure it so, Cap’n.”
His eyes narrow; harden; doesn’t want to let her in. Doesn’t want her to open up his head, put thoughts in. “Man needs space,” she declares, stepping away. “Don’t be hasty. Still be here tomorrow.” She pauses, at his side, where she wants to be. “And the next day.”
Blinks up at him, means to move away: what her intent is; feet aren’t moving. Weakness of doubt: foolishness to guess at the future. Should he say no; she’d stay, always, wondering at her place. Uncertain; unreciprocated. She ducks her head quickly: tears lead to misunderstanding; feminine wiles suspected.
Mal’s hand is under her chin and he lifts it gently. “Little one...”
“Not a scientific process,” she cries out. “Give and take. No control variables.” She sniffs angrily, and brushes at her nose. “Frustrating.”
He smiles slightly. “Think you’d be tired of waiting.”
“Stop!” she shouts. “Spoke my piece, mean to be leaving.” On tiptoes, kisses him hard as she can; he doesn’t move backwards. “It’s enough,” she whispers, and her feet can move again, into the ship, up the ramp; crawls up inside and breathes Serenity’s air.
*
Part five
Part two
Part three
Part four
She knows his patterns; knows when it’s time to stay away, provide space. Knows when he balks he’ll hold steady; knows when a straight path will turn astray; even knows he’s unpredictable just to be contrary. Mal walks through the ship, checking bits and pieces. Laying his hands on, like something holy, like belief; thinks about Shepherd Book. Pokes his head in the engine room, makes sure there ain't thing he don't wanna be seein'. Watches the engine turn. Rests eyes on what parts he knows names of. Walks over the silent cargo bay, roams the wide open spaces between the walls; feels its emptiness like a gutting hole inside him, shoves it aside; prepared as it’s going to be.
When they dock again, Mattherson is there to meet them; temporary corrals bend and tremble in their wake, filled to the brim with cattle lowing. River reins herself in tightly, afraid of their fear and sympathy of creatures locked away, bloody future plan; unknowing. Cattle aren’t her concern; Mal’s relief rushes across her cool skin, like happiness.
And Inara can’t stand by his side to shake hands. “Covetous: a lack of possession,” River murmurs, watching the dust rise in giant waves.
“What’s that, River?” Kaylee replies.
River shrugs. “Not meant for your ears, little mei-mei.”
Serenity settles, feels full again; they fly away, with a purpose and a path. It’s all Mal wants in life-just that-yet he’s restless, and can’t understand it. Paces the corridors at night, double-checks; walks past the infirmary, where it’s very quiet. Girl sleeps light and needs her rest; Mal turns a blind eye to her brother’s absence. Mal spends long nights alone on the bridge: noticing she doesn’t come. River’s stays in her bunk asleep, so he thinks; she watches but does not speak, so it might as well be true.
It’s Inara who joins him, sometimes: lonely nights need company; Inara doesn’t let things lie. Seeks him out; now she’s seen the things Mal’s seen, talk comes more easily. Thinks it might last; and maybe could, if things were orderly and neat. She might not feel the need to pick and pry, open up his head and tidy things. Fractured pieces; sees them lying about, so she has to put them back together, rearrange everything. Ain’t right, ain’t proper thinking one person can put things back how they’re meant to be.
Doesn't matter how it starts or who starts it, doesn't matter how it ends; what's built in the middle always is.
"I don't understand you," Inara cries. "The 'verse is different now! The Parliament doesn't have a strangle-hold right now, but they will again if someone doesn't step up and stand in their way."
"Did that once, if you'll remember," Mal says. "Didn't come out so well in the end."
"The people need to be reminded, Mal," Inara insists. "They're so indoctrinated with this belief that everyone needs to live the same way." She flattens her palm on the table in front of him; quick burn of memory disintegrating before it formulates. Something real, but hard to grasp.
He shakes his head. "Ain't a one who can make that clearer. Folk have to come to some truths in their own time."
"But you're the one who broadcast the truth about Miranda!"
“Was just followin' a path someone else had started."
"You got the truth out, Mal, and it *changed* things. People started to ask questions, and now they need an example. Something to believe in."
She should stop. Should leave him to mull it over, root out the glory and honor inside, but she doesn't. "Maybe, if the worlds change, you won't have to live like this anymore. You won't be forced to go around thieving to make a living."
"Wasn't forced to live any way, Inara. Was the point." Mal kicks his boots up on the table, leans back. "There were other ways, sure, but none that didn't have me takin' orders, some I was like as not to feel disinclined to taking, and none that didn't have me standing still 'til the world around rose up to shove me off my feet just as I was gettin' steady."
"Sure," she replies, too quickly, and bitter. "In my line of work, I come across that kind daily. Afraid of commitment, afraid to settle--"
She crossed a line. Mal’s voice becomes sharp, has edges. "A man can't keep his word, I'll have none of him. A man won't settle for a law that keeps him dishonest, or work for those that hurt others in sight of him, I'm inclined to respect him. A man who uses a woman's body don't belong to him for escapin' these things, a woman who gives herself willingly and don't ask no strings, I don't hold a gorram lot of respect for that either. As you well know, 'Nara. Don't you stand here on my ship an' tell me the 'verse has changed an' I should change to suit."
Inara visualizes. She sees a peaceful place, and repeats to herself that she's sitting there quietly. Arranges internally, lessons stacked in a column just like her spine: *these are your lessons and this is your core, this is who you are stripped down to the inside, this is what no one takes away from you, something unique beyond personality and emotion*. "It's people who change the worlds, Mal,” she says quietly.
"This is my world."
Inara’s spine is so stiff she can’t bend it in response to his tone; wo de fozu, that man is so obstinate. He’s been challenged; she found the border of his soul and will not be allowed to cross it.
"This ship is my center--"
He brings that up, cuts right to the core of her, to the thing that holds her together; it scares her, like she showed the way and didn't intend it; she's always so careful, all her training; he sees through all of it.
"And there's a reason long and fabled for that. Ain't gonna change. If you conjure it will, you're loopy as any one of us is."
She’s frustrated; can't hold it in. "Zhandou de yi kuai rou..."
"Settle your seat there, Inara," Mal says mildly. "Can't see as there's more to do than ride it out in the black."
"You're wrong, Mal." Her voice has gone cold. What does he want? He never wants anything from her; he’s always defensive and never listens. "You fought for a bigger cause than this before. You could do it again. The battle will never be fought if there are no volunteers. You can't sit back and pretend there's no chance because it's stupid and it's cowardly and it's not your way!"
Feet itch to touch the floor, stare her down; draw his gun if she were a man; he's not a peaceful soul. Coward: brought it up because she knows it burns. "Not generally health-some for a soul to talk to me that way, Inara, but I'll make an exception. Long as it don't happen again."
She leaves, abandons him then; can't win; can't have a conversation about anything where they disagree. River watches him study the table for a few minutes, watches his trouble. She sends her comfort through the ship. He needs Serenity's presence more than to see her face now. His ship, at his back, under his feet, humming to him: clears the fog. He breathes, and it's memories he smells. Keeps him balanced, makes him get up, put one foot under the other and walk. Walks right towards her, tilts his head up to the air shaft. "River. You been watching all this time?"
"Yes, Captain," she says softly, her voice a tinny echo from inside the ship.
Looks mad, but isn't; eyes twinkle. "Come on out here, darlin'." Hears the words trip off his lips, easy now. She crawls out toward him, slips out. Helps her down, and she lets him, though she's quite capable and he knows it. She smiles at him. "Captain," she calls him. There’s nothing more to be said just then.
"Mal," he answers, because symbols mean something. Draws her back with him into the kitchen, pulls out her chair; River pours tea, fixes it right, because she can. "Reckon we'll land at Grifter 'round about noon, your figures're right again." Smiles at her. “Conjure they are.”
“Conjure so,” River agrees softly.
“Been keeping to yourself ‘round here, lately,” he remarks; hesitates over the words; doesn’t mean to order her around.
“You noticed,” she replies softly.
“Don’t take a reader to feel your absence, little one.” Her chin tucks as he sets his cup down; he lifts it between two fingers. "I do believe you're blushing," he says. “You do tend to surprise, River Tam." Shakes his head. "Just startin' to feel your own way again, aren't ya?"
She shivers, underneath her skin; tamps it down, struggles to find the meaning of the words, not to let his voice flow through her like it wants to do. He releases her chin. "You're in my head," she says, feeling her tongue press against her teeth. Holds it. Feels a part of herself float outside, above her skin. "Mite unsettling," she says, reaching for him again.
She feels him slamming shut, clamping down. Feeling rushes back under her skin: rejection overwhelming, terrifying her thoughts back into hiding. She can’t think, can’t move, can’t breathe. Tries to find a small place to stand upon, rise above and grasp for air. He stands up. Doesn't notice.
"We hit Grifter, should be a smooth exchange. Mattherson claims he’s done business there."
"Afraid to hurt me," she says. Presses empty hands to the table. "You just *did*."
He stops at her shoulder, looks down. "River," he says seriously. Doesn’t hedge, run in and out and around; knows what she's talking about. "I'd be a very bad man if I took advantage. You know nothin' about me--"
"'Can't open the book of life and jump in the middle,'" she quotes him. "Is wrong. Reading backward's more difficult. Slot me in. I'll fit. I'm small!"
He pauses. "Sometimes your sense o' humor leaves somethin' wanin'."
She smiles, past the trembling of her lips; looks up at him. "It's confusing," she says. "What you want, what you're ready for...not the same thing."
He gazes at her steadily. "What a man wants is one thing. What he'll do is an other."
She shakes her head. "You'll see," she replies simply.
"You are right stubborn, River. What makes you think you know what's in my head better than I do my own self?"
Gives back what he threw away, doesn’t push it away a second time because she doesn’t push it on him; freedom comes back to her limbs but she just sits. Holding the moment still. Like pulling on time in tiny strands, her hands, and stretching it out. "Already bonded, just write the words." Shivers, letting sight come back. Has Mal listening. Doesn't want to hear he has no choice in the matter; isn't what she meant: miscommunication again. "Can't see what the future brings. Don't know how to take the right path. Have to keep walking, keep finding the way. Have to believe in where it leads."
Doesn't know if it's fei hua, crazy talk, or if she makes sense, but his mama taught him how to show respect whether or not he felt it. "Believin' make it so?"
"Sometimes. Believed my brother would come get me. He did."
"Gotta choose careful what you're believin', then."
"You believed in me."
"That I did."
River reads the script, the way it's meant to be. Moment has to end; they're coming. A room has more than one use; anyhow, it’s time for breakfast. "Don't forget."
"I haven't."
Kaylee enters, bringing cheerful words, and Simon, leaking guilt when he sees the captain and River: working again. Zoe comes out of her bunk down the passageway. "Plan to make contact before we land?” she asks Mal.
"Looks that way."
"Grifter is full of rocks, land and people," River says. "Obsolete docking gear."
Mal nods. "You’ll guide us in, little Albatross." His fingers touch her shoulder, and she nods. She knows. Mal has no answer; not time to make up his mind, yet. And in the space for uncertainty, there is hope for River.
*
"Thought sure these cattle’d make me upchuck my breakfast," Kaylee says. “Sure wish we could have somethin’ fresh-smellin’ to take back.”
"Weren't so good chucked the first time," Jayne replies, shoving away from the table; indiscriminately tosses his napkin: not his turn to clean up.
"Sod's a good payload," Zoe remarks. "Things fall through with Mattherson, can sell it most anywhere, get a good price. Don't shift around on its own while we're flying, don't set off any Alliance scans."
"Smells like...dirt," Kaylee says. "Smellin' dirt while you're flyin's just plain disconcertin'."
"Bringing two worlds together where they don't match."
"See? River understands."
"No," River answers, slowly stirring the jam into the mealy cheese. "Have to lift the edge. Put the pieces together again." Looks at Mal. "Contradiction. People do the opposite of what they should. Beauty in something worth fighting for, not how smooth it is."
Mal stands, pushes past her words. "Got to see a man about some dirt. Think I’ll go call him up.”
"Simon, feel like helping out in the engine room?" Kaylee leans into him. "Won’t be ready to land for awhile."
"Not true," River says, watching Mal's back.
Simon shrugs. "I won't be surprised if the captain has us all loading sod before the day is through. I think I'd better stay here."
"Well, if you're sure," replies disappointed Kaylee. "'Pears the cream is off the milk, you ask me," she mumbles.
"Kaylee!" Simon protests, nods at River like she's his excuse.
"Bodies are made to bend," River replies. "More useful. Have to practice. Once a week...or more often," she adds, knowingly.
Her brother fixes his eyes on her uneaten breakfast. “You need to finish eating, River.”
She watches her spoon turn and turn. “Mixes one way, but can’t unmix.”
Zoe followed Mal to the bridge: first time since; surprises him, feels it in the jerk of pain in his side. They pretend it’s not unusual to greet each other by the light of the stars; sometimes not sayin’ is a mercy; they are silent, while she looks out at the sky, arms crossed, ignoring Mal in her husband’s chair. He fiddles with the vid screen; it’s much too early to wave planet-side. Behind them, everyone will disperse from breakfast; Zoe waits before she asks.
"What are you going to do about River, Mal?"
"Don't expect to have to, Zoe. Girl's whip-smart. She'll see her way clear soon enough."
Zoe sighs, hard breath. Didn't expect Zoe’d see into River's mind, but she had. "What if she doesn't?"
And River listens so hard because she is frightened. If Mal makes up his mind now, she might get lost, lost up here inside Serenity like before, where floating through space passes for life because that's all that there is. But Mal doesn’t say anything; Zoe doesn’t press; River feels belief rise like a pounding in her chest.
*
"Go on, get your whoring done. But you keep to mind our schedule. We're leavin' at sun-up, come rain or shine."
This exasperates Inara. "You were the one who wanted to pick up a day's work while we were on this moon."
"An' I reckon I'll be finishin' right on schedule." He’s being obstinate; she shakes her head, dismissive, sweeping her gown ahead as she walks away.
River curls her hands around the rail and stares at Mal's head 'til he looks up, impatient. "You tryin' to make a point or have you found some new an' frightenin' way to communicate, River."
"Don't need a gorram reader to tell me job might not go smooth," Jayne grumbles; straps a third gun around his waist. "Gorram job never goes smooth, don't see as it's much of a surprise."
"Not body guard," River insists. Maybe if she repeats it, repeats it again, he'll start to hear. "Not second in command. Want to play a part, same as them."
Zoe watches Mal; he carefully doesn't look up again. "Don't need you on this one, darlin'. Need you to stay with the ship."
"You hear trouble, you call us, River," Zoe calls up. "Right away."
River nods. She wants to be near him. Proximity. Can't have one thing, need another. Can't push, though; has to follow orders, most important thing; watches them leave, closes the ship. Kaylee in the kitchen with Simon, giggling; inefficient, but enjoying themselves. River has to pass through to get to the bridge; tries to be invisible but Simon looks up. "River, you want to help?" he asks. Kaylee looks over, all smiles, wanting to be alone with him. River shakes her head.
"Keep watch," she says.
"River, you don't...sense anything wrong, do you?"
"Different kinds of trouble, Simon. Sometimes on the horizon; sometimes a surprise." She shoves her hair back uncomfortably, heavy on the hot planet. Feels good that Simon turns to her, trusts her to see better than him sometimes.
Pilot's chair wasn't made for her; accepts her just the same. Wash's dinosaurs, never touched; voices mute but still there. Won't approach until they're ready, unfamiliar fingers held beneath an open jaw, not touching, not attacking, just there. "Waiting is a perfectly valid use of time," she tells the Tyrannosaurus Rex. Conversation unamusing; needs practice. River puts her hands to her lips and leans close to the console. "Experienced needed to gain experience. Backwards." She waits. Patience is required.
"River, you up there?" Mal's voice interrupts. River reaches for the intercom. "Get down here, girl, and--"
River jumps up and reaches under the pilot's seat for the gun before he cuts off. He doesn't mind that she knows where it is, he just doesn't want her using it. Necessary now. She knows. Head's clear.
Point the gun, cock it, make a loud noise, don't shoot, just a prop. Just pretend, like a game. Shoot if he says. Just listen, don't think, not your choice. Point at the man's head 'til Mal says it's all right. "River!" Simon lunges; she steps around him.
"Might wanna think about settin' down your weapons. She's little, but she'll blow your head right off," Mal says, down below.
River's hands hold steady. Don't lock, just hover. Steadiness is a matter of making allowances.
"River..." Simon is coming toward her, slowly. She doesn't acknowledge him. "It's okay now. Put down the gun." Not okay: not over. Getting too close; he'll distract her; controls her own head, now her brother’s getting in the way. "Swivel, 2.5 seconds, turn and shoot, less than 5. You're unarmed."
Simon freezes. She can hear his throat work.
Zoe has a gun, and cocks it; no problem blowing this low-down double-crossing hun dan away. Mal walks toward her and stops under the walkway, looking up into her eyes so she can see he means it. "River," he says. "Put it down."
River raises the barrel. Release the trigger slowly; put the safety on. Can't give it to her brother; he doesn't even know how to hold a gun.
"Toss it down," Mal says, reaching up. So she does. Mal catches it and looks around. "Everything secure here?"
River looks at Simon. "Shouldn't sneak up," she says.
"I can see that," he says without moving. She frightened him. She's sorry; angry at the same time. Had to be done, didn't it? She thinks there might be a council in the dining area again. About her, how dangerous she could be.
Simon watches the Captain nervously. Kaylee is saying, somewhere, "She was just--well, she was protecting us, wasn't she? Like Jayne does." And Jayne gives her a funny look.
But Mal isn't thinking about that. "Get this man off my boat," Mal tells Zoe as he walks up the stairs. "River," he says. She walks toward him without his asking. Simon starts to follow and she puts out a hand.
Mal looks over her shoulder. "She's fine, Doctor."
"Don't..." She hears Simon hesitate. "Keelhaul her," he finally says. Doesn't want to sound worried.
"Never have found a keel yet," Mal muses, with a grin. He has the prop tucked into his pants, and River finds that funny. She watches his hips as she follows him back to the bridge. He leans over and puts it back in its place before he turns to her, finds her watching his bottom.
"Can't turn off my watching just to be convenient. Still have eyes. You can't take them away. Don't know how to.” She stares at him intently. The meaning of a thing can be in the appearance, though it’s less likely. "You know the words. You can control me."
Knows what she means: all the dead bodies. "Can't conjure those words will be necessary. Leastwise, not while we're on Serenity."
"No," she agrees. "Safe words substituted by safe place." Meets his eyes, and they're heavy. "Don't need me to explain it.”
Ponders this; looks down at her, takes her shoulders-small-between his two hands. "But I like to hear the words." Her own words returned, bringing his warmth with them. Her toes ache, stiff, pressed to the mettle of the deck; longing for movement. Knows there’s more: beyond what she has seen, can understand.
“Empty hands, pried open waiting to be filled,” she whispers, staring up so hard at him she almost sees the path he left for them, so bright it hurts her eyes to look just as much to not see him; “waits for him to take her hand and lead where she could not find the steps.” And he pulls her to him, so his lips rest on her forehead.
“River, you’re not making a lick of sense.”
“Said my piece anyway,” she replies, pressing herself close to his chest. Hands slide down, and up her spine, under her hair; potential to yield or repel until he twitches his fingers, draws her head away from him, and she kisses Mal.
Heightened emotions: loss of cognitive function. Tactile contact: hair, under fingernails; lips, rough; fingers, hard against her back and neck. She forgets to breathe; has to gasp when she pulls back; tastes Mal when she swallows, licks her lips.
He sets her gently back on her own two feet; where she belongs, he thinks. Can’t respond, doesn’t know what happens after this; stays silent. He stares at her: troubled eyes, wide open, black; walks away.
Don’t go after him, she tells herself. Can’t take it back.
*
“Man can have a rowdy acquaintance without bein’ untrustworthy his own self.”
Zoe crosses her arms.
“Captain, I don’t want River involved-“
Mal raises his hand to Simon without looking. “Might want to stop right there, Doctor, as I’m thinking the choice is up to that sister of yours. Zoe, made room for that gorram sod on this ship, I mean to haul it.”
“Can I take the grenades?” Jayne asks. He turns away. “Maybe Vera’d like to come.”
River peers up at Mal, carefully; change too deep to show outside. "Good walking day."
"Indeed it is, little one," he says, quietly, pulling on gloves. Looks down at her; level gaze; dark eyes. "Like to see the sun shine when there's thievery afoot."
River smiles. Zoe steps off the ramp, says, "Reckon you two should go on ahead. Jayne and I can mark out a perimeter."
"Shi ma?" Sharp gaze that needs no words; eyebrows crawl up Mal's forehead when Zoe just nods.
Mal looks at River closely. "Just you an' me today, Captain," she says clearly.
"Looks that way, Little Albatross."
Simon sighs.
"Future's what's ahead," River says. “Not what's in my head. Not a whole picture yet.” Looks at Simon. “I’ll be fine,” she adds.
Mal shakes his head; reaches out and spins her around by her shoulder, pushing her ahead of him. "Consider it a mercy not to see the long 'n dusty walk we have to town, then."
"Don't see it, Captain," River replies soberly, dropping back to tuck herself against his side. "Must have something else in mind."
Side of his mouth turns up; watches her out of the corner of his eye. "Might have, at that. Man with the rude gun left his horse behind. No need to punish the animal by leaving it behind.”
“I’ll drive,” she announces, leaping ahead to the black gelding, head hanging down. “You sit behind, hold on tight.” Giving over the lead, hands around her waist, trusting her sight. River smiles; tosses her head as she untethers their ride and looks at Mal out of the corner of her eye. Looks back at her silently for a moment; doesn’t protest.
*
She sits beside him in the bar seats; facing them, men with the itchy trigger fingers they promised to meet.
"Sure 'n we've broken faith with your courtesy now 'n understand your distrust for me, sir. My man shall be dealt with most harshly, I assure ye." Man with the feather in his hat put his hands on the table. "Mean to keep my bargain, however, with me dear friend Mr. Mattherson --how is he by the way?"
"Opinionated as to what sort of men he'll do business," Mal replies levelly. River's hand is on the gun below the table, hair brushing his arm. Men ignore her; appearance most often a reliable prediction of capability.
"Certainly, an' who's to be surprised. Have our contract legally signed here in me pocket to show ye."
"Mean to 'bide by Mr. Mattherson's contract, but I mean to get the job done right as well. What guarantee are you offering that we won't have such incidents as disturbed my ship this mornin'?"
Ignores their words; watches eyes, hands, folded across the table. Man seeking an opportune moment; he'll follow the letter of the contract so long as Mal is eagle-eyed. Mal doesn’t need her say-so, but she eases her grip on Mal’s weapon just the same.
“She’s a corker, that one. Pretty as a picture an’ quiet as a mouse. Got yourself fine help, there, Captain.”
Mal’s hand on her shoulder pushes her ahead of him out of the booth; holds her in place as he replies, “Fine ‘n right capable, as your man can ascertain.”
“An’ you to remind me, tha’s for certain.” But he smiles, raises his dark glass. “Be seein’ you bright ‘n early, Captain.”
“Sure will. We’ll be making free to use your man’s horse ‘til you do.” He held her hand until he lifted her into the saddle; swung up behind.
The horse can be tethered in the shelter of Serenity, “Some slight selection of grass, anyhow,” Mal says, dismounting. “Reckon he’ll get along a few hours, anyhow.”
Takes her around the waist and she slides down so she feels his waist and hips against her own parts, matching. Mal draws a slow, careful breath; sways into him. Wants her, still hesitates. “No, River,” he mumbles, a mess of panicked syllables. “Ain’t right, girl,” he says gruffly, shoving her away. “Just ain’t right. May be whip-smart, but there’s a thing or two you don’t got figured out yet, and I’m not the one to teach you.” He shakes his head, thinks he’s got it settled-set in stone, not going to break, can’t, not and live with himself later. “Won’t make you follow the path I lead.”
She steps closer, afraid, looking for something like hope, uncertainty. Can’t spin him about, confuse him, has to be convincing. “I already am,” she insists.
“Circumstance forced you to tread with me for some time now, baobei; don’t mean it’s forever. You do this thing, you just might be stuck with me-and you deserve better.” He takes her shoulders, holds her apart. “You can have better than this, River,” he says, looking in her eyes. “It’s not too late.”
She shakes loose of him angrily. “Think to refuse me, trample on what’s freely given, treat it unmannerly. Already bound to you!” she shouts fiercely. “Bound to the ship, same as you; can’t be one without the other.” River stares at him, gripping the breast above her own heart. “Not wrong, not an oddness. Might set it down on paper, mark what’s yours already. It’s already yours, already gave it.” He blinks at her, and she whispers, “Mean to have you, Mal. Not a game, not to hide. Mean to keep you just as you keep me.”
He stares at her mutely. His lips open, close, and he blurts out, “You got any idea what I’m ‘bout to say, little one, ‘cause I got no gorram idea.”
Stares back at him, meets his eye. “Don’t know. Doesn’t matter. Mean to convince you.”
He shakes his head slowly. “Never did think you were as crazy as I do right this minute, River.”
She smiles. “It’s a good kind of crazy, Mal.” She tilts her head. “If you conjure it so, Cap’n.”
His eyes narrow; harden; doesn’t want to let her in. Doesn’t want her to open up his head, put thoughts in. “Man needs space,” she declares, stepping away. “Don’t be hasty. Still be here tomorrow.” She pauses, at his side, where she wants to be. “And the next day.”
Blinks up at him, means to move away: what her intent is; feet aren’t moving. Weakness of doubt: foolishness to guess at the future. Should he say no; she’d stay, always, wondering at her place. Uncertain; unreciprocated. She ducks her head quickly: tears lead to misunderstanding; feminine wiles suspected.
Mal’s hand is under her chin and he lifts it gently. “Little one...”
“Not a scientific process,” she cries out. “Give and take. No control variables.” She sniffs angrily, and brushes at her nose. “Frustrating.”
He smiles slightly. “Think you’d be tired of waiting.”
“Stop!” she shouts. “Spoke my piece, mean to be leaving.” On tiptoes, kisses him hard as she can; he doesn’t move backwards. “It’s enough,” she whispers, and her feet can move again, into the ship, up the ramp; crawls up inside and breathes Serenity’s air.
*
Part five