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fuzipenguinFandom: Firefly TV (2002), Serenity (2005)
Series: n/a
Author: FuziPenguin
Characters: River Tam, Jayne Cobb
Pairing: Jayne/River
Rating: PG
Word Count: 594
Summary:Things change after Miranda; Simon may or may not be pleased.
Warnings: Post-Serenity (2005), Aged-Up Character(s), aged up river tam, mental illness
Notes: Self-beta'd. Originally posted on my Livejournal on 2.17.2008. Edited for grammatical errors before posting here. Written for the LJ community springkink Feb 15th prompt: Firefly, Jayne/River, comfort in insanity "I won't kill you".
Disclaimer: This is a piece of fiction. No harm was intended in the creation of this work. All rights belong to the original creators.
She changes after Miranda. After those deaths are put to rest in the dirt and there’s less crowding in her head. She brushes her hair often, shoes stay on her feet longer, and her eyes are just a little more focused when she looks in the mirror.
But River is not cured. She knows this, hates this because the more room she has in her brain gives her more space to watch when her thoughts fragment into confused shards.
Simon is elated. Simon thinks she will only become better. She may become better but will never be best. Will never be whole, mind a completed puzzle. Pieces will always be lost under the couch cushions or tangled in Zoe’s grief, Mal’s anger, Inara’s frustration, Kaylee’s worry, Simon’s love, Jayne’s -
He changes after Miranda too. They all do, of course (of course, of course, no remorse). They lost two of their own and even the manly man with the girl’s name grieves. Mixed in with the sadness, however, blue to yellow, is awareness. Of her, of River, of the weapon, the girl, the waste of space where now stands legs and breasts and sharp edges.
She does not know what to do with this attraction, this niggling interest directed towards her. Neither does he, and she manages amusement when her brain is quiet.
He stares at her when he thinks no one is looking. No one does, except for her, except for the eye in the back of her head, peeping out through strands of shiny, freshly brushed hair. She stares back and it lasts for days and days until she cannot count them (46) any longer, and she must push.
It is a bad day, and it is likely why she decides to seek him out. Patterns are unrecognizable, scorching and searing and something, anything must fall into place. If not Jayne, hovering at the edge of it all, then what? So, she hunts him, tracks the tracker, and finds him. He’s rubbing greased cloths over and over steel barrels, thinking about dripping steel blades and not expecting the half-mad sprite of a girl in his thoughts to materialize in his lap.
He blusters and blows and is afraid-aroused-afraid-angry so she presses close, wonders if she could meld their spines while hushing him with whispered reassurances. There is a flash inside his mind, and she grabs at it: face to face, blade to blade, and she wins, she always wins, but as he collapses to his knees, knowing she has killed him - his eyes just see her as Beauty.
“I won’t kill you,” she tells him. It is truth. He sees her, looks through her and into her, and he may not understand most of it, but neither does she, and maybe they could graduate together, strive for “better”.
“I wouldn’t let you,” he brags, and he believes it. Mostly.
“Get offa me.”
Even she can be surprised. She blinks and leans in to search, but he pushes her up, up and away. “You ain’t right today. Git to cleanin’ or git lost, but you ain’t sittin' on my lap when you’re like this.”
She floats to a corner, and he ignores her for the one, two, three sweeps of the linen against the weapon. His interest has quieted, the room is hushed, and her brain has no choice but to settle as well, threads untensing and curving softly, never straight, but for now - untangled.
It is still a bad day, but with his help, she has achieved “better”; Simon will be pleased.
~End
