FIC: On the Drift
Sep. 10th, 2009 01:27 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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firefly_fanficTitle: On the Drift
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
rangersebulba
Genre: gen
Rating: G
Characters: River, Mal, Simon, Kaylee; hints of S/K and M/I
Spoilers/Timeline: post-series, pre-BDM
Summary: Serenity makes its first landing after Inara's departure, and all hands are feeling her absence; River, however, deals with her feelings a little differently from the others.
Notes: Forjj9437, who inspired the latter part of this story one evening at Dragon*Con. (Eventually this will be incorporated into one of my full-length stories as part of a rewrite.)
Disclaimer: Kneel before Joss.
**********
For all the pleasure the rest of the crew might have shared in being in this world again, Kaylee showed a marked lack of it. On his way from aft stairs to the dining area, Simon, glancing obliquely back toward the engine room, found his gaze very quickly caught by Kaylee's pose. Leaning on the engine cowling, stroking it with a sober expression, Kaylee looked singularly little like her chipper and bubbly self. Simon approached the engine room light on his feet, wondering how to regale her with a tale of an old flame, for there was little else he could picture on her mind here.
Catching Simon's entry, Kaylee looked up - but his appearance alone was enough to cure the better part of her ills.
"Something the matter?" Simon asked, nodding at the engine.
"Nah," Kaylee said nonchalantly. "Everything's shiny my end. Up there, though...." she sighed lightly, looking forward. "Well, things're different. Mite different than I'd like. Gonna miss seein' Inara off 'n' back home, y'know?"
"I know," Simon smiled gently. It wasn't what he'd thought, but nor was it as easy to deal with. "She was a good friend. Better than almost anyone aboard, besides the Shepherd and, well....you."
The compliment escaped Kaylee, disturbed as she was by his line of thought. "You're talkin' like she's dead, Simon."
"Sorry," Simon uttered. "I....well, I miss her, too. But at least we know we might see her again."
"Thanks for tryin' to get me feelin' better," Kaylee said. Seeing him stiffen defensively, she struck out a quick and calming hand. "No, really, Simon. She was real good to you and River when you needed...." Her voice trailed off and she simpered briefly. "God, listen to us! She left the boat 'cause she had to and here we're talkin' like we just laid her in the ground!"
"Well, after all I am something of an expert on gaping wounds," Simon said pontifically. "But I'm still trying to figure out the one left by a person who was as much a part of everyone's lives as Inara."
"Possible 'cause that's one wound even the top three percent can't stitch." Mal's voice, razor-edged, froze them both along with the unamused scowl he directed at them from the engine-room doorway. "In the meanwhile, we got snow underfoot. Kaylee, get on out and crack those thermo-valves, then see to some fuel. Doc, if you got nothin' better to do than stand there and jaw, you can go get us stocked up on some o' them dandy sauces o' yours. And - try not to run afoul of any gang types while you're at it." His scowl had not softened in the least as he turned away and headed forward.
"Well, that settles that," Simon sighed.
"Yeah," Kaylee muttered, uncomfortably brushing her hair aside. "Well, guess I'd better...."
"Right." With all due and proper reluctance, Simon turned and departed the engine room, leaving Kaylee to her work.
Mal, still convinced that he knew who the mutual friend might be, passed from dining area to forward hall with focused mind, headed to his cabin. But as he passed the upper hatch, he found himself, to his discomfiture, holding his breath. It didn't take him long to realise why: the more effort he poured into forgetting Inara, the harder he braced himself for her to appear around the corner and boast about her glamourous client and his (her?) high-browed lifestyle, a far cry from Mal's pursuits of petty thievery. A reminder was in order. Sighing, Mal detoured away from the forward hall and headed for the stairs to the cargo bay.
The #1 shuttle was cold and empty, a deserted little fort without a defense. The scent of incense still hung mildly in the air, even if it was only Mal's imagination. He leaned heavily in the doorway, looking around the shuttle once, remembering the deep, sensuous hues of Inara's carpet, draperies and furniture, the smells of candles, incense and tea. Then he looked around a second time, taking in the bare and cold metal walls and the dark instrument panels in the cockpit. The shuttle was as dark and silent as a tomb.
Mal glanced down, spying a stray blue feather that had somehow parted from its garment β whether garment or decoration, Mal neither knew nor cared. He stooped to the feather and lifted it, staring at it, presently sniffing it, wondering if it still withheld an aroma of incense or perfume: all it withheld was the threat of a sneeze. Mal sighed and wondered for the trillionth time why he was even going through the motion. He pushed himself from the doorway: there was no more life there, no more love, no more Inara. If not for his vivid memories of her - all the arrangements, all the banter, all the conversations and fights they'd had - it would have been too easy altogether to imagine that she had never even been here.
But by no means, he reflected, was it a sufficient reminder that she was no longer with him.
εθΏ
Unbeknownst to Mal, River had been lying silently on a container below the catwalk. She couldn't help a feeling of sympathy for the lonesome captain, for even though he had accepted her presence on his ship she wasn't sure she was welcome by all hands. Mal was aching all over at losing Inara, much as River still did when she felt everyone's fear: and Mal had so little happiness of his own to begin with, River could only feel sorry for him that he couldn't sense anyone else's even if he wanted to.
She sat up on the container as Mal exited the shuttle and listlessly threw the feather over the catwalk railing. The cold air outside Serenity mingled with the warm air within, currents formed, and the feather drifted slowly hither and yon toward the deck β but never quite made it. River spied it as it flitted aimlessly in the direction of the airlock. She arose and blew at the feather, sending it upward again. It fell to a receding air current and coursed toward the common area, but River blew at it again, sending it toward the airlock.
She smiled as the feather responded, floated up and then down again, and answered her exhalations, flying with renewed strength toward the outside air. She hurried after it and blew it further still, and it seemed to rise higher and higher with each breath. River huffed and puffed and cavorted in a sightless zigzag along the cargo deck, her whole being focused on keeping the feather aloft, not noticing Mal as he walked slowly past her, eyeing her askance. River was being River, but the last thing Mal wanted was to have Simon breathing down his neck if she hurt herself.
The feather floated far up and away, and with River's help it overcame the indifferent air currents. High and light on the air, it flew strongly toward the open airlock. Presently it fell behind a container, and River paused, waiting to see if it was lost. In a moment it reappeared from behind a cargo net, drifting back her way as if to say, Lo! here I am! You have been a loyal companion and I wish that we....
River's thoughts trailed off: 'companion' probably wasn't the most appropriate choice of terms even for the feather. She resumed blowing, bouncing and prancing after the feather until it approached the ramp, and even thereafter. Only when Mal exhorted a warning did she draw herself up short of chasing the feather to the ground.
"Ain't enough snow out here to break that thing's fall, way less yours," he told her. "What's with the pursuit of the wild feather, anyway?"
"Got to keep it airborne," River answered. "Keep it flying. It's all that's left. Don't want to let it be crushed under anyone's heel."
Mal looked pointedly away as he pulled his coat off and threw on an extra jacket beneath it. "Might just ask who you're really talkin' about if I didn't already have a brainload. Sayin' o' which, when we get out there, I want you to keep a brain out. Anything unseemly comes down on us, don't you waste a split lettin' me in on it, you hear?"
"I feel," River said quietly. Then she looked outside, spotting the feather, now on a slow downward glide to Serenity's starboard. "It's on the drift now. No one to keep it afloat. If it drifts too far....no one will care where it lands."
Author:
rangersebulbaGenre: gen
Rating: G
Characters: River, Mal, Simon, Kaylee; hints of S/K and M/I
Spoilers/Timeline: post-series, pre-BDM
Summary: Serenity makes its first landing after Inara's departure, and all hands are feeling her absence; River, however, deals with her feelings a little differently from the others.
Notes: For
jj9437, who inspired the latter part of this story one evening at Dragon*Con. (Eventually this will be incorporated into one of my full-length stories as part of a rewrite.)Disclaimer: Kneel before Joss.
**********
For all the pleasure the rest of the crew might have shared in being in this world again, Kaylee showed a marked lack of it. On his way from aft stairs to the dining area, Simon, glancing obliquely back toward the engine room, found his gaze very quickly caught by Kaylee's pose. Leaning on the engine cowling, stroking it with a sober expression, Kaylee looked singularly little like her chipper and bubbly self. Simon approached the engine room light on his feet, wondering how to regale her with a tale of an old flame, for there was little else he could picture on her mind here.
Catching Simon's entry, Kaylee looked up - but his appearance alone was enough to cure the better part of her ills.
"Something the matter?" Simon asked, nodding at the engine.
"Nah," Kaylee said nonchalantly. "Everything's shiny my end. Up there, though...." she sighed lightly, looking forward. "Well, things're different. Mite different than I'd like. Gonna miss seein' Inara off 'n' back home, y'know?"
"I know," Simon smiled gently. It wasn't what he'd thought, but nor was it as easy to deal with. "She was a good friend. Better than almost anyone aboard, besides the Shepherd and, well....you."
The compliment escaped Kaylee, disturbed as she was by his line of thought. "You're talkin' like she's dead, Simon."
"Sorry," Simon uttered. "I....well, I miss her, too. But at least we know we might see her again."
"Thanks for tryin' to get me feelin' better," Kaylee said. Seeing him stiffen defensively, she struck out a quick and calming hand. "No, really, Simon. She was real good to you and River when you needed...." Her voice trailed off and she simpered briefly. "God, listen to us! She left the boat 'cause she had to and here we're talkin' like we just laid her in the ground!"
"Well, after all I am something of an expert on gaping wounds," Simon said pontifically. "But I'm still trying to figure out the one left by a person who was as much a part of everyone's lives as Inara."
"Possible 'cause that's one wound even the top three percent can't stitch." Mal's voice, razor-edged, froze them both along with the unamused scowl he directed at them from the engine-room doorway. "In the meanwhile, we got snow underfoot. Kaylee, get on out and crack those thermo-valves, then see to some fuel. Doc, if you got nothin' better to do than stand there and jaw, you can go get us stocked up on some o' them dandy sauces o' yours. And - try not to run afoul of any gang types while you're at it." His scowl had not softened in the least as he turned away and headed forward.
"Well, that settles that," Simon sighed.
"Yeah," Kaylee muttered, uncomfortably brushing her hair aside. "Well, guess I'd better...."
"Right." With all due and proper reluctance, Simon turned and departed the engine room, leaving Kaylee to her work.
Mal, still convinced that he knew who the mutual friend might be, passed from dining area to forward hall with focused mind, headed to his cabin. But as he passed the upper hatch, he found himself, to his discomfiture, holding his breath. It didn't take him long to realise why: the more effort he poured into forgetting Inara, the harder he braced himself for her to appear around the corner and boast about her glamourous client and his (her?) high-browed lifestyle, a far cry from Mal's pursuits of petty thievery. A reminder was in order. Sighing, Mal detoured away from the forward hall and headed for the stairs to the cargo bay.
The #1 shuttle was cold and empty, a deserted little fort without a defense. The scent of incense still hung mildly in the air, even if it was only Mal's imagination. He leaned heavily in the doorway, looking around the shuttle once, remembering the deep, sensuous hues of Inara's carpet, draperies and furniture, the smells of candles, incense and tea. Then he looked around a second time, taking in the bare and cold metal walls and the dark instrument panels in the cockpit. The shuttle was as dark and silent as a tomb.
Mal glanced down, spying a stray blue feather that had somehow parted from its garment β whether garment or decoration, Mal neither knew nor cared. He stooped to the feather and lifted it, staring at it, presently sniffing it, wondering if it still withheld an aroma of incense or perfume: all it withheld was the threat of a sneeze. Mal sighed and wondered for the trillionth time why he was even going through the motion. He pushed himself from the doorway: there was no more life there, no more love, no more Inara. If not for his vivid memories of her - all the arrangements, all the banter, all the conversations and fights they'd had - it would have been too easy altogether to imagine that she had never even been here.
But by no means, he reflected, was it a sufficient reminder that she was no longer with him.
εθΏ
Unbeknownst to Mal, River had been lying silently on a container below the catwalk. She couldn't help a feeling of sympathy for the lonesome captain, for even though he had accepted her presence on his ship she wasn't sure she was welcome by all hands. Mal was aching all over at losing Inara, much as River still did when she felt everyone's fear: and Mal had so little happiness of his own to begin with, River could only feel sorry for him that he couldn't sense anyone else's even if he wanted to.
She sat up on the container as Mal exited the shuttle and listlessly threw the feather over the catwalk railing. The cold air outside Serenity mingled with the warm air within, currents formed, and the feather drifted slowly hither and yon toward the deck β but never quite made it. River spied it as it flitted aimlessly in the direction of the airlock. She arose and blew at the feather, sending it upward again. It fell to a receding air current and coursed toward the common area, but River blew at it again, sending it toward the airlock.
She smiled as the feather responded, floated up and then down again, and answered her exhalations, flying with renewed strength toward the outside air. She hurried after it and blew it further still, and it seemed to rise higher and higher with each breath. River huffed and puffed and cavorted in a sightless zigzag along the cargo deck, her whole being focused on keeping the feather aloft, not noticing Mal as he walked slowly past her, eyeing her askance. River was being River, but the last thing Mal wanted was to have Simon breathing down his neck if she hurt herself.
The feather floated far up and away, and with River's help it overcame the indifferent air currents. High and light on the air, it flew strongly toward the open airlock. Presently it fell behind a container, and River paused, waiting to see if it was lost. In a moment it reappeared from behind a cargo net, drifting back her way as if to say, Lo! here I am! You have been a loyal companion and I wish that we....
River's thoughts trailed off: 'companion' probably wasn't the most appropriate choice of terms even for the feather. She resumed blowing, bouncing and prancing after the feather until it approached the ramp, and even thereafter. Only when Mal exhorted a warning did she draw herself up short of chasing the feather to the ground.
"Ain't enough snow out here to break that thing's fall, way less yours," he told her. "What's with the pursuit of the wild feather, anyway?"
"Got to keep it airborne," River answered. "Keep it flying. It's all that's left. Don't want to let it be crushed under anyone's heel."
Mal looked pointedly away as he pulled his coat off and threw on an extra jacket beneath it. "Might just ask who you're really talkin' about if I didn't already have a brainload. Sayin' o' which, when we get out there, I want you to keep a brain out. Anything unseemly comes down on us, don't you waste a split lettin' me in on it, you hear?"
"I feel," River said quietly. Then she looked outside, spotting the feather, now on a slow downward glide to Serenity's starboard. "It's on the drift now. No one to keep it afloat. If it drifts too far....no one will care where it lands."