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Oct. 20th, 2005 01:57 amKaylee's choking and pulling the Reaver's darts from her throat; the foaming bandage-spray holds the skin of Zoe's back together, but there's only so much it can do. Bullets and darts and arrows are flying everywhere, and the Reavers' snarls and swinging blades. "Everybody fall back!" Zoe shouts. "Fall back!"
River barely notices when she's half-steered and half-carried through the doorway to the corridor beyond. The Reavers are too many, coming on too fast. They have to retreat to a more secure position.
It doesn't matter. The Reavers are still howling, baying for blood, screaming and snarling and dying in incoherent rage; she can't think, can't see, their bloodlust and pain are pounding in her head like the maces they swing, smashing her mind to pieces as she tries to hold it all. The gun dangles loosely from her hand.
Inara settles Kaylee on a box long enough to for her to lie full-length, and whirls to slap a control box on the wall. The blast doors close, irising shut. They'll be safe here; nothing's getting through those doors until they're reopened, not Reavers nor Alliance.
...Except the doors have just ground to a halt. Half-open. There's a gap over a yard square -- enough to squeeze through, enough to fire through. Enough that this is no safety at all.
River huddles against the wall, moaning.
"Jayne!" Zoe shouts. "Grenade!"
Jayne fumbles at his belt. "Very last one," he warns. Twists it on, and tosses it through the hole in the doors. Red fire explodes, and Reavers die screaming. None of the crew flinches, except River.
"They're gonna get in." Zoe is staring at the opening. The grenade only delayed things, and briefly.
"Can close it," Kaylee wheezes. A breath, and then she admits, "...From the outside."
"No one's coming back from that." Zoe tries to push herself up from the box she's sitting on, and gives up. Turns to Jayne instead. "How much ammo do we have?"
"We got three full cartridges and my swinging cod." He's grim. "That's all."
Inara is pounding the controls for the elevator at the back of the corridor. Nothing happens.
"When they come," Zoe tells the group, "try to plug the hole with 'em." It won't work, not well enough. They all know it.
The red, blood-hazed rage is still pounding through the air, slicing through River's brain. They're saying nothing, it's all they say, it's all they are, rage and hunger and pain, and it never stops. She presses against the wall, whimpering. She's trying to listen to her friends, to Simon, trying to be here and now, trying to be a tumbleweed instead of a stone but it's hard, it's so hard, she can't think and everything is hazed over.
Kaylee tries to shift, and chokes back a cry. Simon crouches next to her. "I'm startin' to lose some feeling here," she whispers. "I think there's something in them darts they throwed at me."
"Lie still." Even in this panic, Simon's voice is level and calm. He reaches for his bag. "I'm going to give you something to counteract the--" His bag's not there.
It's still outside the blast doors. Behind the crates they were crouched behind, back where they were, in the room that's now swarming with Reavers. Simon stands, looking at Zoe. "My bag--"
The bullet catches him in the stomach, and there's a breathless moment when time holds still for River and she can focus on his perplexed face before he crashes backwards to the floor, blood already starting to soak into his shirt, and she screams without making a sound.
Inara is already fumbling for cloth, pressing on the wound to staunch the blood -- Simon goes white -- and grabbing his hand to put it on top of the makeshift bandage. "Keep pressure here," she tells him. Her voice is almost steady.
"My bag," he whispers. There's a thin sheen of sweat on his face. "Need... adrenaline. And a shot of calaphar for Kaylee. I can't..." He looks over, with an effort. "River?"
She scrambles over. Kneels by him, and takes his hand.
The world has snapped into focus. Everything has receded but this, here, now.
"River," Simon whispers. "I'm sorry."
She's already shaking her head, tears bright in her eyes. "No. No." Shushing him.
"I hate to leave," he tells her.
"You won't." She swallows. Gently, "You take care of me, Simon." She comprehends, now. It's ontological. "You've always taken care of me."
She stands, slipping her fingers free of his. The world is steady around her. The howls are a dim thudding pulse. "My turn."
River whirls, and sprints down the corridor. If anyone shouts, she doesn't hear it, doesn't notice any grabs to stop her -- a dive carries her through the gap in the blast doors, and she hits the ground in a roll, already dodging as she comes to her feet.
It's only a slap of a button to start the doors closing again -- she spins, ducks, grabs Simon's bag and throws it through just before hands clutch at her arms and the hole disappears.
And it's just her and a roomful of Reavers.
River barely notices when she's half-steered and half-carried through the doorway to the corridor beyond. The Reavers are too many, coming on too fast. They have to retreat to a more secure position.
It doesn't matter. The Reavers are still howling, baying for blood, screaming and snarling and dying in incoherent rage; she can't think, can't see, their bloodlust and pain are pounding in her head like the maces they swing, smashing her mind to pieces as she tries to hold it all. The gun dangles loosely from her hand.
Inara settles Kaylee on a box long enough to for her to lie full-length, and whirls to slap a control box on the wall. The blast doors close, irising shut. They'll be safe here; nothing's getting through those doors until they're reopened, not Reavers nor Alliance.
...Except the doors have just ground to a halt. Half-open. There's a gap over a yard square -- enough to squeeze through, enough to fire through. Enough that this is no safety at all.
River huddles against the wall, moaning.
"Jayne!" Zoe shouts. "Grenade!"
Jayne fumbles at his belt. "Very last one," he warns. Twists it on, and tosses it through the hole in the doors. Red fire explodes, and Reavers die screaming. None of the crew flinches, except River.
"They're gonna get in." Zoe is staring at the opening. The grenade only delayed things, and briefly.
"Can close it," Kaylee wheezes. A breath, and then she admits, "...From the outside."
"No one's coming back from that." Zoe tries to push herself up from the box she's sitting on, and gives up. Turns to Jayne instead. "How much ammo do we have?"
"We got three full cartridges and my swinging cod." He's grim. "That's all."
Inara is pounding the controls for the elevator at the back of the corridor. Nothing happens.
"When they come," Zoe tells the group, "try to plug the hole with 'em." It won't work, not well enough. They all know it.
The red, blood-hazed rage is still pounding through the air, slicing through River's brain. They're saying nothing, it's all they say, it's all they are, rage and hunger and pain, and it never stops. She presses against the wall, whimpering. She's trying to listen to her friends, to Simon, trying to be here and now, trying to be a tumbleweed instead of a stone but it's hard, it's so hard, she can't think and everything is hazed over.
Kaylee tries to shift, and chokes back a cry. Simon crouches next to her. "I'm startin' to lose some feeling here," she whispers. "I think there's something in them darts they throwed at me."
"Lie still." Even in this panic, Simon's voice is level and calm. He reaches for his bag. "I'm going to give you something to counteract the--" His bag's not there.
It's still outside the blast doors. Behind the crates they were crouched behind, back where they were, in the room that's now swarming with Reavers. Simon stands, looking at Zoe. "My bag--"
The bullet catches him in the stomach, and there's a breathless moment when time holds still for River and she can focus on his perplexed face before he crashes backwards to the floor, blood already starting to soak into his shirt, and she screams without making a sound.
Inara is already fumbling for cloth, pressing on the wound to staunch the blood -- Simon goes white -- and grabbing his hand to put it on top of the makeshift bandage. "Keep pressure here," she tells him. Her voice is almost steady.
"My bag," he whispers. There's a thin sheen of sweat on his face. "Need... adrenaline. And a shot of calaphar for Kaylee. I can't..." He looks over, with an effort. "River?"
She scrambles over. Kneels by him, and takes his hand.
The world has snapped into focus. Everything has receded but this, here, now.
"River," Simon whispers. "I'm sorry."
She's already shaking her head, tears bright in her eyes. "No. No." Shushing him.
"I hate to leave," he tells her.
"You won't." She swallows. Gently, "You take care of me, Simon." She comprehends, now. It's ontological. "You've always taken care of me."
She stands, slipping her fingers free of his. The world is steady around her. The howls are a dim thudding pulse. "My turn."
River whirls, and sprints down the corridor. If anyone shouts, she doesn't hear it, doesn't notice any grabs to stop her -- a dive carries her through the gap in the blast doors, and she hits the ground in a roll, already dodging as she comes to her feet.
It's only a slap of a button to start the doors closing again -- she spins, ducks, grabs Simon's bag and throws it through just before hands clutch at her arms and the hole disappears.
And it's just her and a roomful of Reavers.
