river_meimei | (no subject)

(no subject)

Earlier today, River went to Milliways and spent half the afternoon meandering out by the lake in the early-autumn sunshine.

Now, it's a different kind of outdoors she's looking at: curled up on the ship's bridge, head tipped back and coattails spreading around her, she's watching the stars through Serenity's wide front windows.

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"It's been awhile since you've gone out," a low voice comments from behind River's perch. "Maybe you can convince Simon to go out with you this time."

Darkly: "He fusses."

River doesn't turn around, but there's a hint of a smile in her voice.

"Think that's an inherited trait, really."

Mal doesn't really specify from whom, and moves into one of the pilot seats, propping a boot up on a control panel.

So.

"What's the news? Anythin' I should be aware on?"

River glances at him over her shoulder.

"You are," she says, after a moment, matter-of-factly.

Saves on dancing around a topic, at least.

"Kaylee and I did have a bit of a palaver not long ago. Was just curious about your end o' the landscape."

River's face tightens just a little.

She waits, eyes on Mal, fingers shifting slowly against the slightly threadbare hem of her skirt.

It's a long moment before she says, low, "She's Kaylee." She's not trying to be difficult; maybe it's the most complete answer she has. (On the other hand, even River knows it's not a very helpful one.)

"I know she is. She's my mechanic. Your sister-in-law."

Not that he thinks the 'in-law' part is very important, in this context.

"If you two got issues I need to be aware on, maybe you should try tellin' me. Just so's to be...complete."

River looks away, out at the stars.

She's quiet for a long moment; long enough it maybe seems she won't answer, while her hands make tiny slow shifts against fabric and her face stays tight and sober.

Then, low, "Won't listen."

She moves her head in an abrupt, small jerk -- maybe negation, or maybe frustration at her own words. "I try and, and. She doesn't hear it. Every time."

"Got somethin' against 'er?"

"She's my friend."

Lower, "Used to be."

She's not looking at Mal; she's looking at the metal skin of Serenity, down below the window panels, or at the empty air, or at nothing.

"I don't know how much it actually helped, but I did try to remind her of that."

After years of convincing himself that he was not going to play marriage counselor, or relationship counselor, or friendship counselor, Mal's finally coming around to the notion that maybe that was in the Captainly Fine Print he tries so hard to ignore.

"We've killed folk."

River looks up at him.

She's confused, a little, maybe; maybe just listening. The boundary between the two is fuzzy, with River.

"I know it."

"Some people are going to have issues with that, River."

It's feeble, for starting a conversation. Especially starting a conversation with someone who one should probably be as specific as possible. Where does he start?

"Did you ever get in trouble with your ba when you were little?"

The subject change (if it is one) catches River by surprise; she blinks at Mal for a moment before her face shifts into a mild version of an expression Mal knows very well. It says: you know the answer to THAT, captain.

Simon calls her a brat affectionately, and with reason.

"He can love you without understanding you."

River's face shifts: the same expression, in part, but more of a crooked smile, now.

"I know it," she says again.

"Good."

Now all I need is for Kaylee to know it, and a million platinum. Shiny.

The smile, faint though it is, slides away after a moment, and River turns her face back to the stars.

For a few slow breaths, the only sound is two people breathing, and the quiet background noises of Serenity.

"Kaylee doesn't."

"Used to. Now she doesn't listen. Gets mad."

"She don't understand, you mean?"

In that tone of I better have heard it that way.

River's hands tighten on her shins, and slowly spread against skin and fabric.

"She used to try." Down deep, there's something like pleading in there.

What's at the heart of this: Being psychic doesn't make you perfect, and doesn't make you understand everything, and doesn't make you able to fix every problem. And what's at the heart of this: River misses her friend.

There's not many people on the ship that see Mal upset in a way that isn't also in the category of 'gun-wieldy'.

Nobody understands anybody anymore, and Mal can't fix it. He holds his right hand in his left and twists outward, cracking his wrist with a satisfying pop. The left gets taken care of too.

"I tried to tell her...I tried to say that having issue with folk who don't give you cause to your face ain't the best way to go about things. I don't know what she took from that."

River's in front of Mal, and to the side; he may or may not be able to see her face soften in a rueful half-smile down at the floor.

Okay, says her expression. And, maybe.

(It'd be nice. And -- maybe.)

It's hard to see through the hair.

He can imagine.

"Can't see how to do much elsewise."

River glances up; hair falls across her face, but not enough to obscure her expression when she's looking right at him.

"You do."

The direct gaze catches Mal's own, and the eye contact lingers before a smirk lets Mal get out of it.

"At least I got a way."
Sure as ruttin' hell ain't ever got a plan
Mal rights himself again, adjusting; probably headed back out off the bridge. "Think we got a game still goin' somewhere, 'less Jayne messed with the board."

Edited 2008-10-08 03:50 (UTC)

"He's meddlesome," River agrees solemnly, following the subject shift.

Think we're all gettin' that way.

A hand hesitantly lifts and drops again onto River's shoulder, not even linger long enough for heat transfer before Mal pulls back.

"Come find me later; Inara won't play fair."

River's eyes flick to the air where Mal's hand was, a second too late, and then back up to his face.

The smile's smaller, this time, but the affection's clearer. "It's a deal."

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