The Distance Between Them

Everything changed after Miranda.

River Tam was no longer lost inside her head. She now understood the ‘why’ of her life and that knowledge completed the puzzle. Kaylee said she’d been glued back together and River enjoyed the analogy, however simplistic it was. She liked the mechanic very much, maybe even loved her for bringing back the brother she remembered from her childhood. Simon effervesced with happiness again and River could see a string of multicoloured bubbles every time he smiled. He and Kaylee were connected, the link between them tangible enough to make River shimmer with excitement whenever she watched.

Observation was a necessary part of the learning process.

Since the bar fight at the Maidenhead on Beaumonde, Jayne had been watching River a lot. Sometimes she timed his focus, measuring the click of the chronometer and reading his burgeoning interest. His fear made her powerful, his desire was intriguing and sometimes, for the sake of research, she pleated the material of her dress in her fingers until it barely touched the tops of her parted thighs. The pulse of his blood made her heart beat faster, the shimmer energising her body.

“Jayne watches me,” she said, spinning around to stare incisively at the captain who was standing at one of the consoles in the cockpit.

He looked at her with a concerned expression and River pursed her lips. She hadn’t intended to worry him.

“He does,” agreed Mal, “and I’ve had words with him. He ain’t gonna act on it. If he tries anything I made certain he knows where he’ll be headed.”

River was silent as she considered the airlock and the aftermath of Ariel. “He won’t hurt me,” she said after several seconds had elapsed.

“Has to be said, you’re a gorram scary proposition.” Mal grinned at her and River wondered why she felt so much safer with him than she ever had with Simon.

“The reason Jayne won’t hurt me has nothing to do with fear.”

It was something much darker that she’d uncovered a glimpse of one time when she was delving into his memory. But that was his secret to tell, not hers.

“’Though he is frightened of the River Weapon,” she added.

Mal’s eyebrows curved downwards in a scowl that reminded her of the mercenary’s morning face.

“You can quit that gou shi right now,” he snapped. “You’re not a weapon. You ain’t any kind of an object. The Alliance dehumanised you and now you’re doing the self-same thing.”

Anger frizzled the air and River drew both feet up into the chair, arms locking tightly around her knees.

Mal held his hands up and took a penitent step toward her. “Sorry, Albatross. Didn’t mean to scare you.”

River laughed gleefully. How could he ever frighten her? “Silly. I’m trying to understand you without using this.” She pointed to her temple. “You protect me. You always have, even though I make you mad.”

He looked away. “No one should go through what you did. You’re just a little girl, gorramit.”

“Not so little.”

“Not now, maybe.”

“You were never afraid of me.”

“Nope. Though there were times I wanted rid of you for the sake of ease.”

River cocked her head to one side and watched the way his eyes sparked. There was loss inside him, a wallow of pain and sadness, but there was always life hidden within the mire.

“Are you reading me?” he asked.

“No. I’m thinking about you. It’s a different procedure entirely.”

Mal frowned and River could tell he was discomforted by the idea.

“Shouldn’t you be concentrating on flying my boat? Wash did a lot more piloting and a lot less yapping.”

“Wash wasn’t able to program the nav as far in advance as I can.”

Mal shook his head helplessly, looking back down at the screen and scrolling through a ream of data transmissions. Then all of a sudden he stopped what he was doing. “What are you thinking, then? ‘Bout me, I mean to say.”

It was so out of character for the captain to ask something personal that River was startled into a long silence, during which time she collected her thoughts into a logical order, then presented them as such.

“You become silent when you’re sad,” she began. “You want to make everything right, but you know you can’t and this makes you feel impotent. You shut everyone out because you don’t want them to know how much you care.”

Mal glared at her. “Stop wandering ‘round inside my head.”

“I’m not,” said River. “I’m processing opinions and using them to answer your question.” She continued with her off-the-cuff analysis. “You go to sleep wishing you could find a way to bring Wash back for Zoë. Her sadness at losing her husband only emphasizes how alone you are and always have been.”

“Stop this now.” Mal strode across the cockpit towards her, his legs coming to rest against the edge of the seat.

Inching her toes forwards, River touched the material of his breeches. It was as soft as butter against her bare skin. “‘Protect’ and ‘love’ are muddled in your head,” she explained. “You only know how to do one or the other and your strongest desire is to keep everyone around you safe. You close off all other feelings.”

Mal knelt in front of her and there was something so very raw in his eyes. “Enough of this, River,” he murmured and it was a plea more than a demand.

“Then tell me I’m wrong,” she insisted.

He remained quiet, dented by the truth of her words, but his fire still burned brightly and River glowed from the heat.

“You wanted Inara in your head but not your heart. There were rational reasons for your choice. She wasn’t one of the crew. She was always on the outside, belonging to nobody. Too strong. Never needing your protection. No confusion.” She paused. “But you are confused because you want to be needed.”

Mal laced his fingers in and out of each other as if he didn’t know what to do with them and looking up, he never quite managed to look at her. “You’re strong.” His voice was hollowed out in an attempt to maintain the distance between them.

He was an absence and River needed him to be present.

“Strong, yes – but I need you,” she said, extending her legs in one single, sinuous movement to clamp them tightly around his body. “I shimmer when I look at you.”

DONE