The girl sat crouched in front of the railing, staring down into the cargo bay. Her fingers weaved through the bars in front of her. She gripped them, tighter and tighter, until her knuckles were white with the effort. Her legs were bent under her, leaving her balanced on the very tips of her toes. Long, disheveled hair fell in waves over her shoulders. Some of it brushed over her face and fell in strands over her eyes. She didn't bother to brush it back out of the way. Her attention was elsewhere. Dark, vague eyes followed the people who walked in the cargo bay below. They were unfamiliar to her, a rag-tag bunch of pirates that had taken them in, but there was one form below she knew. Simon.
He had brought her here two weeks ago. Her poor Simon, the ever-dutiful older brother. Older and more tired than when she had seen him last. More confident, and somehow, more scared. It was all there, inside his head, in his thoughts. He'd always been so easy to read, even for her. But the one thing she hadn't calculated was how far he'd go. He had risked everything to get her out of that place.
Needles moving closer pain pain everywhere all of it I can feel all of it it isn't mine it isn't mine it isn't -
She stood abruptly, her fingers falling away from the bars as she rose to her feet. Her throat had closed in on itself, her chest tightening, clenching down on her ribs and lungs. Practice and will alone allowed her to loosen again. Move. She had to move. Once, she had been a dancer, light and joyful and alive. Now she was not, but moving was all she had. It cleared her mind.
Her head turned away from the cargo bay and the people below. Slowly, with ghost-like softness, she stepped away from the railing and down the hallway. As she walked, her hand reached out to the wall, fingers brushing lightly against the cool metal walls. Her movement was vague, dreamy, haunted, but still beautiful. Still the movement of a dancer, but a much different dance.
As her bare feet brushed against the grated floor, she tried to push away the memories that had risen up so suddenly. It was a futile measure; they always came back. Hid in little corners, waiting for the happy moments, waiting to pounce and drag her back into darkness. Moments spent giggling and gossiping with Kaylee, evenings in the kitchen with the crew laughing and sharing stories, the few snatches of joy she had throughout the day, were always ruined in the end. The darkness she had held back in those hapy moments always managed to return. Memories of what they'd done. Experiments. Memories that weren't hers. Probably ones she hadn't even remembered yet. Hands had reached in and put them there, where they weren't welcome. Reached inside her head and moved around the cogs and springs. Ripped out pieces, put in the new, left her running faster and more efficient, left her screaming.
Her feet barely made a sound as she moved through the still air of the ship, a still, haunted dance that took her reluctantly forward. The memories weren't the only change. Before, she had been what could be called intuitive. She could read other people if she wanted, if she chose to. Now the voices from other peoples minds were hers to hear whether she wanted them or not, and they never stopped, they never let her rest. Thoughts and feelings and emotions and pain that weren't hers. She shouldn't have to bear it. She didn't know if she could.
Her fingers tapped against the metal wall, harsh in their softness. Her ability to read others had been amplified, but the rest of her mind had been fractured in the process. Thoughts no longer waited in a neat line, each coming to mind in their order. Now they were scattered and broken and never hers to control. Fragments floated by, sometimes making sense, sometimes not. She wasn't sure what was real anymore. Those people hadn't just reached inside her head and given her memories and power. They had taken too, so much. Maybe too much. Maybe she was too broken to hope.
She silently ascended the stairs, coming wisp-like into the bridge of the ship. The pilot, a cheerful, simple man with a silly name was sitting in the pilot's seat, looking away from her. She didn't make herself known. Her legs bent in front of her as she sat on the grating several feet behind the pilot, wrapping her arms around her legs and turning her face up toward the window. The vast blackness of space stared back at her. She could feel it inside her, space and suns and cold metal. A void inside her as empty and black as the reaches of space. As her large, dark eyes dragged over the vast expanse, she wondered if she would ever again feel the light warmth of the stars.
This is actually an older piece, written around the end of last school year. I was in a creative writing class, and our assignment was to write a piece based on a character's insight. I decided to make a fanfic, and I chose River as the character who I'd write about.
I made it vague enough that it wasn't confusing to those who hadn't seen the show. To my surprise, though, there were quite a few Browncoats in my class. Anyway, even though it was sort of written for a non-Browncoat audience, it still works for Browncoats, so I decided to post it.