Sapphires and Diamonds
By: Lil' Amethyst Angel
Note: I apologize for any spelling/grammar mistakes in advance.
Mal cups the pale cheek with a rough hand. River looks up at him with large eyes, shining with her usual deceiving naivety. As Mal stares into them he feels a lump rise in his throat and his gut twist. This is wrong. That's the one thought that thunders in his head over and over.
Mal feels guilty whenever he kisses her or touches her. He thinks he's horrible and sick for taking advantage of her like he does. River knows better. She's not as naïve as she seems. River knows she is, in fact, the horrible one because she knows that every time Mal does this he hates himself a little more, yet she does nothing to stop it. She's the one who is being selfish. She lets him hate himself so she can feel normal.
Normal.
That's why she started this and that's why she continues this- whatever this is. River wants, more than anything, something she can never have- to be normal. When she was younger, River would bask in the attention she got for being special, but now, it's different. She just wants to be like everyone else. She doesn't want to be treated like a porcelain doll or a frightened animal ready to strike out. She wants to be treated like River. With Mal, she's the closest to being River than any other time.
Mal's kissing her now, his eyes squeezed shut. Poor captain. Caught in a spider's web. Each time he struggles, trying to end this, he just becomes more tangled, like a tiny insect trying to break free.
"Sorry. Won't let you go. Sorry." River whispers, sincerely sorry.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
River traces Mal's lips with her fingertips. They're different than Simon's. Mal's lips are best for kissing. Simon's lips were best for smiling.
Her brother always had the most wonderful smiles. They were just like cotton candy- sweet and soft and she craved them. Those smiles told her he would always be there, always protect her, always love her. And he did. Does.
When she was a little, little girl and scared of the monster under her bed, she would call for Simon. He would run in and flash his smile. Comfort. Then he would get down on his knees and look under the bed. After making sure there was nothing there, he would stand back up and say goodnight and River could safely fall to sleep. Now, when Simon tries to scare away the bad monster from under with his smile the bed, there is no comfort, and River must deal with the monster by herself.
River used to be such an impetuous child, too smart to be ruled by stupid adult rules. When her parents discovered her transgression, as they sometimes did, they would scold her and send her to her room. River would stand by her window and weep for the cruelty of being unable to go play freely on such pretty days, of being caged. Later, while River sulked on her bed, Simon would sneak in. He would give her a candy and smile at her. Warmth. Now, when River is feeling trapped- inside her head, inside her nightmares, insider secrets, inside others' feelings and thoughts- Simon will smile, but she will feel only cold.
Often, nobody, not even their parents, could understand River and Simon's games. When they played they were in a world of their own, with their own rules, their own secret codes. It didn't matter if no one else understood, they did and that's what mattered. Their mother would watch them and just shake her head, sighing. River would turn to Simon and grin, managing to bite back a giggle, and Simon would smile right back. Joy. Now, Simon doesn't want to play games. He's grown up. Grown-ups aren't supposed to play games. River disagrees, grown-ups just play different kinds of games, and she doesn't like grown-up games. She's happy to remain a child. Simon doesn't understand this. Even worse, Simon doesn't understand her.
Now his smiles don't bring comfort or warmth or joy. They hurt. They hurt because they aren't his. River one tried to explain this to Simon. She sat in the infirmary while Simon injected a needle into her arm. She stared up at him as he did so. He smiled back. River frowned.
"It hurts."
Simon continued to smile, but the smile was even more painful now.
"I know. I'm sorry; I'm almost done." He took out the needle and placed a band-aid gently over the barely visible mark. "There, all done." Still, he continued to smile.
River knew, then, that she would never see those smiles again. And so she mourns his lost smiles.
River takes her hand away from Mal's lips. He looks down at her with a raised eyebrow.
"Yours are different." She says, as if that explains it all.
Maybe it does.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
River never tells anyone, neither does Mal. No one else needs to know. They wouldn't understand. They all see her as some traumatized little girl who's cracked by reality. But she's not broken, just fractured. Mal sees this, more than any of the others. That's why she went to him that first time.
Mal was in his bunk, lying on his bed, half asleep, when she tip-toed inside. She was standing right over him by the time he opened drowsy eyes. He bolted up in shock.
"What d'ya think you're doing?" He snapped, half curious, half annoyed.
"Looking."
He sighed.
Before he could move, River was kneeling on the bed, straddling his hips.
"What the hell?"
"Shush." River pressed a finger to his lips. "You want me. I want River back. You can bring me back. You'll take me, like a miner who settles for a sapphire when he can't find a diamond. You'll take me."
And he did.
The second time was much like the first. The captain was reluctant, but gave in. The third time, he didn't protest. After that, Mal would sometimes go to her first.
River never feels as guilty as she probably should. She knows she's using Mal, but she also knows Mal is using her. It doesn't matter, though. He helps her be River again and she pretends to be his diamond.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
River likes to dance. She likes to spin and twirl and pirouette and whirl until she's dizzy. She likes the way the world looks, rushing by. That's the way everything is in her head- blurring, flowing, flashing, clashing. She knows it makes her seem more like a child, and she doesn't mind. Being a child isn't such a bad thing. Being seen as a child when she's not is more troublesome. Mal knows she's not a child, and that is what's important.
She doesn't love Mal. The only person she loves is Simon. But she feels a great affection for him. Mal is hers, even if he doesn't realize it. She knows Mal in every possible way, even ways Mal doesn't know himself. She knows Mal is hers. She looks over to the others and smiles prettily at Mal. He doesn't see. His gaze is fixed on someone else. River frowns slightly. He's not hers alone, but he's still hers.
She continues to dance. She can feel Mal's eyes move back to her. She breaks out into a grin. Always hers.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
River is sitting on her bunk, leaning against the wall, hand tracing invisible patterns. She mumbles incoherently as her eyes roam the wall. That's how Mal finds her when he walks in. He didn't knock, she notes. Tsk tsk. That's rude. You're supposed to knock before entering. But then, he never does.
"What are you doing?"
He crosses his arms and leans against the doorframe- his typical posture.
"Talking to the shadows." She says it as though it's the most obvious thing.
He shakes his head and chuckles. He's never going to understand her. He doesn't know why he even tries. It's best just to not think about it.
"Only my girl would be found playin' with shadows."
"Talking, not playing." She corrects.
She stops tracing a dark pictures cast by her bedside lamp and turns to study Mal. He calls her 'his girl' sometimes and she can't figure out why. Kaylee's his girl. She's…she thinks for a moment. She's his sapphire.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
It had been a hard run. Bullets flew, blood rained. Mal was tired, soar, and angry. He was still riding out his adrenaline high. He needed River. She knew this and waited for him. Soon enough the others on board were asleep. That's when he came to her.
Now he's on top of her.
Lips on lips, lips on skin.
Touching.
Hands.
Sweat.
Tangled hair.
Soon to be bruises.
Heat.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Afterwards, as she finishes putting on her dress, he lays on the bed, staring blankly at the ceiling. He wonders why he keeps doing this.
She looks at his still form and tilts her head to the side, looking at him curiously.
"Because you know this is as close as you will ever get to having him."
With that simply said, she turns and skips away.