Barque in the Harbour

by Pri Maclay

Stopped in port at New Melbourne, Mal meets an enchanting young dancer.

From a barque in the harbour I went roaming on shore
And stepped into a pub where I was oft times before
And as I was sitting and enjoying my glass
Who chanced to walk in but a young Spanish lass

Mal Reynolds is a man who loves his ship.

After the Battle of Serenity Valley and losing the war, he had spent a few years in an Alliance prisoner of war camp. The feeling of being trapped with no way to escape, no where to call home, and helplessness had left a lasting impression on him. When he was finally free, the first thing he did was find Zoë and get the both of them a proper meal. Of course, the only proper meal they could afford and still have money left over wasn't really proper. The two sat behind a busy restaurant, hiding in the shadows, and each time trash was taken out, they scoured the bins for something. Mal had been certain at that moment that his mother would roll over her grave if she knew what he was doing- If she had a grave to roll in that is. He had tried to brush that thought away that night. Mal didn't need an excuse to hate the Alliance after his time in the camp, but hearing the news about Shadow had only made it worse.

Mal and Zoë ate that night until they were both full, which neither of them had been in awhile. The next morning, they ate breakfast in a similar fashion, in the alley where they had slept. There was only one thing on their mind at that point, and it was to get more money. That had been harder than finding food. No one wanted to hire "untrustworthy Browncoats." Still, they had found it, and Mal saved until he had enough to buy a ship. His ship. Serenity, a Firefly class vessel. In her, he found freedom, a home, and even a small bit of hope that managed to grow in his broken heart.

Serenity had set down on New Melbourne earlier in the day. Mal, Zoë, and Jayne had seen that the job was completed. Mal managed not to get injured, and in celebration, he had decided to stay dirt-side for the rest of the day. Generally speaking, New Melbourne was a place that was all about fish. However, the sea had been pleasant to sit and look at while the day was warm. The salt and sea smell lingered in his brown hair.

That was hours ago, and now with the sun down, Mal finds himself in the bar he always comes to when he touches down on New Melbourne. He hasn't been in the place for nearly two years now, but it didn't change much. It's a typical kind of place, except for the stage at one end that the room centers around. He sips his drink, wonders where the rest of his crew is. Kaylee, without a doubt, is on Serenity, most likely in her hammock. While Wash had kept watch over the ship, Kaylee had gone down to the junkyard to see what she could get for the engine. Mal smiles at the thought of Kaylee with grease on her cheek, humming happily around the engine room. He suspects that when she finishes with the engine room, she'll head to Inara's shuttle. Zoë and Wash are most likely in a hotel: Zoë, enjoying a real bath and Wash, enjoying the sight of his wife bathing. Jayne is in the same pub as Mal, sitting at the bar, already half-drunk and cozied up to a blonde with large breasts. The captain sips his drink and pays no attention to his drinking mercenary.

The lights in the bar dim a bit, and the ones on the stage brighten. Soft, sultry music begins to play, and from out of the shadows, a woman appears.

She's a tiny thing, Mal notices first off. He guesses that were she to stand in front of him, she'd barely reach his shoulder. Her features are small and delicate, but powerful as well. The dress she wears, tight in the bodice and loose in the skirt, clings to her soft, round curves, only two thin straps holding it up. Long, wavy brown hair falls to her hips, and the sheer red fabric contrasts perfectly with her pale skin. Mal wonders for a moment why she's onstage, if she's going to sing, but then, she begins to dance, and Mal stops thinking altogether.

He's never seen anyone dance like this. Her movements flow together, one blending into the next. She raises her skirt provocatively, slides low into a split, and elegantly twists her body in an alluring way that allows her to rise to her feet once more in a fluid moment. The woman moves with complete grace; she smiles at the crowd, and there are a few lucky men that Mal thinks idly must be locals, who offer their hands out to her, and she gives them each a few moments of her time, taking the money from their outstretched palms from the stage with dignity and sultriness that is a "thank you" without words. Her clothes never come off, but she teases them horribly, smiling and moving that tiny, lithe body in a way that drives them all crazy. When the song finishes, she slides back into the shadows, and most of the men in the room are panting.

Mal isn't panting, but that's only because he's using every bit of self-control he possesses. He can't remember the last time he was this aroused, that a woman had captivated him so completely. It's been over a year since the last time he shared time alone with a woman, nearly eight since he's felt this strong of an urge within his loins. Mal takes another drink and forces himself to breathe easy; if he doesn't, he knows it'll be damn embarrassing when he has to head for the door.

"Your table seems lonely," a sweet feminine voice says, and when Mal lifts his blue eyes from his empty glass, they meet the deep brown ones of the dancer who had minutes before captivated him. "Can I sit with you?"

She sat down beside me and kept squeezing my hand
Saying 'Sir you're a stranger not long to this land
'Will you roam, Jolly Sailor, would you roam along with me
To some lonesome spot where nobody can see?'

Mal swallows heavily, but speaks without hesitation. "Can't say I'd like much more than that, this evening."

She smiles, drops into the seat next to him, and angles the chair at the square table so she can look more directly at him. "My name is River," she tells him. "Did you enjoy my dance?"

"I did," he says. "But, so did every other man in this bar. I'm Mal Reynolds."

"I-" River stops herself and then smiles. "It's nice to meet you, Mal."

"Nice to meet you, River."

River takes a sip out of the bottle she brought with her to the table, and when she places it back, she reaches her hand out for his. Mal finds he likes the feather-like weight of her slim, soft hand on his large calloused one. He curls her fingers into his palm, and she smiles at him. River doesn't speak, and Mal clears his throat.

"That was some mighty fine dancin' you did up there," he compliments.

She frowns a bit, but the twinkle doesn't leave her eyes. "It's different from what I grew up doing," she says honestly. "I started taking ballet lessons when I was three." She pauses, and then squeezes his fingers. "I like this, though. It's freeing, liberating. Makes me feel powerful and…" River stops abruptly and then grins. "Well."

Mal grins back. He has a pretty good idea of how it makes her feel.

"How'd you get here?" he asked her. "Sounds like home's pretty far from here."

She shakes her head. "The planet I was raised on is far from here. Home's just around the corner." Squeezing his hand again, she replied to his question. "Got here by luck, careful calculations, and determination to be free."

It's Mal's turn to frown. "Where were you raised?"

"Osiris, in a large house with an older brother and all kinds of sophistication that didn't mean a thing once I left it." Her eyes go dark for a minute, but she brushes it away, tightens her hold on his fingers just as she had a couple minutes before. "What about yourself?" she asks. "How'd you get here?" The question isn't unwarranted, but it almost sounds stilted, like she's reading from some script Mal can't see.

"I captain a ship," Mal tells her. "Firefly class called Serenity. Travel all over the 'Verse in her."

River nods, and Mal would almost swear it's like she knew that before he answered. "You're a sailor, then," she says. "You sail the skies, like a captain on the sea. A sailor of skies."

"I reckon I resemble that remark."

"Sounds like home's pretty far for you, too," remarks River, and takes another drink from her bottle.

"Grew up on Shadow, on a ranch with my mother and about forty hands…" He pauses. "Been awhile since I talked about Shadow."

"You haven't said much," prompts River with a kind smile.

For the first time in years, Mal follows his pleasant memories. "Always a lot of work to do on a ranch. Don't suppose you'd know much about that, bein' from Osiris. Horses to feed, and cows to take care of- By the time night came, you'd be dog-tired, but content. Sleep came easy back then. Mama always had supper ready at the same time, and I'd go to bed tired, with a full stomach, eager for morning to come."

"Sleep doesn't come so easy now, does it?"

Mal is a little taken aback by her, but he answers anyway. "Not always." He clears his throat. "What about you? What was it like on Osiris?"

The twinkle in River's eyes seems to dull a bit, but he thinks maybe it's just the lighting 'cause when she speaks, her voice is cheerful and light, rolling along pleasantly like music.

"Lovely. My brother, Simon, played with me even when he got too old to. My parents were immensely proud of me. My father liked to play chess with me, and I let him pretend he had let me win. I used to like to watch my mother get ready for the parties they went to. She was beautiful, my father was handsome, and our house was both."

"Why would you leave? Sounds like you were happy there."

"Aren't you glad I did?" she asks, and Mal recognizes the question for what it is. She's artfully changing the subject. Obviously, he's hit a sore part of her insides, and he didn't mean to. As he thinks this, he sees her eyes warm and soften toward him, and he thinks S'almost like the little bird heard me. He pushes the thought away so he can answer her question.

"I'd be a liar if I said I wasn't."

That warmth turns to something else, something hotter, and River scoots her chair closer to him, runs her fingers over his wrist and laces them with his. Her voice is soft and poetic, almost a hum.

"You're a stranger, not long to this land," she murmurs. "Tell me, Sir, would you come along with me?" Softer, she says, "Roam along with me, won't you, Sailor? Somewhere nobody can see."

I quickly consented with her for to roam
She lived by herself in a neat little home
She was brisk, plump and jolly and her age scarce 19
And the name of that maiden I think was Irene

Mal takes her meaning quickly, nodding without hesitation. River smiles and stands, her hand still in his. Mal rises beside her, and without a backward glance, she leads him out of the pub.

River's home is, as she had said, just around the corner. It takes them less than five minutes to walk there, and he follows her up two flights of stairs, never letting her hand go until she unlocks her door with a very old-fashioned kind of key.

"New Melbourne has a lot of traditions," she says, answering his unasked question. "I like traditions. They're nice."

"I reckon they are," replies Mal, happy when she reaches out to take his hand once more and gently pull him into her apartment.

Her home is neat and tidy. Tucked away in one corner stands a bed, held off the floor with a wooden bed frame tied together with thick cords of leather, a blue woven quilt on it, along with two bright white pillows that laid flat on the mattress. A tiny table with scars in the wood holds its place in the center of the room, a vase of roses on it, and two chairs on either side. A kitchen, equipped with a stove, a sink, and something to hold perishable items in, sits in the diagonal corner. In the corner next to the bed sits a free-standing bathtub. On the floor next to it is a large bucket. Mal assumes she carries hot water (or, he at least hopes it is hot) from the sink to the bath. He wonders what she does with the water when she's done bathing. The corner facing the foot of the bed held a wardrobe, and next to the wardrobe sat a trunk, with a small doll on top. He's already figured she's younger than he is- Mal knows she can't be more'n nineteen, but still the doll throws him for a second.

She catches the way his gaze lingers on the doll.

"She won't look," River assures him with a wicked grin. "I promise."

Mal looks at her hungrily, at that red dress she's in, and then pulls her to him, unable to resist touching her now that they're alone. "I don't care if she does," he growls and crushes his lips against hers.

River responds with a hunger of her own and presses her body forward, wrapping her arms around his neck to keep him against her, his lips to hers, and she tangles her fingers in his hair. Mal holds her hips tightly and draws them flush with his so she can feel his arousal, pleased when she gives a soft moan into his mouth. He cups her ass in his hands and lifts her off the floor easily, as though she weighs nothing, and she fluidly wraps her legs around his hips.

He takes a step forward, and she pulls away.

"Table," she tells him. "Faster than bed."

He agrees without a word, content to kiss her soft lips as he walks quickly to the center of her room. Mal sits River on the table, and once she's settled, she runs a hand down her chest, unbuttoning his shirt, though she leaves his duster on, as she holds his lips hostage with hers. When she reaches his waist, she pulls away, and presses her forehead against Mal's, looking into his eyes as she undoes his pants and takes his length into her soft, warm hand.

"Wo de ma," he gasps, seeing the delight in her eyes as she strokes him.

His impatience grows stronger, and he kisses her again, pushing her skirt up her thighs and hooking his fingers around the bands of the flimsy material that stands between him and what he needs so desperately right now. River's happy to aid him, shifting to make it easier, and after he drops the garment to the flower, he reaches out to her center once more. He happy to find that she's just as ready as he is, but he take his time for a few minutes, teasing her, enjoying the way she gasps and bites his earlobe. Beginning to rub circles around her most sensitive spot, her breaths come shorter, and she leans back, a hand behind her to support her weight as she lifts her hips to press harder against his hand, one hand still cupping his neck.

"Mal," she says to him. "Mal, take me."

It doesn't take any more than that for him to take himself in his hand and guide his hardness into her slick heat. River groans as, slowly, he fills her, the grip on his neck tightening and her legs wrapping back around his hips. Mal buries himself to the hilt, then places a hand on the underside of her thigh and stays still for a moment to steady himself. She's tight around him and hotter than hell, and after a few seconds, River flexes even tighter around him, telling him silently to move, and he complies without argument.

His first few thrusts are slow, but she meets them, and looks at him with such want that he begins to increase his pace steadily, making sure to full sheath himself each time. Mal raises a hand to the one that's on his neck and rests it on her wrist, two fingers over her jack-rabbiting pulse. She seems to like that, her thumb finding his as though an answer to his own action, and the pressure on his neck adds to everything else he's feeling, and he grips her thigh harder.

Mal drives himself into her, fast and hard, River meeting his every thrust with an equal amount of passion. It's hard to keep his control, but he wants to see the look on her face, wants to see what this little witch looks like. He's no more than thought it than she grins at him, and then her lips part and she drops her head back and lets out a soft yell.

"Maaaal," she cries out, and she spasms, her legs twitch and tremble and pull him tighter to her.

The sight of her, the feel of her coming undone is too much for Mal, and with one last, powerful thrust, he splinters and breaks, and growls, "Riverrrr." It crosses the very, very back of his mind that it's been almost a decade since he called someone's name out during this act.

Moments pass, and when their breathing slows somewhat, they lock eyes and smile sweetly at one another. Mal takes the wrist he holds in his hand and presses it to his lips, and then kisses her palm. He folds his hand over her fingers, and when she sits up, he slides out of her, and she takes the hand that was on her thigh into her own.

"Again?" she asks.

Mal laughs out loud. "Yes," he says. "Again."

"Slower, this time?" River ponders, tilting her head curiously.

He nods, and sweeps her into his arms, carries her to her bed and stands her in front of it. "Much slower," he says, and the words are a promise as he shrugs out of his coat.

Mal sits on the edge of her bed and starts taking of his boots, while River makes quick work of his suspenders, and stands again, pulling off her shoes with ease. He grabs her hand and pulls her down onto his lap and kisses her gently on her mouth.

"Gorram, girl," he whispers to her. "What did you do to me?"

"Nothing you didn't want me to," she whispers back with a smirk. "Felt you watching me when I was dancing. Liked the way your eyes touched me. Wanted this before I heard your voice in my ear."

Mal groans at her words, pushing her back against her pillows. She rolls them so they lay side by side, and he brushes the hair out of her face.

"You're beautiful. Did you know that?"

River smiles. "I've been told a few times. Mostly by inebriates at the bar. Never by someone sober- At least, that wasn't my brother."

Mal grimaces. "How about we not talk about your older brother?"

River's smile blossoms into a full-on grin. "That's fine with me."

To keep her from teasing him, Mal leans forward to ghost a kiss against her lips. He trails a fingertip down the side of her face and then runs down her throat to the hollow of her breasts. River shivers in delight at his touch.

"That's a lovely dress, darlin'," says Mal. "But, I'd take it as a kindness if you took it off."

River reaches out a hand to the shirt he still wears, and his pants. "Only if you'll do the same."

Mal grins, makes short work of his pants and shirt, and watches as River pulls the dress over her head and drops it to the floor. She's gorgeous, with flawless pale skin on every inch of her, her breasts just big enough to fit into his palm, with small, pink nipples. Mal reaches out, covers one of those breasts with his hand and gives it a gentle squeeze as he rubs his thumb over her nipple, feeling it harden under his touch. River lets out a soft little moan and runs her hand down his side, traces the scar she finds on his left hip. Mal slides his hand over her ribcage and down her spine until it rests upon the small of her back, and then he pulls her flush against him. They both let out a moan as their nakedness presses fully against the other's, the feel of skin igniting a fire in both of them that starts low in their bellies and rises up their chests to their hearts.

Their free hands find each other and clasp together, laying above their heads, their mouths joined together. Mal tightens his grip on her, his arousal trapped between their bodies and each time she moves against him, the feel of her sweaty skin causes him to groan with pleasure. He can't believe just how much he wants her again, how much he suddenly can't stand the idea of going slow. As much as he wants to worship those breasts and taste what lies below those dark curls, the feel, sound and scent of her is driving him to heights of pleasant madness he never knew existed before. Her tongue flicks against his lips experimentally and he opens his mouth eagerly for her, pressing his tongue against her own and tasting the sweet beer she drank earlier and a hint of chocolate that mixes with the flavor of whiskey from his own mouth in a richly fulfilling way.

It took all the strength Mal Reynolds possessed to pull himself away from her sweet-tasting mouth. Her big brown eyes showed surprise, as well as disappointment.

"We keep up like this, I ain't gonna be able to go slow," he explains.

Mal bends his head, kisses his way down her throat and collarbone to a breast. He catches the hardened nipples in his mouth and sucks into his mouth, giving is a gentle bite. River gasps, and brings her hand to his hair as he begins to suckle at the sensitive bud. He let go of her hand to cup her other breast, his thumb rolling over the nipple, causing it to harden. She whimpered a little, and at the sound, Mal shifted his weight to press her flat onto her back.

Positioning himself between her legs, his stomach against her wetness, he tortured her breast, suckling and licking the nipple caught between his teeth and running his thumb in circles around her other. River's knees came up as she pressed herself against his body, trying to gain some measure of relief, and he switched breasts without warning, laving his tongue over the hardened pebble as he held the breast he was just suckling at in his hand, his fingers each taking a turn over the slick, hard peak. River curses vehemently, reclining by on the bed, her back arched against his mouth, her center pressed as hard against his stomach as she can manage.

Slowly, Mal kisses his way down her stomach and through that soft nest of curls, then reaches out with his tongue to run it between her slick folds. River lets out another curse, and Mal slides two fingers into her tightness, moving his tongue in lazy patterns over the most sensitive part of her flesh. River moans, one tiny fist gripping the quilt, the other tangled in his hair and she raises her hips to meet his tongue and fingers as they move together in a rhythm designed to undo her. Mal works against her, moving to the left or the right, just the opposite of what will bring her release and what will prolong her pleasure. He keeps her wound up tight and the longer he does it, the more he enjoys the little whimpers she's making and the way she keeps tightening around his fingers. Her taste fills his mouth, and he can't get enough of the salty-sweetness, nor the scent of her womanhood.

Finally, she makes a sound that makes his loins pulse with long, so he moves his tongue with her movements, and feels her come onto his fingers and tongue. Before she can speak a word, Mal moves up her body and rolls her on top of him, positioning her so she's straddling him. She lays against still against his chest for a moment, but Mal reaches down, uses his fingers to mimic the ministrations of his tongue just moments before, and within minutes, she sits up and pulls his hand away.

"My turn," she says to him, and Mal knows he's never known torture like the kind that's about to be done to him.

River laces his fingers with hers and gently slides herself onto his length. Mal leans his head back in pleasure, his free hand gripping her hip while hers sits dead center in his chest. In a pace so steady it feels she's hardly moving, River rises up his shaft and then settles back down, again and again, until he's trying his best to use that grip on her to make her move faster. She's having none of it, though, and though she moves just a little faster, she rides him slowly and deliberately. Mal groans, her hand sliding up just a bit to brush over a nipple, sending sensation down his spine and straight to his hardness.

"River," he manages to get out. "Need to-"

"Not yet," she tells him, and he has no reply for that, no possible course of action but to lay there and let her take him and torture him so wonderfully.

She gradually moves faster, squeezing herself around him, and he moans, releases his hold on her to brush the long hair out of her eyes and cup her cheek.

"Please," he says to her, voice thick with pleasure and need and want. "Please, bao bay."

She knows what he wants, and she's either tired of her game or just as desperate as him, because she drops to his chest, kisses his lips, and grips his shoulder with one hand, squeezes his with the other. He takes control without a second's hesitation, hips thrusting himself in and out of her as rapid and as hard as he can manage. She's gasping in his ear, her tongue reaching out to the scar to lick the sweat from him, and when she says, "please," he gives one last, powerful thrust that sends the both of them over the edge for an impossibly long and intense time where they both shake and grasp each other tightly as they ride out the waves of pleasure.

It's River who moves first, and she positions herself next to him, head reposed on his shoulder, her hand resting on his arm and a leg thrown possessively over him. She sighs happily as Mal wraps an arm around her and raises hand to her delicate wrist and bestows a gentle kiss to her damp forehead.

"Been awhile," he says in the silence, the only sounds in the room their soft breathing and a few quiet noises from the street below.

"For me too," replies River, snuggling closer to him. "A long while."

"Though," Mal continues, his voice thoughtful. "I can't say that I ever remember a woman pleasing me quite this well."

River laughs quietly and peers up at him. "Can't say I remember a woman pleasing me quite that well either." She laughs again at Mal's widened eyes. "I'm teasing you, Captain Reynolds." She lays her head back down and presses her lips gently against his skin. "Don't know that a man has ever pleased me quite so much. Especially not in one night."

He smiles, trails his fingers to her elbow and back to her wrist. "There been so many, little one?" he asks her gently, not wanting to spoil the comfortable intimacy.

She doesn't seem offended by the question, merely shakes her head. "No, not so many. A few though, since I've been here, and only a kiss before then."

Mal is quiet for a moment before he replies. "How long have you been here exactly, River?"

"Three years," she tells him. "I came here when I was sixteen."

"Alone?" He can't hide his surprise.

"Alone," River confirms. "Had no other choice." She catches his hand in hers and pulls it to her lips, pressing light, tiny kisses to his knuckles. She smiles at the scar on one of them. "How'd you get this?"

Mal can't help but respect River's talent for easily changing the subject. "In a bar on the first U-Day. They tell you never to hit a man with a closed fist, but-"

"It is, on occasion, hilarious," she finishes. "I know."

He smiles. "Best get some rest," he says.

"Yes," she agrees, and tilts her head up for one last kiss. "Best should. Have plans for you in the morning, sailor of skies."

Mal chuckles and manages to pull the quilt over them. "I like the sound of that," he murmurs, then closes his eyes and drifts into a peaceful slip.

One fine summer's morning our ship, she set sail
And down by the seashore lovely Irene she came
Waving her pocket handkerchief and wiping her eyes
'Don't leave me Jolly Sailor' were the words she did cry

The smell of coffee pulls Mal from sleep, and when he opens his eyes, he sees River at her tiny kitchen, as naked as she was last night, pouring herself a cup. She turns around and smiles as he looks at her.

"Good morning, love."

"Good morning," he replies, smiling back. "Think I could get some of that coffee?"

She pours another cup and steps light to her bed, seats herself next to him and hands him his cup. She studies him as he takes a drink.

"You'll have to leave soon, won't you?"

"I will," he says. "What time is it?"

"Early. Very early." She leans forward, brushes a kiss against his lips, then repositions to take another sip. "Early enough for coffee and kisses."

"Well, ain't that a pleasure."

"I'm hoping."

There's a shift in the air, and Mal begins to look for a place to place his cup. River takes it from him, sits both on the floor, and leans forward once more to claim his lips. She trails kisses down his neck and chest, then stops to move the blanket away from his waist. Her mouth hovers over his arousal, and Mal lets out a shaky breath as her eyes lock on his.

River presses a kiss to the tip, licks away the slight bit of moisture there before taking the head of it between her soft lips. Mal inhales sharply as she does so, begins to breathe shallowly as she takes the rest of him into her mouth, her tongue tracing figure-eights on the underside of it as she moves up and down. Mal reaches out to River's thighs, slides gentle fingers to their apex and finds she's already wet. As she uses her mouth to pleasure him, he uses his hand to pleasure her.

Mal knows when she's done because she moans onto his hardness, and he barely has time to grit out, "River, I'm going to-" before he does. She swallows all of it, then presses soft kisses to his softening manhood before taking the hand between her thighs and raising it to her lips. She sucks her juices from his fingers and then sits quietly for a moment, lets him put his hand on her face and stroke her cheek with his thumb.

"Know what we taste like together now," she tells him quietly.

"Oh?" he asks curiously. "How's that?" She smiles, doesn't answer at first. River leans down and hands him his coffee cup. As he takes a drink from it, she studies his face, then reaches out to touch his face. She smiles again, and Mal's not sure he's ever seen a prettier one.

"Not bad," she answers, non-committal, and Mal chuckles.

"That's good then."

She nods her agreement and then stands, slips over to her wardrobe and pulls on a lightweight blue dress. It comes to a V at the center of her chest, and flows out loosely over her hips. River pulls a belt from her closet and buckles it around her waist, accentuating her slight curves. Mal stands, pulls his pants on his first, checks his gun to make sure it's loaded even though he already knows it is, and then searches around for his shirt, his pants riding low on his hips.

Without a word, River retrieves both his shirt and her cup from the floor.

"Thank you," he tells her when she hands it to him.

"You're welcome." A beat passes. "I'd like to come with you to the shipyard. I want to see Serenity."

Mal's a bit surprised, but he tries not to show it. He doesn't rightly know what would make her want to, and he's sure if she asked, she would give an answer that didn't answer him at all. Buttoning his shirt, he looks at her expectant face.

"That's fine by me, bao bay," he says. "We'll leave in just a little while. I need to get back soon anyway, before the crew to make sure we're ready to go."

River grins thin, her eyes suddenly bright and shining. She sits on her bed and from beneath it pulls an old pair of combat boots. Mal sits next to her, and together they sit, in companionable silence, lacing up their boots. Mal thinks on her as they do, trying to place the feeling in his chest, and he realizes he's going to miss her. He barely knows anything about her, and he knows that, but he also knows he wouldn't mind the chance to get to know more. He tries his best to push the thought out of his head and can't quite manage it.

"Can always come back."

River's looking at him with those dark, pretty eyes of hers, no trace of a joke in them.

Now, ain't that strange, he thinks to himself. To her, he says, "I reckon I could. Don't know that you'd be here when I did."

"Always here. No where else to go, and I like it here. Sometimes, I work in the market for a day."

"You get the urge to gut sturgeon often?"

"More than one would think," she quips, and they both grin. "I'm just telling you. It wouldn't be hard to find me, if you ever wanted."

"I'll definitely keep that in mind."

"I'm sure you will."

Mal doesn't say it, but he's damn certain he will. He knows he'll be looking for any excuse to get back to this fish-filled planet.

The morning air is pleasant, and when Mal and River reach Serenity, he sees the ramp is already down and Zoë is in the cargo bay, doing what he had intended to upon returning.

"Wash is setting the course for Osiris now, Sir," she tells him, then looks at River. "Who's your friend, Captain?"

"I'm River." She extends her hand to Zoë. "Nice to meet you."

Zoë clasps her hand for a brief moment. "Same. I'm Zoë." She raises an eyebrow at Mal, but doesn't say anything.

"Right," says Mal. "We'll just be on our way. Whenever Jayne drags himself in, we'll head out."

"He should be here soon- Passed him in town on my way in. He was heading into the store, said he'd be here within the hour. Cargo's fine and ready to go, no need for you to check." She nods to River. "Glad to meet you, River," says Zoë, and she leaves the cargo bay, and Mal's sure she's headed for the bridge to see Wash.

"Well, River, what would you like me to show you?" Mal asks, turning back to her, and he's surprised to find tears in her eyes. "River? You okay?"

"I'm fine. I was wondering if you could do me a favor, Captain Reynolds." There's no shake in her voice, but Mal can tell from the tone that this favor is more than a little important to her.

"Could be. What do you need?"

River kneels down gracefully and reaches into her boot next to ankle and pulls out a handkerchief. She hands it over to him. Embroidered on a corner are the initials RT in flowery script, two hearts used in place of periods.

"RT?"

"River Tam," she explains. "My brother is on Osiris, and you're going there. His name is Simon Tam- He's a surgeon there."

"You want me to take this to him, love?"

She nods. "If you could." Her eyes are still filled with tears as she says, "He hasn't heard from me in three years. I know he's worried about me." River takes a moment to gather herself. "He won't be hard to find. He works in the trauma center there, and I know you don't want to go to the hospital, but I'm sure Simon doesn't live far from work. You can follow him home."

"How'm I supposed to do that not knowing what he looks like?" Mal's voice is kind, and he figures she has answer ready.

"Open the handkerchief," she says, and when he does, he finds a piece of paper. He unfolds it, and a man stares up at him from it.

"That's Simon," she tells him. "His hair may have changed, but it's unlikely. Simon likes things that are familiar."

"You drew this?"

"I did," she says simply, but doesn't linger on the topic. "Will you do it?"

"I will," he tells her. "Won't be too much trouble, I reckon."

River breathes a sigh of relief, and Mal knows she was worried he'd say no. This is obviously very important to her. He has half a mind to ask why she's never contacted her brother in all these years, if she knows he's worried, but he knows better than to do so.

"Thank you," she says adamantly.

"You're welcome," he replies and reaches out to touch her face. She steps forward and presses a gentle kiss to his lips.

"You're a good man."

"Well, I'm alright." He grins at her, and it makes her giggle, and Mal likes that he's able to do so. Suddenly, she frowns, her eyes looking past him and when he turns, he sees Inara on the catwalk, looking down at the two of them with a less than friendly face.

"Wish you wouldn't leave me, sailor," River whispers, eyes never leaving Inara, the words so quiet he can barely make them out.

Mal looks back at her, a little surprised and also a little pleased at her statement. "I'll take that as a compliment, River."

"Was meant as one." A tear slides down her cheek, and Mal brushes it away without thinking. River says, "Don't forget me now. Some other woman makes whose company you enjoy, think of me, won't you?"

He frowns a bit, doesn't know how to respond, and he never gets the chance. River glances at Inara one last time, and then, she kisses him again, lingers against him, and he puts his hand possessively on the small of her back. Damned if he doesn't want to take her along with him, but he doesn't have the courage to ask.

'Don't you leave me Jolly Sailor' were the words she did cry
Waving and weeping and wiping her eyes
When you reach home in your own Newfoundland
Think of the young Spaniard who kept squeezing your hand

River pulls away, and tells him, "When you reach Osiris, don't forget your promise."

"I won't."

"I know. Just wanted to hear you say it." River lets out a sigh. "Still wish you wouldn't leave."

"River…" Mal trails off, unsure of himself.

She puts a finger on his lips, and smiles a sweet smile that makes his eyes soften. "Don't ask, Mal," she tells him. "Better this way. Just think of the dancer who kept squeezing your hand."

"You know I will, darlin'."

Her eyes dance at that comment, and she seems happy with his words.

"Until next time, Captain Reynolds."

Mal gives a single nod. "Miss Tam."

River turns, and without a backward glance, walks down the ramp, passing Jayne, who's carrying a bag in one hand. He follows River with his eyes, and Mal feels something possessive rise in his chest that he squashes down.

"Who's the broad?" asks Jayne, and when he sees how Mal is looking after her, he grins. "Ah. How's she tumble?"

Mal rolls his eyes. "Get to work, Jayne," he says, and before the mercenary can respond, Mal heads up the stairs and meets Inara in the middle of the catwalk. He stops, because the look on her face begs conversation.

"Somethin' I can do for you?" Mal asks the companion.

"Who was that?" Inara counters with a question of her.

"Friend of mine."

"You don't have friends."

"Now, you see, that's just uncharitable. I have a lot of friends."

"Of course you do." Inara lifts an eyebrow, and Mal tries not to be affected by the cleavage her dress shows. Then, River's words come back to him, and he tears his glance from Inara's chest to her face.

"That all you wanted, then? To tell me I'm not a man who inspires friendship?" He shrugs. "You've said your piece, and I'll be on my way."

"Mal, I-"

"Yes?"

Inara hesitates and lets out a sigh. "How long are we going to be on Osiris?"

"Maybe half a day. We should be there in a week's time. Think half a day will be long enough for you to get your whorin' done?"

Inara narrows her eyes. "Yes, I'm sure it will be."

"Glad to hear it. Now, if you'll excuse me, I've got captain-y things to do."

He brushes past her, catches the scent of her perfume, and thinks how good she always smells. In his hand, he has River's handkerchief and when he lifts it closer to look at the stitching, he smells River's sweat and the leather from her boot. It stays with him when they break atmo, at dinner, and when he lays down his bunk that night to sleep.

I'll bid you farewell love on a fine summer's breeze
But love don't forget me when you're crossing the sea
And when you are married and enjoying your bride
Think on the young maiden who lay by your side

After her time on stage, River asks the owner if she can go home. She's surprised, for sure, as River usually stays to help out the bar or talk to the customers and gain some extra tips doing private dances in one of the backrooms, but gives her consent. River makes the trip back to her time in less time than it took the night before, grabs the doll of her trunk, and lays down in the bed that still smells like Mal.

She hadn't wanted to say good-bye this morning. She had wanted to keep him in her bed, in her arms, and let him turn her raw with his body. Since coming to New Melbourne, she feels lonely at night a lot, and Mal made her feel the least lonely out of all the lovers she'd had in the time she's been here.

Mal was gentle company for her. His thoughts were focused in a way most people's weren't. They were solid and comforting to her. River usually works hard to keep her abilities squashed, but Mal's voice was loud in her mind, a solid presence that comforted her. Everything he did, he did with all of him, his mind not drifting one bit. When he made love to her, he thought only of her, completely focused on what was happening, which only served to arouse her further. Being with Mal was unlike any being with any of her other partners.

Of course, she read other things from him before and after that- Not because of his thoughts, but because she wanted to know more. In the bar, she'd seen his brown coat and what it meant to him, because she sensed his feeling of wounded pride when he tugged on one worn sleeve. When he sipped his whiskey, she felt how much he enjoyed the burn, and heard his thoughts about his ship, Serenity, and the whiskey he had hidden in his bunk, and she recognized the affection he had for his ship. His ship- a cold, metal thing that he loves as though it were a person. But, the word, Serenity it brought other images just below the surface of his mind that he kept away easily enough. Images of pain and death and suffering, and he still managed affection and tenderness for people and things alike. She had wanted him when she heard his voice in her mind, when she felt his eyes on her red dress, and so she had spoken to him. River had to, she felt- If he could love a ship and the way it spoke to him with clanks and hums, maybe he could like a woman who spoke a little strangely sometimes.

Not as strange as she once had, of course, and she praises herself for this as she stares out her open window at the night sky.

She had known before they got to the ship, of course, that he was on his way to Osiris. His mind was focused on their walk, even as he walked hand in hand with her, making soft comments, he was thinking about the cargo and the customer on the planet. When she heard Osiris in her mind, she nearly stopped breathing, and all the other feelings and thoughts around her left her mind.

Simon.

Now, in her bed, she pulls her doll closer to her chest. It's been so long since she spoke to Simon, but she keeps watch over him from the Cortex. He's a prestigious doctor on Osiris at the trauma center, and River knows if he wanted to, he could have a private practice. She also knows he won't leave the hospital- He loves it there, she knows this for sure. She also knows he's worried about her, not because of anything she's read, but because she knows her brother and knows how he thinks.

Five years ago, she had left for a government sponsored school, called only the Academy. It didn't take long for her to learn that it wasn't a school, it was hell. There were experiments and painful hours of training until she felt she was going to die there. She begged to be allowed to speak to Simon, and they said no, but she could write him a letter. She did and then she ripped it up, wrote another one that didn't have an intricate code in it. Simon would have come for her, and she knows this, she knew it then, and somewhere in the snarl of her thoughts and other people's and the training that had taken over her mind, she decided she didn't want to make him responsible for her.

It took eighteen months of planning, but she finally escaped, and she hated herself for not being able to take all the others with her, but she knows they understand. The planning kept her sane, and because she had something to concentrate on, she was better off than the other children there with her. Once she left the Academy though…

River closes her eyes, then, tries to block out the memories, even though she knows it's useless.

She had hidden in the first ship she had found, and then gotten off as soon as it landed on Persephone. River looked at the destinations carefully, and when she saw New Melbourne, she knew it would be the perfect place to hide. She also knew she couldn't possibly hope to hide on the ship, so she did what she had to do. River listened to the thoughts of the young, arrogant captain and knew when her body caught his eye. She sidled up to him, listened to his thoughts, and discovered what to say to him and later, what to do to him. He liked that he was the first; it added to his swagger, but not in a mean way. She spent a couple of weeks in his bunk, paying her passage to New Melbourne, and when the ship touched down, he gave her ten platinum and she took it, trying not to feel like a prostitute.

Once she left the ship and was dirt-side, her calm left her. There was no plan, no immediate answer for her survival. With nothing left to focus her attention on, she lost herself. She slept in an alley, the next night a park, and tried to sort through the mess in her brain, build from the ruins the hands of blue had left in her mind. She couldn't seem to do it without something else to occupy her mind as completely as her plan for escape had. The next two weeks, she went in and out from moments of clarity, to moments when her mind was not her own.

Finally, a kind older man took pity on her. She sensed his pure intentions, and she clung to his hand as he led her down the streets to the fish market. He put a knife in her hand, took up his own and showed her how to gut the fish and what to do with it afterward. She immediately caught on, and he was pleased by how quickly she learned. By the end of the day, she had earned enough to buy herself something small to eat, and her new friend, Kevin, let her stay at his home in his daughter's old bedroom.

"It ain't much," he told her, his tone apologetic. "But, it's everything I got."

"It's everything," she replied, her voice sincere. "Thank you."

She spent months in that little house with Kevin, talking to him about the little girl he had lost six months before and the wife who had left him three months after Cara's death, the pain too much of a stress on their marriage. River worked with him in the fish market, coming home each night smelling like fish. Though she never told him about the hands of blue, River knew he suspected something had been done to her. She knew from his thoughts that he assumed she had been in a slaver ring. She didn't correct his assumption.

One night, he saw her dancing by accident. She was just playing around mostly; she had wanted to make sure she could still remember how to, that the Academy hadn't taken that from her as well. She was getting stronger, mentally and emotionally, and she had learned how to almost completely block out others' feelings and thoughts, unless they were just too loud. Even then, they no longer frightened her. The smell of sea air and fish comforted her, the work made her body stronger and kept her mind occupied, leaving her tired enough at night to sleep. Kevin's easy presence helped her learn to talk to people normally again, and he introduced her to friends. When he saw her dance, he didn't say anything, just inclined his head a small bit, and told her good night. The next morning, he handed her a dress made of a soft material. She looked at him curiously, purposely blocking out his thoughts, pleased that she could do so.

"It belonged to Eliza," he explained. "She weren't much bigger'n you. Put it on- You won't be working at the fish market anymore. You're too pretty for that work."

He had taken her to the bar, introduced her to the owner- His cousin. Kevin gently encouraged River to dance, and when she did, she realized that she would have to dance a little different than she normally did. She combined her formal dance training with the training she had gotten in the arrogant captain's bedroom and the next thing she knew, she had a job that didn't involve gutting fish.

The bar afforded her certain privileges- More money, an apartment of her own after a couple of months, and of course, the chance to give into her lust from time to time. Mostly, dancing again had completely healed her mind. Three years later, River is as normal as she knows she ever will be after everything that has happened.

River shakes a little in her bedroom and purposefully concentrates at the small part of a constellation she can see from her window. Thinking about the past always unsettles her slightly, and she can't help but wonder how Simon will receive her gift when Mal gives it to him.

The thought of Mal makes her smile and ache at the same time. She wishes for him to be here with her, but then remembers the woman on the catwalk who stared at them with such anger in her dark eyes. River gave Malcolm a fond farewell, a summer breeze playing with the strands of her dark hair. She hopes that he won't forget her as he crosses the skies, not just for Simon's sake, but for pure selfish reasons. She knows she won't forget him. He made her feel complete, like a real person, actual and whole.

She only hopes that when he's enjoying the dark-eyed woman, he'll think on the young dancer who laid by his side.

A/N: This one ran away with itself. Hopefully, I'll have part two up shortly. I hope you enjoyed it!