"River, Author" Chapter 4

By Abby

Rating: PG

Notes: I'm so sorry, you guys! I hate it when other people take forever to update and here I am, the hypocrite! I had a bunch of RL stuff to do and in the midst of that, I also discovered Pirates Online guilty grin Anyways, I hope you enjoy this next chapter!

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The floor was sideways. At least, that's what it appeared like to him. If he hadn't known for a fact that he had too much to drink, he would of sworn someone had turned off the artificial gravity. He grabbed the side railing and stood still for a moment to allow for things to stop moving on him, then descended the ramp down to the cargo bay.

It wasn't everyday Malcolm was like this, a brooding, drunken, mess of a man. It was only on the days when the 'verse closed in on him and reminded him of the nothingness that he was.

He was acutely reminded of this uncomforting fact that morning; a message was sent to him from one of the border worlds to regrettably inform him that two former browncoats, friends of his, had just been killed. Lieutenants Wilder and Chen. An accident involving an attempted heist and over-eager Alliance officers. It seemed anymore that someone he knew was off dying. Survived the war but unable to survive life after. If the circumstances had been different, it could have been his crew that attempted that heist and ended up dead. Damn it all.

He hadn't meant life to end up this way. There was a time when he was looking forward to settling down on Shadow with a wife and cattle to raise or somesuch. There was a time when he had a sense of right and wrong, justice and mercy. Those senses were still there, struggling the break the surface of his conscience, but they were conquered everyday as he fought to keep alive those who meant the most to him. His sense of survival out-weighed them all.

He had pulled out his stash of Ng Ka Py from underneath his bunk, something he always kept around in case he had a sudden urgency to become drunk. Everyone had gone to sleep, the lights blinked off, and that sense of urgency had called to him. Now he sat on the floor, leaned up against his favorite smuggling hold, wishing to hell that everything would stop moving.

Something graceful quietly floated into his presence, disorienting and in conflict with his perceived turbulence. He could almost feel it with the core of his being, and its constancy gave way to irritation. He slowly turned his head to see the source of this pressing, and found a pair of dark eyes piercing him. River had descended upon the scene and was now seated on the steps above him, scrutinizing, contemplating. Her journal was by her side, apparently forgotten when she stumbled upon something far more fascinating.

He dropped his gaze and looked at her bare little feet. "What're you doin' here?"

She blinked, perhaps for the first time in several minutes, and sat back. "You're drunk." She said, her tone telling something of distaste.

Two shakes of his brandy bottle suggested it was empty. "S'pose I am." He replied.

"Impaired faculties," she observed, looking down the length of him, ideas and concepts zooming through the back of her mind, obvious in her faraway look. "Drunk with the wine of God's wrath."

He squinted, containing neither the faculties nor the patience to try to understand what she meant. "What?"

She played with her fingers, hesitated. "The effect of such walking in the imagination of one's own heart would be to destroy one and all." Her tone implied that to her own head, nothing needed to be explained further.

And then there was silence. Malcolm went back to staring at the floor, trying to lose himself in his stupor and forget what was just said. River continued to train her eyes on him intently. It had occurred to him that she was attempting to glean his thoughts, figure him out, and normally this would have disturbed him, but at that moment he was too morose and inebriated to care.

Out of the corner of his eye the bleary, glowing shape that was River started to slowly descend. Her feet connected with the cargo bay floor, soundless, ghostlike, and made the few steps to where he was seated. Before he could blink she was seated beside him. Then, almost hesitantly, she laid her head on his shoulder, raven hair cascading down the side of his arm. At first his initial reaction was to tense up, but when the comforting feeling of her body heat seeped through his jacket, he relaxed, taking some pleasure in suddenly having company in misery. "You're warm," he said.

She glanced at him. "Where you are, it's cold."

Something inside him tugged a bit, appreciation that someone understood. He was dead certain that River did, out of anyone that had ever suffered. It seemed rather ironic that she would actually reach out and make sense of him, when she was the one who needed more help than any of them could truly offer. Speaking of…

"Tzao-gao, alb'tross…" he exclaimed, a little louder than he intended. She jolted from the sound of it echoing through the metal walls. "Here you're trying to console me 'n get in m'head when all this time I've been fixin' to get into yours." He hiccupped and swung his free hand up to point at the offending blue journal still lying on the grate of the stairs. "That gorram thing has been drivin' me up the wall, 'n you're bein' an awful tease." He grunted as he made to push himself up off the wall. "I'm gonna look at that journal, don' you stop me…" He wobbled as he hovered a couple inches off the ground. Looking over to gauge her reaction, River showed no sign of alarm, only calm. Not deterred, he kept pushing himself up, the effort starting to make him pant. "Jus'n you wait…I'll read all your craz…" Legs not wanting to cooperate, he gave up and slid back down the wall.

He sat for a few seconds and caught his breath, noticing that she hadn't moved the entire time nor seemed surprised that he was once again on the floor. "You knew that was gonna happen." He accused.

She looked up at her bound thoughts sitting on the step. "Poor balance and compromised physical capability." She turned back to him, and smiled lightly. "My journal was safe."

He couldn't help but return her smile with a lopsided version of his own. He wrapped his arm around her pulled her to his side. "You cheeky little piao liang pìgu."

They sat without saying another word. An hour passed, and when Malcolm was able to get on his feet again, River stood up as well. She smiled once again, watched to make sure he wasn't going to fall over, then quickly snatched up the journal and ascended the stairs, skirt floating behind her.

The feelings of angst that had spurred his binge seemed far away to Malcolm as he watched her disappear around a corner. According to his calculations, there was a slim chance that he would ever get a chance to see what it was that was in her head and on those pages of her book anytime soon. In the meantime, he felt lucky enough to be invited into her peculiar world. He sighed and climbed the stairs, seeking a soft bed and deep sleep.