Carving Out a Future

By: Dreamfall

Summary: Her crew doesn't know that Serenity's new passenger, a carpenter with an 'unusual upbringing', is a relic from the past. And Xander's not looking for trouble. Then again, neither are they. Not usually, leastwise. It just tends to come calling anyway. Gen. Canon couples mentioned, but definitely not the focus of the story.

Written for: NaNoWriMo and TTH100: Xander/Firefly

TTH100 prompt: 095-Cold

Rating: FR13/PG13/T

Disclaimer: I own neither Firefly nor BtVS.

Spoilers: Takes place post Season 7 for Buffy, and post-Objects in Space (and post the comic books, for that matter), but pre-Serenity for Firefly.

Author's Note: This is the story I started in November for NaNoWriMo. I'm thirty or so chapters into it, but since there's going to be at least one hundred chapters (since it's for tth100, too), they're mostly pretty short. If you're coming from this from my HP fanfics-- it's very different. Way less dark. It's also an incredibly fun story to write, and I do intend to continue with it to its conclusion. And no, it's not taking any real time away from Cat, now that I'm not working obsessively on it, like I was in November. I'll be posting every couple/few days at least till I'm caught up with my livejournal (username dreamfall(underscore)nnwm). Hope you enjoy!

Review Response: Responses to any reviews will be posted in the same livejournal as my other review responses-- username dreamfall(underscore)ff.


Chapter Nine
A Rude Awakening

He was cold. So cold. He ached all over, muscles cramped from staying perfectly still for so long, but he was so cold that if he moved he was certain that he'd shatter. If he unclenched his hand, his fingers would surely break off. If he shivered he'd vibrate apart like a jack hammer made of ice. If he drew in a breath, his lungs would break into a billion pieces. So achingly cold.

He didn't know how long he'd been like this, but it felt like eternity, felt like an instant, felt like -- he didn't know. Even his thoughts were slow and sluggish as though his synapses were frozen to slush and communicating with each other only unwillingly. He wanted to breathe, wanted desperately to take in a breath, but the knowledge of what it would do to him was too horrible.

Then, unexpectedly, there was a slight hint of warmth in his mouth, moving down his throat, into his lungs, and he felt them relax very slightly. Again, and he dared to inhale a single tiny breath. Another wisp of warmth, and he breathed a little more deeply, sucking air into his lungs and letting the warmth spread throughout him, feeling himself slowly thaw out.

A loudly cleared throat made his eyes snap open, and he found his view mostly dark, but Captain Reynolds, standing at the bottom of the ladder to his room, was bathed in dim light, glaring at him. He drew back his gaze to figure out what was blocking everything else, and found his view dominated by River, who was crouched over him, lips on his, eyes locked on his face in fascination as she blew warm air into his lungs.

Startled, he jerked back, away from River, nearly falling off the bed. "Jesus Christ! I didn't -- I'm not-- I wouldn't--"

"River Tam," the captain said sharply, interrupting his half-asleep protestations of innocence. "What in tah mah duh guay do you think you're doin'? What have I told you 'bout women crawl into men's beds without so much as a may-I?"

"They're probably wearing poison lipstick," she sing-songed.

"Yeah, well, beyond that! You ain't s'posed to be troublin' the passengers -- not even the non-payin' ones. Like t'give him a heart attack creepin' in and kissin' a man like that!"

The girl gave her captain a look of irritation. "I didn't kiss him!"

"River," he said in a tone of exaggerated patience. "I saw you. Your gorram lips were locked on him."

"I wasn't kissing him," she repeated, speaking slowly as though talking to a particularly slow child. "He was cold. Too cold to breathe, or his lungs could've shattered like a million little icicles in a wind storm. So I blew in some warmth to warm him up."

The captain looked doubtful. "Oh, and is that the way of it? The gorram ship's climate controlled, River! He ain't cold!"

"It was a dream," Xander interjected softly.

The captain's sharp gaze turned on him, eyes narrowing slightly. "Oh and it was, was it? For it to be like River says, it'd have to be one helluva detailed dream."

River paced over to him and kicked him in the shin.

Captain Reynolds howled and leveled another glare at her. "What the gorram hell was that for?"

"You're a yu bun duh shr sagwa! It was a memory," she continued more patiently. "I 'member it, too. Four days froze, then waking too fast, too cold, nothin' making any sense. I remember. And his was worse, worse, worse, worse, worse!"

Xander dropped his gaze slightly as the captain's eyes turned back on him. "You been in cryo, huh?"

"Yeah," he said. "Something like that."

"Care to tell me why?"

"I was sick," he stated. "My family couldn't cure me, and I would've died before they could work it out, so they put me on ice to send to people with better facilities." Which was practically the truth. Painfully close to the truth.

The captain stared at him as though trying to see into him. "That why River says it was worse than hers? 'Cuz you were sick?"

"I don't know," he started.

River giggled and shook her head, interrupting. "Cuz he wasn't in a cryo box. And cuz time stopped and didn't start up again, and it went on and on and he got colder and colder and colder as the centuries marched away from the ruins of the world."

The captain sent her an impatient look, while Xander tried to convince himself to keep breathing.

"Cryo ain't safe for that long an' you know it. 'Sides, you ain't makin' no sense -- nobody can be put on ice 'thout a box."

She giggled and grinned at Xander. "You were right."

"About what?"

She just laughed and shook her head.

"C'mon out of there now, River. I'm glad t'hear you weren't molestin' a passenger in th'night, but there's a reason the gorram doors are closed, and it ain't so you have the fun of opening 'em. Let the man sleep!"

She nodded seriously. "Don't dream of monsters," she recommended, and then passed the captain and swung up the ladder with remarkable grace.

"Sorry 'bout that," the captain said, shrugging apologetically. "She don't mean nothin' by it. She's just a bit on the crazy side."

Xander managed a weak smile. "It's okay. Like she said, she was waking me up from a particularly unpleasant dream, so I'm not in any position to be upset about the manner. I'm just glad you didn't think I was taking advantage of her or something."

He snorted. "Ain't a man alive could take advantage of that girl 'less she wanted advantage taken. Not one-on-one, anyway. Sorry for the trouble -- I'll leave you to your peace."

"Thanks," he muttered, watching as the captain climbed back up the ladder, graceful in a way that spoke of years or practice rather than the deft athleticism River had shown. The dim light vanished with the closing of his door, and he slowly relaxed back into the bed. Finally, he fell back asleep, hoping not to fall prey again to any of the old familiar dreams.