Chapter Three: In which the Frye's are introduced and Simon can't stop River from doing anything.
"Now Captain," Al Frye said very seriously, "You ain't been gettin' my daughter in any trouble, have ya?"
"No trouble I couldn't get her outta again," Mal said.
The older man laughed. He was mostly bald, skinny and weathered; a man who'd lived a very full life at the relatively young age of fifty. He had thin, nimble fingers, tawny sun soaked-skin, and a face that had clearly spent more time smiling then frowning. He was the kind of man who made it extremely difficult for anyone to dislike him. His wife, Nora, matched him perfectly. She was shorter and plumper than her husband, but she had the same sun-worn appearance and crow's feet from too many smiles around her eyes. She had thick gray hair with a few tenacious brown streaks in it, and Kaylee's gorgeous brown eyes.
They, that is to say, Kaylee's entire family, most of her friends, and the crew of Serenity, were walking through the small town of Sweet Well on Newhope. It was a train-stop town of a little over three thousand people half way between the planet's capital city, unimaginatively named Du Cheng, and its largest export, salt from vast valleys of salt mines to the south. Its roots were in a large farming community, although there was a small copper mine that was getting bigger. Still, the best thing the town had going for it was the train. It was why Mal had decided to land in Sweet Well in the first place, years and years ago. Whatever Sweet Well didn't have, they could get by train, but the Alliance big wigs in Du Cheng didn't care to bother with such an out-of-the-way city. If you had to be planet bound, Mal thought so long ago, this was about the best place to do so, and he walked rather conspicuously down the street, followed by a large chunk of the community, he realized he still felt that way.
"And she's been good, I take it?" Nora asked, drawing Mal out of his musings.
"'Course I been good," Kaylee said, rolling her eyes lovingly at her mother.
"Better'n gold," Mal assured the matron. "Little Kaylee's never let me down."
"And these jobs you do," Nora said, "They ain't too dangerous?"
"Not overly," Mal said. "Course, most work pay anything's got a little danger in it."
"Don't have ta fret over me, ma," Kaylee said, slipping her arm around her mother's and giving it an affectionate squeeze. "Cap takes good care of us. He always will."
"If I doubted that I wouldn't of let ya go off," Al grunted. "It's a dangerous world, gotta take care of your own. Gotta watch who ya trust."
"Don't I know it," Mal replied. "But if I can say so, I think Serenity's got herself a mighty fine crew of reasonably trustworthy folk."
"Reasonably trustworthy?" Nora asked.
"Cap's just bein' modest," Kaylee said. "Serenity's got the best crew of any ship flyin'."
"I wouldn't know that, sweetie," Nora said with a motherly sing-songy tone in her voice as she turned her head to look at the crew of Serenity, who were following closely as they wondered from the empty field claiming to be a docking port to the Frye's home on the other side of town. "Ya ain't introduced your crew ta us yet. I see new faces since ya last shipped off."
"Right," Kaylee clipped. "Well, ya know Cap'n Reynolds, an' Wash and Zoë."
"So I do," Nora said.
"And this here's Inara, case you couldn't figure it out . . ."
"I could figure them all out, Kaywinith, I just wanna be introduced proper."
"Right," Kaylee said, "Ma, this is Inara, Nara, this is my ma."
"Pleased to meet you, Mrs. Frye," Inara said politely, although she had to yell a little to be heard over the din of the conversations around her.
"You too dearie," Nora said, "I've heard so many wonderful things."
"An this is Shepherd Book."
"Ma'am."
"Very pleased ta meet ya, Shepherd," Nora said. "Been longin' to ever since Kaylee first described ya."
"An' Jayne," Kaylee continued.
"Ma'am," Jayne said, tipping his hat to her.
"He's politer than ya made him sound, sweetie,"
"I clean up good," the large man said, smiling sweetly at Kaylee's mother, who didn't see her daughter roll her eyes.
"And this," Kaylee said, forcing her mother away from the 'charming' Jayne, "Is Simon and River."
"It's very nice to meet you Ma'am," Simon said politely.
"The children have a game," River said. "The take the flowers and sing 'mama had a baby and his head popped off.' But that didn't happen, he caught fever and died."
There was a very heavy minute of silence.
"Ah," Simon finally said, "I'm very sorry about, ah . . . River."
"You were dead-on right about them, Kaylee, dear," Mrs. Fray said, turning to her daughter. "I see 'xactly what cha meant."
This answer, however, didn't seem to relax Simon at all. Mrs. Frye, thankfully, noticed the young doctor's extreme unease and laughed good-naturedly. "Don't fret over your sister. This family's got odder then her in it. Least she smiles."
* * *
"Hey, Doc, I gotta know, can Zoë dance?" Wash said, running up to Simon.
The young doctor was standing on the very edge of the large gathering and had been somewhat hard to find. There were easily over a hundred and fifty people at Kaylee's welcome home party. There was more food, more real food, than Serenity's crew had seen in months. Fresh hodgeberries, blueberries, raspberries, apples, pears, and even large, plump strawberries, Kaylee's favorite. There was meat too, real meat: a roasted pig, ground beef meatballs in thick sweet gravy, and barbecued chickens. There were also all sorts of cakes, pound cake, fruitcake, yellow cake, and pies: pecan pie, apple pie, pumpkin pie, rhubarb pie. It was a feast to rival the swankiest of parties. Simon had to admit, held under Newhope's cool early autumn sky, lit by torches and a large bonfire, it was the best party he'd ever been to. Even if he was very carefully avoiding every other guest and consistently preoccupied with the worry that an accident would lead to someone's horrific death by third degree burns.
"I don't know," Simon said innocently. "She's your wife."
Wash, who was clearly enjoying the large keg of very hard cider, laughed loudly and slapped Simon on the back. "It won't hurt the baby, I mean, will it?"
"Not unless you trip and fall on her because you're too drunk to dance," Simon said, pulling away from the intoxicated pilot. "Where is Zoë, she's not drinking, is she?"
"No," Wash said, trying to pull himself up and appear passingly sober. "She said I could drink for the both of us."
"Well, you've been doing a good job," Simon said. "You should probably go to bed."
"Nah," Wash said. "I'm just fine."
"Well, at least try to drink something non-alcoholic, re-hydrate yourself. And stay away from the torches."
"Got cha," Wash said. "Yes to water, no to fire. May I part with your blessing?"
"If you feel you must have them," Simon said.
Wash however, did not seem inclined to depart.
"So, why are ya back here, all alone?"
"I'm not alone," Simon said, "I have River." He nodded to the ground where River was sitting. She was braiding together the summer's last dandelions, all of them she could find. The chain looked, to Wash, like it could have stretched from the Serenity's cockpit to the engine room, down the stairs and back out the hatch without much trouble. But then, he was very drunk.
"She ain't much for company."
"Presently, neither are you," Simon pointed out.
Wash laughed "Yeah," he said, pointing at the doctor affectionately. "Good point. I should maybe find Zoë."
"Maybe."
"I think we're gonna dance."
"Oh?" Simon said, as if this were news to him.
"Hey," Wash said, apparently forgetting, again, that he meant to be going back to Zoë. "Din'you say River used ta dance?"
"Well," Simon said glancing down at his sister. He knew that she was very aware of this conversation; he assumed that she was always very aware of everything, although he also assumed that she never really understood what was happening around her. "I'm sure if she wanted to . . ."
She glanced up at him so suddenly that it startled the perfectly sober Doctor. Wash, however, was either too drunk to be startled or too drunk to show it. "I'm done, let's dance."
"I thought you didn't want to be in the middle of all the people," Simon said.
"You didn't want to be in the middle of all the people," River said, standing up and wiping the dandelion sap off of her hands onto her dress. "I didn't want you to be alone."
"Great!" Wash said, too loudly, grabbing Simon's arm. "Let's go!"
The drunken pilot dragged the doctor into the center of the party, a large area set-aside for dancing; River followed, laughing out loud the entire way. Simon was tempted to ask River why she was laughing, but he had a feeling she would confess that she was laughing at him, and if that was the case he'd really rather not have known. The crowd had thinned somewhat. All the children were in bed, as were those who needed to wake up early without a hang-over. By this time, those remaining had eaten all they wanted to and were content with drinking. A group of Kaylee's cousins had gathered together a few guitars, a flute, a fiddle and a drum and were making music for a very lively jig. "Hey Mal!" Wash yelled into the crowd, pulling Simon over to where most of Serenity's crew was standing, very near the cider. "Look what I found!"
"Ah, Doctor," Mal said, with drunken good humor. "Wonder'd where you'd gone off ta."
"Nowhere special," Simon said. "Just around."
"He was with River," Wash explained. "She was making a dandelion rope."
"Well," Mal said, beaming at the young girl, who beamed back. "Ain't that nice. See, Jayne, told ya she weren't useless." Mal said over his shoulder. Jayne, however, wasn't there. "Hey Zoë," Mal said to the person who was there. "Where's Jayne?"
"He left, sir," Zoë said with sober tact. "If you'll remember. With that blond girl."
"Oh," Mal said, nodding. "Right, yeah, she, she was pretty."
"Not as pretty as my wife," Wash said giddily, walking up to Zoë and taking her hands. Simon was surprised to see that the firstmate was more amused by her husband's behavior than annoyed, but then, he'd decided long ago that it was better for to just accept Wash and Zoë, and not try to understand them. "Come on, sweetie, Doc said its ok ta dance."
"I told you he would," Zoë said, rolling her eyes and laughing. "I'm not an invalid. I'm just pregnant!"
"Don't that just warm yer heart?" Mal said, loud enough to block out whatever Wash said as he swept his wife onto the floor.
"What?" Simon asked. "Wash and Zoë?"
"Yeah," Mal drawled, his voice a little dreamy. "Was a time when I wanted a wife, a son, a bunch of daughters who'd call me papa and wear frilly pink dresses."
"Really?" Simon asked to be polite. He'd just realized that he wasn't sure where River'd gone.
"I don't know why I always thought I'd have a lotta daughters," Mal continued as Simon scanned the crowd around him. "I guess it's 'cause girls is so sweet, ya know? A boy, he causes all manner of trouble, gettin' in scrapes. But daughter's they, they just love."
"I'm sure," Simon said, taking a step back. Maybe it was just the pale light and shifting shadows of the torches, but River wasn't anywhere to be found. "Captain, sir, I need to . . ."
"Ya know, I always wanted a baby sister, as a little kid," Mal mused, clearly oblivious to Simon's behavior. "I think I just like ta take care of things."
"I need to find River," Simon said, because no matter how drunk the Captain was, he didn't want to leave so rudely without offering an explanation.
If Mal noticed, it didn't deter from his self disclosure. "It's why I like the ship so much, I think. She's like a daughter, gotta take care a her, giver her the right fuel, make sure she gets tuned up and all, but without the work a havin' a family . . ."
* * *
"River?" Simon called loudly, to be heard over the din of drunken conversations, lively music, and dancing couples. He'd worked half way around the dance floor and his sister was nowhere to be found. He was near panic.
"Simon!" Kaylee squealed, drawing the doctor's attention. She was surrounded by handsome young men, and had been for most of the party. She was talking, laughing, pushing her hair behind her ears only to have it tumble out again. Her cheeks were just a little flushed from the alcohol but her eye's were bright and keen. For a moment, his building concerns for his sister were almost driven from his mind. Kaylee looked about as beautiful as Simon had ever seen her, and he could tell by the gleam in all the other young men's eyes that he wasn't alone in his observations.
This was, more than Simon would ever admit, the reason he'd avoided the party. He didn't want to compete for Kaylee, he couldn't, not against these men, who knew her so well, who spoke her language, who understood her, who weren't being hunted by the Alliance, who's mere acquaintance couldn't get her killed.
"Hey," The girl said, coming up to him, smiling beautifully, sparkling.
"Hey," Simon said back. He suddenly felt very hot and very thirsty.
"Wanna dance?" She asked.
Simon blinked and forced himself to think, "I can't, you see . . ."
"Don't have ta dance well," Kaylee said, clearly not understanding his objections. "Just have ta try."
"No, River . . ."
"Got an answer for that," Kaylee said, slipping away from him for a second, leaving him cold but still thirsty.
"Kaylee," he said, taking a step to follow her but no more. "You don't under-- . . ."
He was interrupted by a large wooden mug full of cider being shoved into his hands. "Drink this," River suggested. "You're thirsty."
"River," he said, almost overcome with relief. He reached out and touched her smiling face, displaying all the faith of St. Thomas. "Where were you?"
"Getting drinks, silly," the girl said, as if she'd told him and he'd forgotten, before taking a deep swig out of her own mug.
Simon looked at the amber liquid, then to his sister. "Have you had any of this?" he demanded foolishly.
She smiled at him and nodded, "It's good," and took another sip.
"River, you shouldn't be drinking this, you're too young."
"I've seen time stream by," River said in her eerily serious and slightly insane way, her voice lax and her eyes unfocused. "Flow like a river past me. I've been baptized in time, sunk under until something died, come up gasping for breath. New life out of time." She blinked and came back to herself. "I think I'm old enough for alcohol," she said candidly.
Simon struggled to comprehend what River meant for a moment before realizing that such endeavors were never worth the effort he put into them. "Who gave this to you?" He asked, believing that he'd be able to confront the inattentive barkeep and have his sister cut off.
"Captain Reynolds," River said in a wonderfully snobbish way, the way she talked as a child whenever she'd convinced there parents to take her side in an argument, which was most times.
"You're kidding," Simon said dryly.
"Drink up, Simon," River said, taking her own advice. "Don't want to be too cold."
"Now, River, you know that alcohol doesn't actually keep you warm. It draws blood away from your extremities which can lead to serious health issues," Simon lectured as he scanned the crowd, catching Mal's eyes so he could send a very disapproving scowl. The captain didn't seem to notice the glower; however, he raised his own wooden mug jovially, letting the sweet amber liquid slosh over its lip and onto his hand. He seemed surprised, when that happened, and took down his mug, gazing at his hand, trying to figure out just why it was wet, or perhaps just why he had less cider in his mug than he'd had a minute ago. Simon sighed and turned back to River. "No more, mei mei, you understand?"
"You're not my father," the girl said, wrapping her hands around the wooden vessel and pulling it close to her chest. Simon understood that, if he wanted her to stop drinking, he'd have to pry the cider from her cold, dead hands.
"I just want you to be safe," he said. "And alcohol . . ."
"Doesn't react with any of my medications," the girl said solidly.
"I don't know that, we'd have to check the . . ."
"It doesn't," River insisted. "You think I'll get drunk and that someone will rape me."
Truthfully, Simon hadn't been brave enough to think that. Almost instinctively, he took a deep drink of his own cider, trying to wash the notion away.
"It won't happen," River said. "I'm too smart."
"River, it's not about being smart," Simon said, lowering his glass. "It's just, when you drink sometimes . . ."
"Hey," Kaylee's voice said, cutting through the doctor's lecturing. She looked just as distractingly beautiful as she had before, all soft and radiant in the firelight. Behind her was a younger man, about River's age. He was somewhat boxy and short, not more than an inch taller than River, with a bright face, not unlike Kaylee's, and deep brown eyes. His round face was a little flushed, from nervousness, excitement, or too much cider, Simon wasn't quite sure. "Just the people I was lookin' for."
Simon, too polite and reserved to lecture River in front of a stranger, especially a stranger her own age, tried very hard to greet the newcomers cordially. "Hello, Kaylee, I hadn't realized you were looking for us."
"Simon, River," Kaylee said, "This here's my cousin, Jackobeam."
"Ah, Hello," Simon said, reaching out to shake the boy's hand. It was clear what Kaylee was doing, Simon just wished he had an idea how to stop it.
"Very nice to meet you, Dr. Tam," the boy said respectively. "And you can just call me Jack."
"Right," Simon said, forcing himself to smile politely. "Jack."
"Jack here was wondrin' if River'd like ta dance," Kaylee said, somewhat pointedly.
"Well," Simon said, "She's . . ."
"Yes," the girl said, glancing mischievously at her brother as she grabbed Jack's arm and, after shoving her drink onto her brother, pulled him onto the floor.
"Kaylee," Simon said, turning away from the intoxicatingly pretty girl so he could place his sister's disregarded drink on a near by table. "I wish you would have asked me first."
"Wow," Kaylee said, totally ignoring his comments. "She's amazing."
Simon followed her gaze and saw his sister and Jack, dancing the reel with a grace and passion and abandon that was unrivalled on the makeshift dance floor. Simon wondered if it could be rivaled anywhere. The crowd, drunk as they were, was starting to notice the young couple, well, River really, dancing as beautifully and as naturally as a bird flies or a star twinkles.
"It's so good," Simon said, forgetting that he was upset, "To see her dance, like this. She never, I mean, she was classically trained but, but I always kind of thought that this, folk dancing, was what she really loved. She would," he laughed softly at the memories, "She'd grab me when mom and dad were away, at a dinner party or something, and beg me to partner with her because she wanted to try a new jig or something she'd seen on the Cortex but her instructor wouldn't teach her."
"So you can do these kinda dances then?" Kaylee asked, looking up at Simon expectantly.
"I know how," Simon answered, not really getting the gist of her question. "But she'd always get frustrated with me as a partner. I wasn't coordinated enough and, frankly, didn't really care. Jack, however, seems to be doing very well."
"Well," Kaylee said, rather loudly, as she pulled on his arm, almost physically dragging his attention away from his sister. "I promise not ta get frustrated with you as a partner."
Simon looked at her and blinked, "Oh," he said, realizing what was obvious. "You want to dance."
"Yeah," Kaylee nodded.
"Ah," Simon stuttered, before taking another, deep, swig of his cider. "Right."
He took a deep breath and set the wooden mug down on the table next to River's and wiped his sweaty palms on his pant legs. Then, extending his hand to her very politely, and bowing just a little, said, "Would you do me the honor, ma'am, of a dance?"
Kaylee smiled and any embarrassment or uneasiness Simon felt got lost in her eyes, "I'd love ta," she said.
On the other side of the dance floor, a very drunken Mal Reynolds had found a bosom friend in Kaylee's Uncle Hubert, who had eight daughters and one son. Both had been caught up when Hubert's son and Mal's youngest crewmember started dancing.
"Didn't know the boy could move like that," Uncle Hubert said. "He's agile and he's quick, but gai si[i] that girl makes him look good."
"She do," Mal said, a little proudly. "She's one of mine. Took her in off the street, so ta speak."
"You're a good man Cap'n Reynolds," Uncle Hubert said, slapping Mal on the back. The captain didn't notice.
"Well now, look at that," he said, pointing to Simon and Kaylee, who'd just started to dance. They didn't dance half or even a quarter as well as Jack and River, but as both of them chuckled at their general gracelessness they were, unquestionably, enjoying the dance and that had its own kind of appeal. "Don't that just warm yer heart?"
To Be Continued . . .