Chapter 7: In which several stories are told
"And so," Shepherd Book said, gasping for breath as was most of his audience, between laughs. "We finally got the fish in the boat and by this time, Mr. Frye, Cap'n Reynolds and Zoë were beside themselves with laughter over in the other boat, but we were all soaking wet and, frankly, pretty mad at each other."
The table burst into laughter, with the exception of Jayne, who said, "Still are."
"But the fish," Book said, drawing the audience back from their mad laughter. "It wasn't dead. And none of us had gone fishin' for this, so we weren't aware that it can sometimes take quite a while for a fish ta die if you don't kill it right out."
The table continued in its near hysterics. Kaylee had to wipe tears from her eyes and gasp for breath. Wash laughed so hard he thought he was going to faint. Zoë and Mal kept exchanging glances, snickering about how the story would end. Even Simon, who hadn't enjoyed the events which were being recounted, managed to smile and laugh. Jayne alone didn't see the humor.
"So we just sort of stood there, trying to keep our balance in this boat with this huge fish flopping around and Simon was trying to calculate how long the fish could survive out of water given and oxygen intake and force exerted as it flopped around and I was trying to untangle myself from the fishing line and then Jayne," Book gasped and struggled to compose himself as he pressed on with the story. By now Mal and Al were laughing so hard at the memory that they couldn't possibly be listening and Simon's snickers had turned into actual laughter. Jayne still didn't find the situation at all amusing.
"Jayne," Book said. "Jayne, he . . .he pulled out his revolver and he said, he said, 'I can fix this' and, and he shot the fish's head right off."
The table erupted into his strongest bout of laughter yet, "No," Book insisted, "No, it gets better, the fish was still moving, twitching ya know, so he shoots it again, and then again!"
The table was roaring.
"Damn fish wouldn't die," Jayne muttered in weak defense of himself. Wash, who was sitting next to Jayne and was the only one to hear it, laughed so hard that he sprayed water all over his plate.
"Y'all right there, honey?" Zoë chuckled.
Wash was laughing to hard to answer her; he just waved at her with his napkin and nodded.
"So, Simon reaches over and pulls Jayne's gun down, and the fish, it's pretty dead, still twitchin' and what not, but not floppin' like it was so we all settle down right and get back to the fishing. Well, about a minute later I notice this puddle of water at my feet. We'd been so preoccupied with the fish that we hadn't even realized Jayne'd shot holes in the bottom of the boat! It was sinking!"
The table, once again, burst into uncontrollable laughter. The party was almost calmed down enough for the Shepherd to tell the next part of the story, which involved the three men swimming haphazardly to shore, when a high-pitched, terror-filled, entirely-too-close, scream interrupted him.
"What was that?" Kaylee said, gasping a little as she tried to overcome her laughter.
"Where's River?" Simon asked, scanning the table for the first time since Book had started his long and hilarious retelling of the afternoon's events.
"Your sister?" Hubert asked. "She went off with Jack a bit ago."
"Ma zi song xie sha zi," Simon muttered, pushing himself awkwardly away from the table and running in the direction the scream had come from. He didn't notice that Mal, Kaylee, Book, Hubert and his wife, and a couple other assorted Fryes were following him. They ran back into the edges of the large yard, where there was the beginning of a small forest that dipped into a gully with a peaceful stream. It was a wonderful place for young people who didn't want to be around adults, yet didn't have the confidence to stray to far. There was enough privacy for all manors of mischief but still within earshot of the house.
The group found Jack running up the gully, right at the place where the yard met the trees.
"I didn't do anything!" the boy said, before anyone could ask. "I swear, I just, we just . . . it was innocent."
"What happened," Simon demanded, "Where's River?"
"She ran off, she freaked," Jack said. "I thought she liked me, I mean, I didn't think she'd get so spooked, I'm really, really sorry."
"Son, what did you do?" Mal demanded, pushing his way through the crowd.
"I
kissed her," Jack admitted, quickly adding.
"It wasn't dirty or mean or anything, just a kiss, a peck. I mean, I really thought that . . . she was holding my hand and we weren't
going to . . ."
"Which way'd
she run?" Simon asked, too afraid for his sister to care what set her off.
"North east, long the stream," The boy said, pointing. Simon immediately started to stumble down the hill in the direction Jack had indicated, Book and Mal following.
"Jack," Kaylee said, not unkindly. "Why didn't ya go after her?"
"I didn't wanna scare her more," Jack said. "Honest, I didn't do anythin' bad. And I'm real sorry, I'll apologize and everything."
"What happened?" Zoë asked, as she, Wash, Jayne and most of the rest of Kaylee's family caught up with them.
"I didn't do anything," Jack said imploringly again.
"He tried ta kiss her and River got spooked," Kaylee explained to the rapidly growing crowd. Then turning to her cousin, she said, "Don't worry, River's a very special girl, but she ain't quite right."
"Nuttier than a peanut butter factory," Jayne interjected.
Kaylee glared at him, then turned back to Jack. "I'm sure ya did nothin' wrong. We'll just wait until they come back and maybe you'll be able ta patch it up with River."
Jack nodded, trying to take Kaylee's word for it, but obviously feeling very rotten about the whole thing.
"Well, all right," Nora said loudly, "Ain't nothin' ta be done here. Them men'll bring back River soon enough. Come along."
The crowd started filing back towards the house, Jack and Kaylee lagging behind, trailing at the end of the group.
"I'm really sorry," Jack said, glancing behind him at the shadowy forest. "I didn't mean nothin' wrong, really. I though that's what she . . . I mean, she's just . . ."
"Yeah," Kaylee laughed, throwing her arm around her cousin's shoulders and hugging him affectionately as they walked back towards the house. "They're both like that. It'll be fine."
* * *
"River!" Simon called, running along the side of the gully, trying not to fall into the little stream. "River!"
"River!" Book echoed, "Sweetie, where are you?!"
"Ben dan nu sheng mi huo gaun
yu qin
gai!" Mal spat.
"Where is that rutting sister a yours Doc?"
"I don't know," Simon said. The boy sounded almost sick with worry.
Mal decided not to ask him any more questions, instead he joined the other's in yelling; "River!"
They tromped through the forest for nearly ten minutes before Book saw her. She was about twenty yards away sitting in the middle of the stream, her knees to her chest and her back to them.
"River!" Simon shouted, relief resounding in his voice as he ran lumberingly towards her slight form.
Mal and Book joined the doctor in his charge, but Mal couldn't help but feel that the fact she hadn't even turned to look at them was a bad sign. As soon as he reached his sister Simon fell to his knees in the stream in front of her, but instead of reaching out to comfort her, like he always did, he just stared at her in horrified shock for a moment. When Mal reached them, he saw why.
River's hands were covered with blood, which was streaming out of a series of cuts on her forearms. She was muttering to her self, "Bad girl, bad bad girl. Eve tempted Adam and they were all damned. Damn, damn bad girl goes to hell. You burn and the devil laughs, everyone laughs at the bad, bad girl." And as she muttered she stabbed her arms, drawing blood with every slash of a very sharp gray stone she must have found in the streambed.
"River stop!" Mal yelled, grabbing the girl's wrist and pulling her up while twisting her arm and forcing her to drop the bloody stone. "What the hell you think you're doing?"
"I was bad," River said, gasping from surprise. Tears had started streaming down her cheeks. "Physical affection is inappropriate, superfluous, a waist of potential." She seemed almost in a trance, like she was reciting something she'd been forced to learn, true meaning of her words seemed lost on her.
"What the name of fei gan xing hou do you think you are doing, shen tong?" Mal demanded again, a little more forcefully.
"It has to stop. It can't happen again," River sobbed, "She has to be punished. Punish the bad, bad girl."
"River, no," Simon said, finally finding his voice as he stood up. "You don't have to be punished."
"But I do," She said, looking at her brother sadly over her shoulder, "I do, I do."
"Should we be concerned about her arms?" Book said, interjecting himself rather awkwardly into the tense moment. "Could she bleed . . .?"
"No," Simon said a little sharply, stepping towards his sister and reaching out for her. Mal relinquished his grip warily. The last thing he wanted was for her to slip out of her brother's arms, dive for the rock and start cutting on herself again.
"These wounds are just superficial," Simon said, stroking his sister's arms gently as she stood shaking and sobbing. "It's all right, mei mei," he told her softly, maneuvering so that he could look her in her downcast eyes. "You didn't do anything wrong or bad. We'll go back to Kaylee's house and I'll bandage you up and everything will be all right."
The girl looked at him and laughed softly. "You don't know."
"Then tell me," Simon insisted.
She shook her head, "You don't . . ."
"Tell me," Her brother said forcefully, but not unkindly. "Please, River, tell me."
The girl blinked a few times, and then nodded.
"Seems I pay for each transgression,
Victim of another's scheme,
Every growth becomes recession,
Every cry for joy, a scream.
Longing, look I for a lesson;
Facts are never what they seem,
So I struggle for possession
Of myself, of what I dream.
Lost forever is a something,
Wish I knew just what they took,
What they left is worthless suff'ring
Truth is, I'm afraid to look.
Feel my soul is leaking, less'ningRiver's now a babbling brook."
After a very long, very heavy silence, Simon managed to pull his sister into a protective hug, "Oh, mei mei," he sighed. It was obvious that he was trying very hard not to cry.
"Was that a poem about her?" Mal asked. "Did she write it?"
"Come on," Simon said softly. He'd found his composure and started leading his bloody sister away, back towards Kaylee's family's house.
Book and Mal gave the siblings a good start before following.
"That poor girl," the shepherd said softly. "The road ahead of her is going to be very difficult."
"That may be, preacher," Mal said. "But the truth of the matter is that she's lucky to have a road ahead of her at all."
* * *
"This is very important mission for me, personally," Gov. Comworth told his first lieutenant Christopher McMeal in their unofficial meeting. So unofficial that Comworth felt it was necessary to intrude into the lieutenant's private quarters late at night. "These children mean the world to me and there is every reason for you to be discreet when collecting them."
"Of course, sir."
"He won't want to come," The Governor said, taping on the picture of Simon and River Tam that was lying on the table between them. In this picture River was about fourteen, with her hair done up in curls and her face painted, wearing her best blue satin dress. She was facing the photographer, smiling, beaming, but her eyes were on Simon, to her right. He was standing, staring straight ahead, smiling with a sort of modest pride as he held his diploma showing he'd graduated from medacade with honors.
"Chose your team wisely," Comworth continued, regrouping his thoughts. "If either of them is hurt you'll pay dearly for it, and if this mission leaks out it will be all our skins, is that clear?"
"Of course, sir,"
"Good," the governor said, pushing himself away from the table and standing. "You will leave as soon as you're team is assembled. I expect them here by this time tomorrow night."
"Of course, sir," the lieutenant snapped again, standing out of respect.
"Good," the older man said, nodding and looking once more at the picture on the table. "Good, I know I can depend on you."
"Sir," McMeal asked, tentatively. "My I ask you a question?"
The governor looked up and smiled, which was a good sign. "I make no promises about answering it, but go ahead."
"Who are these children?"
Comworth looked down at the photo again; it was his favorite picture of the children. It was a few years old but he felt it captured who they were. No matter what happened, for better or for worse, Simon would always be the modestly proud brother and River the dreamy eyed adoring sister. "They are siblings, who have found themselves in a very, very difficult position. I am trying to protect them." He finally said.
"I understand that, sir," McMeal insisted. "But who are they, to you, sir? Why do you care so much?"
"The boy, Simon," the Governor said, clearing his throat as he turned away and made ready to leave. "He's my godson."
* * *
"I'm sorry," River said, her voice was hoarse from sobbing and screaming, her eyes were bloodshot and scratchy from crying and she couldn't stop breathing in uneven gasps.
"It's all right," Simon said softly, setting the rag he'd been using to clean her arm back in its bowl of warm water and picking up the tube of anti-bacterial, pain-killing, blood-clotting cream. It smelled like menthol and had always made Simon a little nauseous as a child. As he used the cream so often during his time in the ER it got so that he didn't even smell its sticky-sweet alcohol sent. But for some reason as he squeezed a dollop of the white cream into his hand he felt almost overwhelmingly queasy.
"I won't see Jack again," she offered, hoping some way to make it up to her perfect, long-suffering brother. "I thought he was a quite pool but then we kissed and it was like a waterfall and I got swept over the edge and cut myself on the sharp rocks."
"I know," Simon said, his voice tight.
"I'll never see any boy ever again."
"That's, that's not what I want from you, mei mei," He said, glancing up at her quickly, before turning his focus again to her scarred arms, running his warm hands gently from her elbow to her wrists. "That's not what I want for you, either."
"Tell me what you want," River begged. "I want to obey, I want to be good. I'm so sorry."
"River," Simon said. "You didn't disobey, you weren't bad."
"I was," River insisted. "You're trying to be kind, make me feel better, but you shouldn't. I needed to be punished."
"Give me your other arm," Simon said, his voice strained and just a little trembely. His eyes were focused on the tube as he squeezed out another glob of the white goo. He was blinking furiously.
"Tell me Simon," River said begged. "Your thoughts are drowning you, you can't breath and there's water leaking out of your eyes."
"It's the cream," Simon said, taking her wrist gently and rubbing the cream up and down her other arm. "You know it makes me sick."
River reached up with her free hand and petted her brother's face. "Fear and sorrow make you sick," she said, smiling at him. "The cream's a scapegoat. Hurry, soon you'll be sinking beneath the waves."
"I don't know what to tell you," Simon admitted, turning his full attention to rescrewing the cap onto the tube of cream so that he wouldn't have to look at her arms. "Don't ever cut yourself like that again seems flawed in its simplicity. But I should tell you something, I should, I should have some sort of . . ."
"I hurt you more, didn't I?" River asked softly, her hand dropping.
"More than what?"
"I cut my arms," River said, leaning in closer, whispering. "I cut your heart."
Simon pulled away from her, took a deep breath, and cleared his throat "Your, your arms are. . . ."
"They'll heal," River said, a little angrily. "Punishment, you have to learn something."
Simon closed his eyes, took a deep breath and scraped together his courage. "Mei mei," he said in his kindest, gentlest voice as he reached up and stroked her soft, tear-soaked cheek with his knuckles, "let me decide if you need to be punished from now on, ok?"
"You wouldn't do it," she said, grabbing his hand and pulling it down to her lips. Her dark brown eyes sought out his and Simon's breath caught in his throat. He had to blink to find his voice again.
"Promise me you'll never punish yourself again, River," Simon said very seriously.
"She can't make promises," River said. "They'll make sure she doesn't keep them."
Simon looked at her for a moment, his broken heart clearly visible in his eyes before he eventually nodded, "Right."
River watched as he turned to wipe the excess cream of his hands on the wet cloth, "Right," He muttered again. She'd been scared, when Jack kissed her, and a little guilty, and extremely exhilarated, which, for some reason she'd never understand, made her feel guiltier still. She didn't know why she did what she did, but physical pain seemed the only way to burn off the guilt. Catharsis was the only door she saw open. But now, as Simon was forcing himself not to look at her arms and his usual bafflement spiraled down into broken-heartedness, she wished for all the 'verse that she'd never found the sharp rock.
"I'm sorry," River said again, she knew it was the wrong thing to say but it was all she had. Simon turned to her and forced a smile, "I know you are."
"What should I do?"
Simon took a deep breath and shook his head. "I don't know."
"I thought you knew everything," River said meekly as more large tears started rolling down her cheeks. "I need you to know everything."
"Shhhh," Simon soothed, moving so that he was sitting next to her and could wrap his arms around her slight, trembling frame and talk softly into her ear. "Shhhh, I do know some things. I know that you are a very pretty, very sweet girl who probably liked that a boy was paying attention to her."
River sniffled and nodded.
"And I know that there's nothing wrong with that," Simon said. "In fact, those feelings are about as normal as feelings can be."
River chuckled softly, "Joanne an' I could match."
Simon ignored the seemingly nonsensical comment and kept talking in his soothing, kindly way. "But I also know that you're confused. And that's not your fault. You have to decide whether or not you want Jack's attention, and all those confusing feeling that come with, or not. And you have to deal with the consequences of that decision, one way or another."
River turned to look at her brother, her red-rimmed eyes were, for the moment, dry, "And I have to not cut myself."
"Yeah," Simon chuckled a little sadly, "You have to not cut yourself. You think you can do that?"
River thought for a second and then nodded, forcing a soft smile for her brother.
"Good," Simon said, smiling down at her, "I'm proud of you, mei mei."
"Wo ai ni, xiong zhang," River said, burring her head in her brother's chest.
Simon planted a kiss on the top of her head in the mess of brown hair, "I love you too," he muttered. "Da dai."
* * *
"Gabe, dear," Regan Tam said somewhat spontaneously, shattering the silence as they drove home from a very lively, yet refined, dinner party with Senator Hector Bullox. "I received a surprising wave today."
"Did you?" Gabriel asked, forcing his voice to sound interested.
"Yes, I meant to tell you earlier, it was from Regina Comworth."
"Reginald's daughter, no, granddaughter?"
"That's the one," Regen said, she didn't add 'River's old friend', but she thought it. "She invited us out to Newhope."
"Really?" Gabriel asked. This was obviously going to be a conversation; he cleared his throat. "How charming."
"She said she'd love to show us around the world before she was shipped off to the core."
"What a little darling."
"She said her grandfather would pay our fare."
"That's very generous of Reginald."
There was a very long pause before Regan found the courage to say. "I want to go."
"What?" Gabriel laughed casually, turning to look at his wife, very amused.
"I would really like to go," Regan said with some more confidence. "It's the off season here; you've been working very hard . . . of late."
"It's been busy."
"Please, Gabriel, let's go," She was practically begging now. "What possible harm can come of it?"
"You'll turn into a blubbering fool," her husband snapped, far more meanly than he meant to.
"Well I think I have a right to," Regan said, just as viciously. "My children . . ."
"I know all about what happened to your children!" Gabriel yelled, before she could say a word more. "They were my children as well! I think some times you forget!"
"I'm going!" Regan said. "I want to see Regina and I want to speak face to face with Reginald, and I want to go someplace new so that I don't hear the echoes of my children's laughter in every damn room! And I want you to come with me because you are my husband and I know they were your children and I know you hear those damning echoes as loudly as I do."
There was another very heavy, very long, very audible pause in the conversation.
Gabriel broke the silence by clearing his throat again, "You're right. We'll go."
"Good," Regan quipped, taking a deep breath and wiping the slight dampness in the corners of her eyes away with her pinky finger. "We leave tomorrow at eight a.m., express flight. Two day's hence we'll relaxing with Reginald and his granddaughter at their lovely villa."
"Wonderful," Gabriel harrumphed.
To Be Continued . . .