Author's Note: Ficlet for the LJ ff_friday challenge. May 8's subject: use the words given. I stretched the challenge words a little bit for this drabble. Length: just about 1,000 words. My word count included ". . ." as three words, so I'm just about at the limit.
Clamor
By Trisana McGraw
Simon would say she is awake, but he still doesn't understand that no matter what her body does, her mind is always sleeping. Tonight, she just wants some peace and quiet, but in every room people's spoken and unspoken words reaching through the walls and filling her mind. It's becoming a chore to carry pieces of them inside, as if these parts can replace the lost bits.
Near the engine, Kaylee tosses and turns restlessly, half-formed thoughts flitting through her mind. She briefly remembers Jubal Early's haunting calm, how he had entered her home uninvited and had made threats to similarly violate her body. Warm tears leak from her eyes, and she shakes her head angrily. She needs something to take her mind off this trauma. Letting her mind drift, she imagines Simon, and immediately she relaxes.
After basking in the glow of her fantasies, she reopens her eyes and makes a decision: She wants that doctor. She is a healthy young woman who has always wanted to better her life. She got herself the job on Serenity; then she made the effort to befriend Inara. Now she has a new target in mind; she knows what she wants, and it will be the `verse to pay if she doesn't get it. Pulling on her grease-stained jumpsuit, she walks decisively toward the galley.
The many thoughts are becoming more intense, shoving at one another in River's mind. As she tries to receive them all, they begin to overlap.
Zoë and Wash are spending a luxurious night in bed, but they're doing something new. He has her pinned beneath him, her skin warm and flushed, her face aglow with contentment.
He chuckles, gleeful to be the one in the dominant position. He has her hands clasped tightly in his, their fingers intertwined. He dips his head to her neck and nibbles and kisses his way up to her lips as they both moan.
His eyes shining, he asks, "What do you want?" while moving his body against hers.
She arches against him, loving every moment of loving him, and gasps, "I – "
". . . want it all," Mal tells Inara, completely serious. He never saw himself opening up to her like this, but the time for confessions has come faster than either of them thought. They're sitting on cushions in her shuttle, and he takes her hand in his. "I want everything." He's gone through so many painful hardships in his life, and he desperately wants something happy in the black, some warmth for his broken heart.
Inara stares at him with so much sadness in her eyes, placing her other hand on top of his. She wants this too, but she's learned that people can't follow simple desire alone. Neither of them is ready for this. There are so many complications, and she honestly doesn't know if the two of them have enough strength to brave it together right now. Watching the thoughts flash through her mind, Mal already knows what her answer is. Companion training allows her to keep the tears out of her voice as she finally replies, "You're –"
". . . not going to get it," Jayne says calmly, using a cloth to carefully, almost lovingly, wipe first Vera's barrel and then the handle. Sitting across from him, Simon wishes he had something to similarly occupy his hands with. He looks down at his smooth, pale palms as if evaluating them for the first time. When he thinks Jayne isn't looking, he risks a glance at the mercenary's tanned, callused palms, thinking about the difference between them.
He quickly focuses on a bowl to his left when Jayne's eyes lift. Jayne's faster than Simon realized, though, and the mercenary grins. "Don't be jealous of my hands, doc; yours are prettier." His grin widens when Simon flushes.
After a moment Jayne adds, "You're not gonna get it, though. A normal life, I mean. Everything,' like you said. None of us can. Sure, maybe you'll find someone to share life with ya, like Wash n Zoë, but they're lucky. I bet you had a great rich home where you came from." River doesn't have to read Simon's mind to know he is thinking, Rich, yes, but not exactly great. "But this ship, rickety as she is, is the best home you'll have. You just learn not to hope for anything past what you can do day to day." Jayne's eyes drop back to his beloved weapon, and he adds in a lower voice, "Makes for less disappointments."
Simon is slackjawed at Jayne's small speech. Finally Jayne, noticing Simon's restlessness, looks up again and says, "Here, you wanna do somethin'" – He tosses Simon a rag and points to his knife – "you can start by cleanin' Binky. Be careful, though; he's sharp." With a shadow of a smile that Jayne pretends not to notice, Simon begins cautiously wiping dust from the knife's hilt. Occasionally Jayne offers tips, and they relax into a vaguely friendly conversation about the next job lined up.
Kaylee enters the galley, smiling shyly at Simon, and asks if she might borrow the doctor for a little while. Knowing that "a little while" will be anything but, Jayne sighs and lets Kaylee lead Simon away by the hand. Jayne is left alone at the table with his guns to keep him company, like always.
River stretches out on her bed as the voices inside and outside her head grow fainter. In the passengers' dorms, she can hear Shepherd Book whispering a prayer before retiring for the night. "The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want," he intones, his eyes closed and his head tilted toward the place where God is supposed to be listening. "He makes me lie down in green pastures. . . . Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I shall fear no evil. . . ." His words linger in her mind as she closes her eyes, sleeping within sleep, wanting only to be a healthy, happy girl again.
