Disclaimer: The wonderful characters and the good ship Serenity all belong to Joss Whedon, or Mutant Enemy, or Fox, or whoever actually owns them, and that person or entity is definitely not me. Written for amusement purposes only. No copyright infringement intended or implied.
Rating: T, with rough language warning. May go up for later chapters.
Summary: Eight months after Miranda, the crew of Serenity still struggles to adapt to the "new normal." Constructing, and deconstructing, moments of her life, River attempts to assimilate her new and sometimes painful feelings for Jayne. - - Rayne, but will touch on other pairings. Post-BDM, of course.
Chapter Six: Interlogue I
– Ten Years Ago –
"This is preposterous," the first voice hissed. "It's almost time for dismissal."
"I know," the second voice concurred. "The poor thing has been here nearly all day."
River had awakened from a fitful sleep and now rolled over restlessly in the bed, the crisp, institutional mattress covering crinkling with every movement. It was uncomfortable and made her feel even hotter. She squinted out the smoky window and saw the school nurse talking with one of the assistants from the administrator's office. They didn't realize it, but her cot was right next to an air vent that must have had an outlet in that room, also. Even through the throbbing pain of her headache, she could hear every word they were saying. She shook feverishly under the thin blanket, and closed her eyes again.
She was very hazy from her high temperature, but she did remember feeling faint during the long-awaited holovid viewing of Queen Rensla's famous speech to the Assembly on why the Alliance should honor constitutional monarchies. When she'd come to, she'd looked up at the hologram of the Queen and noticed that half of the the Queen's image seemed to have mysteriously disappeared, not realizing at first it was because her own supine body was blocking the projection from the floor.
"Have you heard anything from the parents? I thought they were called hours ago," asked the nurse.
"They were, multiple times. The father is in some big meeting, and the mother – I can hardly credit this, myself – the mother is apparently shopping in Bahrat-Souk."
"You are kidding me. That's kind of far...still...she's not coming?"
"No. The housekeeper sent the car, but you know we can't release an ill child without a responsible adult to sign the forms."
"Especially with something as contagious as zee-flu."
"Exactly. This child should almost be quarantined! Have you called the hospital?"
"Yes, but they don't want her. Their pediatric wards are full with other cases, and it's just a standard childhood virus to them until the symptoms are debilitating enough to require admittance." The nurse sighed.
"Are you immune? I am." The administrative assistant's voice was apprehensive.
"Yes, thankfully, but I had a cousin that died of it many years ago."
"Oh, that's too bad. We're checking the records…so far about half the children in Ms. Mendelson's class are immune, half not. This could be a nightmare. These parents are going to be very unhappy when we inform them that their precious darlings have been exposed to zee-flu."
There was a small sound of agreement.
"If they have a housekeeper, why can't he come and pick her up?" the nurse asked suddenly.
"What do you mean, 'if they have a housekeeper'? This is the most selective school in the district, isn't it?" The assistant's voice had a hint of sarcasm laced with envy. "Anyway, it's a she. She said they're expecting a shipment of some kind, coming all the way from Aten, and that she'll be fired if she isn't there to secure it."
"I find that hard to believe!"
"Believe it." The assistant replied acidly.
River swallowed around the thickness in her throat and wished the nurse would come in and offer her something to drink. She could have told the nurse that their housekeeper had been instructed to tend to her house duties above anything else, even emergencies involving the children.
"I wouldn't panic just yet, anyway. There's a less than fifteen percent chance that any of them are infected." The nurse tried look on the bright side.
"How do you know that?"
"River calculated it. She told me while I was giving her an analgesic and helping her to bed that after she arrived at school this morning and began to feel unwell, she suspected that it was zee-flu from news reports and the pattern of recent break-outs. She self-treated by applying antiviral lotion to her hands and mouth and purposely staying as far away from her classmates as possible. She said she hadn't coughed or sneezed or emitted any explosive particulate matter, which is usually how the zee-flu virus spreads. She apologized for not reporting to my office sooner, but she told me that she had really wanted to see that holovid of Queen Rensla because it's not available on the cortex."
River could almost feel the nurse smiling, and felt a distant, sickly wave of affection for her.
"The eight-year-old diagnosed herself? And you believed her?" There was a hint of astonished amusement in the assistant's voice.
"Of course I did. I ran a scan first thing to confirm it. I know that you haven't been here long, but haven't you seen her records? This child doesn't even belong in this school. She should be homeschooled, or elevated to secondary form. Probably even university."
"Then why don't her parents do that?"
River could hear the puzzlement in the assistant's voice.
"It says in her file that they believe she needs to be socialized with age-appropriate peers."
They want me to be normal, River corrected her silently.
"I do recall several incidents involving this child that were brought before the administrator…that plan doesn't appear to be working."
"No. She seems to have an impossible time interacting with the other children."
There was a short silence.
"I can't believe they would just leave her here like this. What kind of parents don't come for their daughter?"
A slow tear leaked from River's hot eyes. She knew how her parents felt about her. She was inconveniently strange, talented but odd, too smart, too mouthy, too everything. She didn't have friends, she didn't go on play dates, and she didn't care about toys and clothes. Neither her mother nor her father understood her, and they were too fixated on themselves and on Simon to try. She thought she had disciplined herself not to let their favoritism for her brother hurt her any more, but it did as she acknowledged the truth: they would have come immediately for Simon.
The com buzzed and the nurse answered it.
"Yes?"
"We have a gentleman at the front cubicle, asking for River Tam," said the disembodied voice.
"The father?" exclaimed the assistant in relief.
"No – it's a…who did you say…? Simon Tam. He's her …older brother, and he says he has a car ready."
River's eyes squeezed shut and she almost sobbed with relief. She wanted to get out of this bed, with the scratchy stiff sheets, and this room, with the unpleasant smell of illness and the strange greenish lights that made her headache worse. She wanted Simon. She wanted home.
"Is he a legal adult?" The assistant asked hopefully.
"He looks young." The other voice sounded dubious.
"I remember him from his school days here…he's probably about eighteen or nineteen," said the nurse.
He's seventeen, River thought. He'll be eighteen in twenty-two days.
"Eighteen...nineteen…twelve, I'll take anything at this point. I'll fill out the forms and clear the hallway to the back entrance. We can have the brother meet us there." The assistant was clearly relieved to have found a solution to this problem.
"Thank goodness! We can get this poor little mite home. I'm sure once they see how ill she is, her parents will do everything they can for her." The nurse clucked optimistically.
"Or hire someone who will." The assistant commented bitchily as she left the room.
There was a tiny knock at the door, and the nurse came in.
"River, sweetie? Are you awake now? How's that fever? Did the pain reliever help with your headache?" She came in and brushed her cool hand across River's brow.
"Yes," River replied scratchily, the lymph nodes in her throat swollen. It wasn't true, her headache was worse, but she didn't want anything to prevent her from being able to leave.
"I did a scan, and the nanotech viral array indicated that you were absolutely right. It is zee-flu. So we're going to get you in a wheelchair and take you out the back, so that we can avoid the other children. Do you understand?"
River nodded.
"Your brother is here…Simon, right?" the nurse said with soothing cheer as she began to unfold the wheelchair in the corner. "He's going to get you home and then your mum and dad can take good care of you."
You have obviously never met Gabriel and Regan Tam, River observed silently, shivering grimly as her fever began to rise.
&&&
A/N: Interlogue? What's an interlogue? Well, I didn't know what else to call these little flashback-y snippets, and since they are going to come in the middle…interlogues. God, I hate the parental Tams. Can you tell? Thanks for reading and for all the nice reviews! Gem
Cookiedough15: The title of chapter two was inspired only by Mal's unspoken thought. ::grin::