He's Got a Secret
Day 2 – Scars
(Author's note: the poem River senses Oliver reading is "After Apple-Picking" by Robert Frost.)
To the majority of Serenity's crew, the ship was primarily that – a ship. Each of them held closer to a different facet of it, of course – whether as a method of conveyance, or a way of doing business, or a strange metal beast to be cared for and chivvied along, or a thing to do and place to be until the next thing or place came along.
To River Tam, though, Serenity was home, and family, and life.
Most of the others had parents or siblings elsewhere who worried about them and got occasional visits, who sent and received messages and care packages. With the possible exception of Captain Reynolds, they had some planet they could return to if – God forbid – Serenity was lost to them. But River knew, from talking to Simon, from the things Simon wouldn't say but couldn't help thinking about, that she didn't have such options. They'd been cut off from family by their father's intransigence, by Simon's stubbornness, and by how those two immovable objects had clashed when it came to her, to her fate. Still, if they were all separated, Simon could probably blend in someplace, become just one of the multitude.
Provided, of course, his little sister wasn't with him.
Thanks to what the Alliance's scientists had done to her, though, blending in would never be an option River had. She was too fast, too strong, too smart, too deadly, too gorram strange to ever be just a face in the crowd. Plus, there was the whole "wanted by the Alliance" thing. And so, for the foreseeable future at least, the refuge of Serenity was the only place she could really be. She was as bound to the rickety ship as a figurehead to a sailing vessel of old.
But, she mused as she got up and went to the galley to prepare breakfast for the crew – one of her chores that day – it wasn't so bad. Compared to the Alliance "school," it was almost paradisiacal.
Here she had things to do that were either terribly exciting or so boringly normal she could manage them half-asleep – none of the hidden traps (emotional as well as physical) that she'd sensed at every moment of her time at the school or the hospital. She had people who knew her and her troubles, and were understanding about them, around whom she could let down her guard a little. Her older brother, with whom she'd long been closer to than her distant dad or self-effacing mom, was still with her to keep her safe. Kaylee was around to play games with, and Oliver to borrow jokes and books from, and Inara to model the ways of a lady, and Zoe as an example of how to tough out tough times. Captain Reynolds always kept an eye out for her, like she was the daughter he'd never had (or, closer to the mark, the surrogate for the daughter he hadn't yet had). And Jayne …
… well, Jayne … that was a little more complicated.
As she brought out the pans and bowls and canisters of protein, she let the crew's early-morning thoughts drift through her head. The telepathy the Alliance witch-doctors had saddled her with had been one of the most difficult aspects of her changed nature to get used to. But familiarity had brought a certain peace. Strangers' minds could still make her wince, but she was so used to the Serenity crew that sometimes she didn't even notice their silent "voices."
When she did notice, she always picked up Simon's first. And right now, he was … oh. More like they were. She'd gotten past the point of feeling uncomfortable at being privy to Simon and Kaylee's thoughts at times like this – after all, it's not like she had a choice, or was playing voyeur out of some prurient interest. If anything, she was just glad that her big brother and her new best friend were so happy together. But she also noticed the residue of Simon's shock at having held Jayne at scalpel point the previous day, his worry at being so potentially violent and "unprofessional." And in the back of Kaylee's mind was always the question of why Simon never called her "pretty" – a question that one of these days, she'd need to ask, and Simon would need to answer …
Zoe was up on the bridge, as she had been for hours – the old soldier, soldiering on through the night watch. And not just with the duties of the ship, either. She was still grieving the loss of her charming, exasperating husband to accident on Miranda … and the loss of their baby to a miscarriage not long after. But she never let the pain show; she'd suppressed it so far that River might feel it more strongly than she did at this point.
Captain Reynolds … no sign of him. He was probably still out with the posse sent to bring back all the plunder the gang of robbers had stolen (or, at least, what was left of the plunder) – hopefully there would be no complications. Inara was still asleep, having been up half the night convincing herself she wasn't worrying about the captain; right now she was dreaming about Siamese cats … talking ones. And Oliver was enjoying some morning reading … oh, she knew this one! "My long two-pointed ladder's sticking through a tree/Toward heaven still …" He'd loaned her that volume a few months before, and she'd loved the short, homey poems about roads in woods, blue skies and butterflies and snowfalls in empty places.
And then there was Jayne … poor Jayne. He was still dwelling on what he'd been through, what she knew about it, and who she might tell …
Deep down, part of Jayne Cobb was still scared spitless of her. Which made sense – she was unpredictable, something he couldn't account for, and he liked stability. Besides, she was less than half his size, yet had already demonstrated she could knock him cold. But his outburst the previous day, the one about her being a demon-woman, had been the first in months. He no longer talked about putting her out the airlock or turning her over to the Alliance for the reward money. And in return, she didn't stab him in the leg, and Captain Reynolds didn't put him out the airlock. It was progress.
And increasingly, relations between them had become less tense. Sometimes he could be downright friendly, or jocular, or … well, there were clearly some moments when he wanted to be more than friendly. Just as there were some where she wanted him to. But he'd shown admirable restraint, in deference to her age (still only seventeen) and her brother's position (guy who sewed him up after getting shot in the pigu or elsewhere). The future showed promise … provided she didn't keep screwing things up like she had yesterday.
That was the other problem with telepathy: besides the constant noise in your head, you ended up stuck with everyone else's secrets. Here she was, just a teenager, and she knew every crime her crewmates had committed, every embarrassment they'd ever experienced, every word they wished they had or hadn't said. She knew what was behind Oliver's ambivalence about the Alliance, and why Zoe preferred not to cook meals, and who had taught Mal how to tell someone was cheating at cards, and how Inara had lost her virginity (actually, that story was hilarious; she wished the Companion would tell it sometime, as it would do a lot to humanize the crew's view of her …). And now, after yesterday's little incident in sick bay, she knew what Jayne didn't want known about him, and how it affected so much of his life.
And when she had seen it, she did what she thought any good nurse – or friend – would do, and tried to comfort him. Only it hadn't worked. At all.
In retrospect, she probably shouldn't have said anything. By speaking, she'd not only demonstrated to Jayne that she knew (bad enough), but accidentally rubbed his nose in it. And furthermore, from Jayne's point of view she'd given hints that might clue in Simon, which would take the shame to a new level. She'd been foolish, she realized now – or perhaps "naïve" was the better term. The only way Simon had been able to settle Jayne down was by …
… by pulling a knife on him. Because Jayne didn't go for subtlety and softness. A sharp blade, he understood.
Hmmm. Maybe that was the way to approach things – head-on. Jayne always seemed to appreciate a show of force, a simple and straightforward interaction. The next time he got angry, she could always get angry back, show him he wasn't the only one who could make noise. As long as he didn't pull a gun, she had no reason to be physically afraid of him. Maybe it would help.
Of course, doing it without hinting at his secret would be tricky …
She soon had ample opportunity to try out her hypothesis. Simon wanted Jayne back in the sick bay that afternoon to check the dressings on his wound – well, collection of wounds – and make sure there was no infection. Jayne, naturally, wasn't interested. He also wasn't given a choice; Zoe, in charge until Captain Reynolds returned, told him point-blank that she didn't want to see his face until the doctor was finished, and that was that.
"Okay, any unusual pain in the affected area?" Simon asked.
"Not unusual pain," Jayne drawled. "'Bout what you'd expect, I guess …"
"Any seepage?"
Jayne's brow furrowed. "Seepage?"
"Any liquid coming out from under the bandages?"
"Oh. Nah, none of that."
"That's a good sign. Okay, same as yesterday –"
WHAM! That was all it had taken to trigger the memories in Jayne's mind. River took a deep breath.
"– drop your trousers, bend over and I'll make sure everything is all right."
"Uh …" Jayne was groping about in his mind for a way to stall. His eyes lit on River. "… does she have to be in here?"
Simon hesitated for a moment. River could sense the thoughts he was weighing in his mind: the tension of yesterday's events, versus the negative possibilities of being alone in sick bay with an unwilling (and much stronger) patient. Quietness, or safety? Safety won. "Yes, she does."
Deep in his throat, Jayne growled in frustration. He was still looking at River. "Fine. But I don't want you poking around in my head."
Inspiration struck. "I don't poke in your head," she responded sharply.
Jayne's look turned into a glare. "Hell you don't."
"River …," Simon, alarmed, tried to intervene.
River waved him off, and took a step toward Jayne, up to the opposite edge of the sick bay bed. "I've never poked around in your head."
Jayne leaned over now, but only to get in River's face. One fist bunched at his side. "Chui-niu! You liar! You –"
River closed the gap between their noses to about an inch, and cut him off, her voice going up to maximum. "I'M NOT IN YOUR HEAD! YOU'RE IN MINE!"
Jayne froze, stunned. Which, truth be told, was just the effect she'd hoped for. "What?" he squawked.
"You heard me! I don't go looking for your thoughts. You broadcast them out all over the gorram place! And I'm stuck having to listen to them! Every time you want me to shut up, every time you wish I'd go away, every time you think about having sex with me, I have to hear it, whether I want to or not!"
Simon jumped in. "Wait. You think about having sex with my sister?"
River, not moving, answered before Jayne could. "Almost every male thinks about it, about almost every female. It's basic evolutionary strategy. Doesn't mean anything."
"But …" A suddenly subdued Jayne was still trying to understand what River had said.
"But," River interjected, "just because I know what you're thinking doesn't mean I want to! And it doesn't mean I'm going to tell anyone. I don't gossip – not about you, not about anybody. So don't get kuang on me. Dong ma?"
A few seconds of verbal silence, though not mental – no one's mind actually stops working short of clinical death. Finally, Jayne answered. "Got it."
River knew, however, that for Jayne's sake – and maybe her brother's physical health – she couldn't let up on the pressure yet. "Now, the doctor needs to check your pigu to make sure it's healing right. So do what he says." Then, quieter but with more emphasis: "You're a grown man. Act like it."
Jayne's face froze at that. But eventually he nodded, pulled back, shucked his pants and shorts, bent over the bed and prepared to let Simon work. And his eyes never left hers the whole time.
"Well, it looks okay, though you'll probably have some scars," Simon told him. It only took a couple more minutes to lay down another layer of topical antiseptic and put a new dressing over Jayne's damaged cheek. But Simon was distracted the entire time, and River knew why. Finally, as he was finishing up, he spoke it aloud. "I don't think like that about every female, do I?"
River gave him a bright smile. "No." Pause. "But you're weird."
And Jayne, still angled over the bed, let out a snort of laughter. Which, again, was just what she'd been hoping to achieve.
