Reaction
In a week, they didn't find another settlement on the little barren world, nor records of such. They took time to raise a stone and do ceremony for those from Darwhen's town who'd died beneath the water, and especially for her mother. Now free of her arm cast, Darwhen observed it all closely, letting a few tears escape but not many. She was mostly quiet. River figured that was normal for what she'd been through.
Throughout the week, River tried not to be obvious about avoiding Jayne; it was easier without having to use the crutches anymore. Doors were opening when she meant them to be closed. In a 'verse where so many things had happened to her and around her and about her without and against her will, anything she could control was precious. The thought of one more thing, an emotion or reaction that she could not rule … sometimes she managed equanimity. But other times she felt that that one more thing would break her, again and finally.
It had been a comfort to think Jayne didn't feel the attraction. She'd walled up her brain a long time ago, and only left a few bricks loose to take out now and then on the job, to let the thoughts of others filter into hers. She wasn't Reading Jayne. But she knew he didn't dwell in his thoughts. So he'd probably not processed out what she was doing, watching and wanting him. She supposed that being sane, he might not need to process. It had felt safe to want and watch, because he didn't and so there was distance.
But there at the table she'd known he'd felt something. And he hadn't fought it for one second. He'd given in. Mentally succumbed to the craving; cheddar and apples. The sharpness and sweetness, the addictiveness. And she was afraid that if they were both wanting, but she was the only one fighting, she wouldn't be strong enough.
Addiction was dangerous, she'd always been told. Because once the physical dependency was gone, it was the psychological hold that kept you trapped. The emotional dependence on the high, the tactile fixations, the need that went beyond chemical.
She and Jayne had chemistry, it seemed, likely the kind that exploded labs. But there was more. There were the opening doors . . . and she didn't know if she was strong enough to handle what might be on the other side.
A meeting of the crew's minds headed them off-world, to the next nearest planet. Mal grumbled about the unlikeliness of findin' a payin' job there.
"Wasting time and fuel, Albatross," he muttered as they stamped off the ramp and out into the dusty sunlight of the new world. Darwhen, as always, was at River's side and stared up at him. River let a hand drift through the girl's tight curls while she glared at her captain.
"The provision of a family is of greater import than monetary assets," she said. "There will be time to make a payday later. Darwhen needs to not be alone in the 'verse."
Mal couldn't argue with that, really, but he tried.
"Ain't gonna have much to find her a family with, we don't find us some of those assets."
'Assets' didn't sound like a very nice word. Darwhen purposed to look it up when they got back on the ship. Then she remembered she might not be coming back. If they found somebody to take her in, here, she'd be staying.
She turned her head back toward Serenity as they walked away. Somehow it didn't seem such a bad place, right then. It was more like the way she first saw it, hanging in the air to rescue her and River. It seemed if she ran to it, she'd be rescued again.
Darwhen let go of River's pants leg and reached up for her hand. Surprised, River looked down, but kept walking while their fingers twined. She'd gotten so used to that small weight on her leg that it felt strange to walk without it. But she found she liked the hand-holding better. Darwhen's hand was tiny; River felt her heart kink up a little as she pressed the small fingers gently.
Jayne walked at River's other side, which was his accustomed place. He was considering on things.
That night at the dinner table, when she'd reacted so violently to just his leg against hers, had gotten him to thinking. All those times she'd come to him in the cargo bay, watched him work out, and gotten close enough that his calm was seriously disturbed … might be she was feelin' the same kind of attraction he'd been, and wasn't sure how to handle it. He knew she could feel sexual tension and desire; she'd hooked up a time or two when they sat down on worlds for longer'n a week. He leered to himself, remembering the doc's reaction when he'd found out about it. That was after they'd lifted from dirt the second time she'd been with somebody. That time, River had just tossed her head and declared her independence.
The first time … Jayne doubted Simon knew yet about the first time. She'd never breathed a word to anyone, that he could tell.
Jayne had still been adjusting to treating River like an equal, then. They'd sat down on a moderate-size Rim world to find some business. Instead of a cargo job, somehow Mal had ended up taking on a security detail for a month-long house party on some moneyed muckety-muck's country estate – the kind of muckety-muck who wanted his security to be a little less law-abidin' than was the norm. Mal had assigned them shifts in pairings that had been becoming automatic; Mal and Zoë alternated patrolling the house and grounds with River and Jayne. Simon and Kaylee did background checks on every guest and servant and ran communications. Inara mingled as a guest, spying on the other invitees for their host.
There had been an actual guest, son of one of the richest men on this particular planet, who'd been fascinated by what Jayne had to guess was the daintiest security guard he'd ever seen. A few years older than River, he'd started hanging around on their night shift, pestering the girl with questions and generally making himself all manner of annoying.
River hadn't been annoyed, though. She'd been wary, then interested. She no longer hung around after they were done workin' to talk things over with Jayne. She'd disappear, off in the early morning with that kid for company.
Jayne hadn't done anything but wish her good sexin'. She didn't say anything about it to anyone and he didn't figure it was anyone's business but hers. Aside from finding that he missed their little post-job business talks, he didn't think much about it. Till it was time to leave.
They'd been walking their last tour of the perimeter, the pale sun just starting to peek over the rim of the walled-in gardens. River'd been quiet all night long, but he was used to that, didn't think much on it. He did notice the tightening of her face when the kid showed up, but she went with him easily enough, so Jayne just headed off to a beer and bed.
They were loading up supplies that afternoon and preparing to take off when River reappeared. Jayne was the only one in the cargo bay when she pushed her head silent around the airlock frame, like she didn't want to be seen. When she saw it was just her partner, she headed on in. He saw right off she'd been cryin', though she tried to hide it with her hair. He reached out as she passed him and lifted it aside, looked at her to let her know he'd caught her.
"Got yer heart broke, huh?" He kept his voice low. She just looked at him with big wet eyes.
"Desolation," she said after a minute. "A hired security guard is not good enough to be a prospect for a long-term relationship."
Jayne shrugged, letting his hand fall. "Mebbe not for one half-fancy Core wannabe. If his kid's not smart enough to recognize the worth of ya, he don't deserve ya."
She frowned at him. He laughed. "Yeah, I know, not much help right now, is it? Don't worry, the first time's rough on most everyone. I got the cure in my bunk."
So he'd taken her along, gotten her good and drunk – she was a singing drunk, which he'd never have guessed – and then carried her off to her own bed, though she didn't remember that part. They never discussed it again. Far as he knew, she never discussed it with anybody.
Her business.
But right now he was tryin' to recall how it'd felt, to carry her back to her bunk. All he could remember with certainty was bein' grateful Simon and Kaylee shared, so he didn't get caught doin' it.
What he did recall every detail of, was hauling her unto Serenity in that harness after the dam broke. She'd been limp as a rag. He'd been as afraid as if Reavers were on his back trail, only it wasn't a fear of getin' dead. It was a fear of losin' something. Since he'd never had much but his ma and his guns, and now this crew, he wasn't accustomed to the feeling. Didn't recognize it right away.
But he'd turned around one day and noticed that she'd become important. Intensely, vitally important to him and his well-being. If she wasn't right, he wasn't right. If she was gone … well, he figured glumly that he probably would be, too.
They were headed to a fair-to-middlin' sized town, its more impressive buildings situated at the center, some of them as high as six stories. Jayne had on his best cargo pants and nicest t-shirt, because Mal had insisted. "How we gonna get her off our hands if it looks like a bunch of no-good thieves been havin' the keepin' of her?" the captain had reasoned (no matter, Jayne guessed, that they were thieves). "No one respectable'll want her." Jayne also noticed it went without sayin' that they weren't givin' her to anyone not respectable.
And, apparently, this planet didn't have anyone respectable enough. Because when they lifted, they still had the kid. Zoë didn't even complain about it. The only people who'd shown an interest were a couple so elderly and decrepit Jayne doubted they could take care of themselves, and a hard-faced woman who Mal said prob'ly hadn't changed out of, much less cleaned, her own dress in a matter of months. River's face had said all she needed without her opening her mouth.
There was a small incident on the way back to Serenity, when a group of local boys rushing down the street bowled into River, who was walking with Darwhen up the boardwalk a bit apart from the other crew. One of the boys darted between them, and the girl's hand was pulled loose from River. Somehow her brain flashed back and locked on that moment in the canyon, when she felt the child's arms being flung away from her neck and there was certainty that they were both going to be dead.
"River? River!" A hand was on her shoulder, shaking her, when she became aware of her surroundings again. Her brother's familiar voice battered through the pounding of fear in her blood and brought back the scent of dust and the sounds of the town. She blinked around to find her crew patiently waiting a distance away. She herself was stock-still in the middle of the street, instead of the boardwalk which she remembered being on last. Darwhen – she felt panic again, for a moment, before she saw her standing against Jayne's leg. The big man was a few paces behind Simon, watching River with a few frown lines between his eyes. He didn't seem to mind the small hand hanging unto his pant pocket. His expression cleared when River straightened from her crouching posture and tried to smile into Darwhen's face. The little girl was staring at her with puzzlement.
"I'm all right," River assured her, tamping down some nausea. She nodded her head briskly to cover the embarrassment she invariably felt after having one of her episodes in public. They were so rare now, that she continued to nurse the hope that they'd eventually be gone altogether. Every one she experienced felt like a setback.
The crew, accustomed to both the occurrences and River's generally quick recovery from them, resumed its route to Serenity. River dropped into step beside Darwhen, and felt a relief she couldn't explain when the girl reached for her pants leg. She hadn't let go of Jayne's, though, and so they walked along linked like that, the three of them.
"You OK?" Darwhen ventured at last. River smiled down at her concerned expression.
"Yes," she said firmly. "I'm fine now."
"What happened?"
River bit her lip. She wasn't sure how to answer that. She knew how to explain herself to a doctor, how to describe her symptoms and their triggers. She didn't know how to make things clear to a five-year-old without scaring or confusing her. She looked up to Jayne as she cast mentally for a reply. He just quirked an eyebrow at her. She glared and he grinned.
"A long time ago, some bad people did things with my brain that – weren't good for it. Weren't good for me. Sometimes I don't always act like other people, who have whole brains, would. Just now, those boys running towards and around us reminded me of when we were in the water. And I felt like I was there again, holding unto that statue." She couldn't think of what else to say. Darwhen's nose was wrinkling.
"What about when you work? Do you get scared then?"
River shook her head, glanced at Jayne again. He was just watching her, striding along with Darwhen's fingers now entwined in one of the tool loops sticking out of his left pant leg seam. The sight struck her somehow and gave her heart a little lurch.
"I never get upset like that on the job," she told Darwhen honestly, averting her eyes from Jayne's down to child-level again. "I think because I'm concentrating so hard, that my mind all works together and I can control it. When I'm relaxed, though, sometimes things catch me off-guard. Like today."
Darwhen narrowed her eyes as she stared at River, one side of her mouth tucked in as she chewed on her lip. River wasn't certain she understood, but she couldn't think of another way to explain herself.
"Hey, when she works River's with me," Jayne inserted. He tilted his head down at Darwhen. "What's she got to worry about then, with me watching her back?"
Darwhen considered that, and then nodded slowly. Her face lightened. Apparently she considered having Jayne at one's side to be a good thing.
River walked beside the two of them and had to agree.