/N: I want to be clear that this section is NOT a reflection on adoptive parents. It's my picture of some of the dangers that might exist for children in a frontier society. I have great admiration for those who form their families through adoption. People like Mr. Yarborough and agencies such as the one described here are by no means representative of the adoptive community in reality.
A Damsel in Distress
River contacted that children's agency, Cooperative for Children, once a week as they traveled farther from the planet where they'd left Darwhen. The day that was Darwhen's sixth birthday passed. In a few months they received the news that Darwhen had been taken into a family.
"We can't give you any of the details, for confidentiality's sake, you understand," the woman speaking said smoothly. "But if all goes well the papers will be finalized within a few weeks, and Darwhen will be settled."
River tried to smile, and she was in fact glad for the circumstance. She hadn't expected that a child as old as Darwhen would be adopted so quickly, and that she could be was all for the good.
But she still missed her, even as things aboard Serenity had seemed to return to normal. Life moved on, though, and things weren't the same. She didn't visit Jayne's bunk for a midnight drink again. It was too much, missing Darwhen, missing her old easy partnership with him, and trying to avoid thinking about what her own future was likely to be. Would she have to grow old on her own, no one at her side because they weren't willing to take on the remains of her mental instability? No children to look after her in her old age? She had Serenity, and family here, and she valued that. At the moment, though, they didn't seem enough to make up for what she couldn't have.
Or for what she feared to reach out and take.
Even the jobs the crew did had changed. Mal was making a conscious attempt, under Inara's influence, to weight their activities more to the legal side. Which, in River's terms, translated to boring.
And Jayne was different.
He had stopped the bit of chasing he'd been doing. But they weren't back to what they had been. There was distance, where once there had been connection. There was edgy silence, where once there had been easy quiet. It wasn't that they had never had rifts before – they'd argued plentifully. But this felt permanent.
It wasn't comfortable, or simple, or good. It depressed and angered River at the same time. And the remnants of Darwhen's sojourn with them haunted places she'd sat and things she'd done.
One night River awoke in the midst of a rolling bout with her own blanket. She'd been sleeping restlessly, and now something had awakened her. Something specific. She quieted herself and waited, trying to sense out what it had been. Then she untangled herself from her blanket, pulled a pair of shorts on under the oversize T-shirt that she wore, and crept silently from her bunk.
Down the crew's quarters corridor, onto the bridge, to the Cortex. No one was present, but there was an incoming wave. Disturbed, and troubled further that she couldn't pinpoint the reason, River reached out to accept it.
The screen flickered and there was a disorienting close-up view of a red-and-white patterned nightshirt, before its wearer backed up far enough from the screen to be seen. River's heart kick-started in her chest and then settled down to a more rapid beat than before. The first real smile she'd felt in months came to her mouth.
"Darwhen!" She kept her fingers back from touching the image on the screen.
The girl there looked back silently for a moment. Past the immediate delight of seeing her, and blocked by distance from Reading, River knew that something was wrong. Her previous unease returned, and she waited tensely.
"Hi, River." Darwhen didn't smile, and neither did she look straight on so that River had the sense of meeting her eyes. Instead she stared sideways, around the edges, at something to the side that River couldn't see.
"How are you?" River finally encouraged, when nothing more seemed forthcoming. Darwhen chewed on her lip, looked to the side again.
"I'm fine," she said finally. Still staring off, she continued; "I got adopted, you know."
River nodded. "We were happy to hear that, Darwhen. I hope … I hope you're happy?" She ended the sentence with an up-pitched question mark. She could see perfectly well that the girl wasn't happy. Her skin looked thin, somehow, and there was a bruised look to the eyes that still wouldn't come to midline. Her hair didn't look as though it had been cared for since they'd left her.
Darwhen didn't answer. She looked down, and River could see enough of her hands to know they were twisting around each other. She'd never seen Darwhen do that, even right after her mother had been killed. River was beginning to feel anger, and fright. She tamped them down so that she could concentrate on getting information, and reached to hit the 'record' button.
"You said I could wave you …" Darwhen's voice petered out. River's heart kinked in on itself.
"Yes, I did," she said as gently as she knew how. But the words still came out a little rough, around her fright. "What time is it there?"
"It's late. I couldn't get to the cortex earlier -- he thinks I'm in bed …" the little girl jerked at a noise in the background, and became very still for a second, hunched in around herself. When nothing else seemed forthcoming, she straightened back up.
"Darwhen, where are you?" Half-formed intentions were solidifying in River's brain.
"I'm at Haage's Width. It's a little town here …" Darwhen seemed to make a decision; for the first time since the strange conversation began she firmed her lips together and faced right on to River. "It's not good. Come and get me. River. Please." There was a glitter of something desperate in the voice and the eyes. Another sound from somewhere closer than before came over the pickup; Darwhen gasped, reached out, and killed the feed.
River was already moving. In the pilot's chair, she charted their current location, found the planet where they'd left Darwhen in the care of others, and plotted the fastest way there. She locked it in and had Serenity on the new course before she went to knock at Mal's bunk.
Inara answered. At the look on River's distressed face, she stepped back to allow her in, but River shook her head.
"Come and see," she commanded, and turned back to the bridge. She hesitated a moment with an eye to where Jayne lay sleeping; then she shook her head and went to knock there, too. Whatever else was between them, he was her partner. And he was still Jayne.
He had sleep in his eyes when he answered, but it was quickly gone a few moments later as the entire crew gathered, some querulously, in the cockpit.
"Shush!" River gestured sharply, and the look on her face silenced Simon's mumblings. She clicked on the screen and Mal shifted his feet at the recorded view of Darwhen's seated form.
"You said I could wave you …" it was evident to all of them that something was wrong. They watched to the end.
"Je shr shuh muh lan dong shi," Mal put into the silence afterward.
"She looked mighty rough," Kaylee ventured. Her eyes were wide with anxiety. Simon nodded as he put an arm around her.
"Something's certainly wrong," he agreed. River sighed, both distressed that they agreed with her assessment and heartened that they were concerned by it. Inara hooked an arm through the captain's.
"Mal," she started, but didn't get any further.
"We're going to fix this, right?" It was Zoë's voice, quiet as always, but assertive. She knew what the correct answer was.
"Yeah, yeah," Mal nodded, a bit annoyed that they would question it. "River, plot a course that'll get us there soonest."
River sighed again, relaxing a bit back into the pilot's seat. "I have, captain." She looked him firm in the eyes. "Thank you."
He shook his head. "What needs to be, albatross. No thanks necessary for what's … necessary."
"Wave the agency," Inara urged. "Tell them we have reason to be concerned. They need to send an agent to see what the situation is."
River nodded and turned to do her bidding without asking for Mal's say-so. He didn't comment, but took over the speaking when a representative showed on the screen. The conversation didn't go well. Once again, confidentiality was cited, and the woman said soothingly that thorough background checks and continued monitoring ensured every child's health and well-being. It devolved into a state of veiled threats (not-so-veiled, on Mal's end) before Zoë reached over and terminated the wave.
"Should have let Inara do the talking," Jayne groused. He'd been pacing back and forth tapping the spot usually occupied by his holster. There was general agreement with that statement, except from Mal, who became captain-ey and then turned the discussion to their fuel situation.
"We'll need to make at least one stop," Kaylee admitted, with an apologetic glance at River. "This is further than we'd planned."
"That's understood," River nodded. "I'll add that to the course". She fretted inwardly about the extra half-day it would take, but it couldn't be helped.
There was some lingering after that; no one really felt like going back to bed. Zoë went first, but not before she stopped beside River and laid a brief hand on her shoulder. River looked up to meet her gaze. Zoë nodded, again briefly, and River could almost have smiled as she watched her leave. That was all right, then.
What kind of rottenness is this?
The trip seemed interminable. By the third day, River had gone over their course five times, looking for ways to trim its length. She never found any. She played with her food to hide that she wasn't eating much, and wandered Serenity at night.
She also spent large tracts of time exercising in the cargo bay, trying to fight off the load of questions that seemed near to tipping her over.
Jayne found her down there, in shorts and a tank, sweaty and tired. Even with her damp hair pulled back in a pony tail and weariness in every bone, even with the depressed air that permeated the ship like oil soaking a clean cloth, he felt a flare of desire at the lithe muscled body revealed by River's workout clothes. She was struggling, with her leg in the air for one last kick. It trembled as she brought it back to the floor. His lust mingled with annoyance at this evidence that she wasn't taking care of herself.
"How long you been doing this?" He questioned, moving in near to her. She shook her head and let him, which was an indication of how not-herself she was. She stood and swayed a bit and let him extend a hand, slide it up her arm, cup her shoulder. For a second he absorbed that, it felt right and good to have her skin under his.
"I don't know," she answered him dully. She stood stiffly, and then kind of wilted against the pressure of his arm.
"Sit down," he told her. She silently followed his lead to an exercise mat against one wall, behind a crate, under the catwalk.
"Not sleepin' or eatin' ain't gonna help her any," Jayne said gruffly. He squatted on his heels directly facing her. "Workin' yerself to a bare nub sure ain't. If there's trouble to be had when we get there, she'll need you in better shape than this."
"Yes, you're right, I know." River leaned back against the wall, her knees drawn up. She stared at the ceiling and he stared at her face; and, to be honest, her chest as it drew slow deep breathes. "But I close my eyes and see hers", River continued, "and I'm at fault, I shouldn't have let Mal make me let her go."
"We all did that," he said reprovingly. "We thought it was the best thing. Nobody's at fault here except that tian xiz shou you de ren dou gai si children's agency."
River shook her head. "I already tried hating them. It didn't help."
"Eh." To Jayne's mind, fixing the blame on someone else usually helped enormously. "Well, we're doing what we can. Get there fast. Fix it."
"If we can." River shook her head back and forth against the inner hull. "We don't even know what's wrong. The agency might not let us have her back."
Jayne stared, incredulous. "The agency? We've fought off Reavers, feds, Operatives, and armies, and you're worried about some bureaucratic niao se dub doo gway?"
River blinked, and caught his eye. For the first time in days she felt a little bit like smiling. And also for the first time in days, she really looked at Jayne. The fierce scowl around his eyes, the twist to his lip, the disdainful set to his powerful shoulders. He was so big and real and precious.
And close. Her brain quivered with the knowledge of it. How had she let him get so close? She didn't want to need him, but she did. She didn't want to be feeling this coursing want through her inner parts, either, just because he was hulking so near and touchable. But she couldn't seem to help it, and fighting it … was starting to exhaust her.
He was rock and she was water and she wanted to be around him, over him, on him, wanted to get into his cracks and fissures and flow through, smooth them out …
"Rivers erode rock," she murmured, voice trembling, "I would grind you down. You'd wear away."
Jayne tracked every word, and the heat in her eyes. Ever only banked, never out, it flared up swift and searing in him. So with a slow-drawn breath, he let his knees drop down on either side of her thighs and tilt him forward. He set a large hand on each of her bare knees, slow, and pushed, so that her feet slid down between his legs and there were no barriers between his torso and hers. River let him do it, let him lean in and over her, brace a fist on the plating beside her head and with the other hand bracket her jaw.
She trembled. So did his hand.
"Grind on me all you want to," he rasped, fingers stroking down her throat while the hard pad of his thumb rubbed across her bottom lip.
She swallowed against the swirling ache of desire in her throat, but it didn't help, and she knew her eyes were wide and she knew his face was coming closer and she did nothing to stop it.
She let her mouth meet his hard and fast, let it drop open and welcome his tongue, let herself be pressed up against the coolness of the wall by the heat of his body. And her voice wanted to whimper and her arms wanted to be around him and her hands wanted to know his skin, so she let all of that happen too. His T-shirt rucked up and her fingers dug into the heavenly muscles of his back, while he got both his hands around her hips and pushed again. He bore them both down, till they were flat on the floor and she was covered with his hardness and arcing up against him with mewling cries.
His shaky hands massaging into her scalp, he let her mouth go free long enough for gasps of air and then he assaulted her neck, suckling and scraping. Her head turned so her teeth could close over his thumb as she sucked it into her wetness and heat. His breath harsh, he slid his body down hers while his mouth dipped urgently below her jaw. He heard her want of him in the soft keening she made, and it fired fierce delight in him.
With her head pressed back against the mat, River shifted her legs agitatedly until one slipped outside his and she got it hooked around his hip. Jayne let out a long low groan as she used that leverage to crush her pelvis and abdomen full up against him, while he shoved an arm beneath her shoulder-blades and bent her over it. She massaged the clenching muscles of his lower back so hard it hurt him, but it was a good pain, and twisted his craving even tighter in his belly. Returning the forceful thrust of her hips, he set his teeth under her collarbone.
Just as something clanged against the grating above them.
He froze, heart pounding, his head in the delicate curve of her shoulder, while her hands fisted on his back. They lay slicked with sweat and panting and trying to be still while someone walked above them. River stared up into the shadows but couldn't see for a moment, couldn't really sense anything but Jayne on her and someone unwanted in their space. For it truly did feel as though they'd taken over space and the 'verse, there, just for a moment.
Whoever that was wasn't going away – they were coming down the stairs. Jayne pressed his mouth into River's bare arm to muffle one of the vilest things she'd ever heard him say, and then rolled abruptly over and off her. She sat up, slowly, trying to make herself realize that the person was nearly down to the cargo bay level and if they didn't want to be discovered like this …
"Go on," Jayne hissed at her from the floor, "You gotta distract 'em. I'm … gonna need a minute."
River just stared hazily into his eyes, still catching her breath, not quite able to disconnect and rejoin the rest of reality. He gestured sharply, and she blinked; then she was able to rise, and walk out from behind the crate.
It was Inara, carrying a long metal case. River didn't even try a smile, but after an attempt at making her hair hide certain areas of reddened and abraded skin (her shorts and tank top were suddenly far too little clothing) she forced her legs to cross to the older woman with her arms out in a wordless offer to help.
"No, that's all right, sweetie, it's not heavy," Inara smiled. "Although a little dusty." River dropped her arms gratefully. They still trembled, and it wasn't from all the bag-punching they'd been doing.
There was a faint thump from around that crate behind her, and River nodded to draw attention.
"Weapon casing," she said, gauging the length and width of the thing. "Your bow, Inara?"
Inara's smile faded. "Yes," she said. "I'd never thought to need it again. But something about this with Darwhen feels …"
"As though such might be required," River finished quietly. Inara nodded.
"River, are you all right? You're very flushed. You're losing your strap, there."
River pushed the tank's thin strap back up her arm. "I've just been exercising. Too much, Jayne says." Ai ya, why had she mentioned Jayne?
"Jayne is right. And I think you need to sleep more." Inara watched River's eyes dart around the cargo bay and took pity on her. "Food wouldn't go amiss either, I believe. Let me get this bow settled and then get you some tea."
River felt no desire for tea but she nodded, to get Inara out of the room and concentrating on something besides her.
When they were a day short of their destination, there was another wave from Darwhen. It was short and to the point. It was midday by Serenity's timetable, and Mal was in the cockpit when it came in. Darwhen wanted River, of course, but she was rushed and broke down quickly and spoke to Mal.
He recorded most of it, but he went to find River immediately after. She was with Zoë and Simon in the shuttle, cleaning out the storage for something to do. She'd sensed something, because she was facing him with fear writ large on her expression when he came in.
"I just talked to Darwhen," Mal said quiet-like, knowing it was obvious he had no great yearning to say what had to be said.
"How is she?" Zoë asked, in a tone that said she knew it wasn't good. Mal shook his head. Simon went to hold River's arm.
"The Liou coe shway duh biao-tze huh hoe-tze fuh ur-tze that adopted her has been beatin' on her. He found out she talked to somebody, though not who, and she got hurt for it." He fell silent, not having anything else to offer the stricken faces before him.
River was shaking, but she held to Simon's hand and spoke.
"I want to talk to her."
"Don't think we should be wavin' back," Mal spoke soft. "Just make things worse for her. I tried the agency, again, and all they said was that they checked out our complaint." His lip twisted. "Said there was 'no cause for concern', that Darwhen broke some ribs falling off a fence."
"That's not what Darwhen told you," River asserted. He shook his head to say that she was right and hoped she wasn't picking up from his head the few details Darwhen had let slip. River didn't need that.
River's eyes were wet and too wide as she pulled away from her distressed brother.
"I need to go to my bunk, Simon," she whispered at him, batting softly at his outstretched arm. "Let me go." She went out the door looking kind of blind, so Mal followed to watch she didn't fall. She got to her bunk without mishap and closed it behind her.