Disclaimer: See chapter one.

A/N: Though it doesn't seem like it, this is a pretty important chapter, so please pay attention. Thankee kindly.

Brompton Cocktail

Chapter Sixteen

Kaylee and Simon returned to Serenity to find Mal watching as Jayne shifted massive amounts of plastic-wrapped cardboard containers around using the archaic-and-seldom-utilized pallet jack. "What's all this?" Kaylee asked, blatantly curious.

"Legal cargo," Jayne replied. "Paper stuff, bound for Greenleaf." He settled the last pallet into place, then secured it to its mates with a length of cargo netting. He could feel the ache in his hands migrating up into his palms from all the work and found himself actually grateful for the not-caring haze of the Opianax.

"Short trip," Simon commented, knowing it was only a ten hour trip to the nearby planet. The first time they'd done a run to Greenleaf, he'd been overly-optimistic about getting things for the infirmary, and had been crushingly disappointed to find that – source planet or no – the Alliance's fondness for price-setting and high taxes made it so that any of the medicines manufactured there were actually cheaper when purchased from black market dealers.

Jayne nodded and double-checked his work. With his brain as foggy as it was, he didn't want to leave anything to chance. Be just my gorram luck for the net ta snap just as we hit atmo an' send all this flyin'. The checking also meant he could subtly lean against the pallets as another bout of dizziness washed over him. Wonder if Oriole's done makin' dinner yet? Ain't hungry in the slightest – gorram meds – but I ain't so dizzy with a full stomach neither.

While the merc did his job, Simon's mind was busy mulling over his recent purchase. Is it too soon to buy her jewelry? Or should I have bought something like this months ago? On Osiris, it was considered unseemly for a man to purchase jewelry for a woman that wasn't either a blood-relation or a declared lover. But he'd been away from his homeworld long enough to know that other planets had differing customs. I'd ask Mal, but that man's track-record is enough to deter even the most ignorant of children. I wish Inara were still here – she'd know.

Kaylee was also caught in thinking, but her thoughts were on a decidedly different topic. How come Jayne's movin' so slow? Ain't been slow an' careful like that since the last time he got shot. Her eyes narrowed. I know he ain't been shot, but somethin' ain't right with him. He's done lost weight, an' it ain't like he had any fat on him to start with. Her eyes darted over to where Jayne kept his weights. He ain't used them in a long time, neither. Been over a month since the last time, 'less I missed somethin' late at night. But then again, he sorta fell outta usin' them a whole lot after Shepherd Book died. Too many memories, I guess. Sorta like how Zoë never sleeps in her own bunk no more.

"You 'bout done?" Mal shouted. His hearing was still iffy, though he could actually hear now – it was like everything was heard through a thick layer of wool or water, and every few hours the high-pitched ringing would start up again.

Jayne checked one last connection and straightened. He nodded at the captain, then tried to block out the rocking, illusory breathing of the floor as he headed for the stairs. Mal headed for the intercom and hit a button, "We're ready – let's head out." Inside his head, River's 'voice' said, You're shouting again. Don't shout into the comm. It will blow out the speakers and then Kaylee will be upset with you. Mal rolled his eyes at it, even as he tried to send a mental 'thanks' in her direction.

After the captain had headed off upstairs, Simon turned to Kaylee and they both managed to say, "I got something for you," at the same time. The airlock doors hissed closed behind them, providing an interesting counterpoint to shared laughter. "Ladies first," Simon insisted, once the noise was done.

Kaylee dug into the paper sack she'd received from the rice painter and pulled out a little glass vial on a black silk cord. "Here," she said, a faint pink blush staining her cheeks. Once Simon had it firmly in hand, before he could say a word or even really identify it in any meaningful way, Kaylee sprinted for the engine room.

Peering closely at the grain of rice contained in the vial, Simon had to smile. Guess that answers my earlier question. 'Kaywinnet Lee Frye' was drawn on the grain in microscopic, yet still ornately calligraphic, letters. Instead of following Kaylee, he headed to his room. He had a tiny trinket to locate – one of the very few things that had made it all the way from Osiris with him – before he saw her again.

Up on the bridge, River smiled to herself. It's about time those two made their relationship something more permanent than one of convenience. I would have assumed my stuffy da gege would have insisted on something formal before getting involved, but then again, he's changed nearly as much as I have over the last year. Maybe more.

"You smiling at something specific?" Oriole asked, running over all the systems readouts prior to takeoff.

River nodded. "Certainly."

"Gonna share?"

"Not mine to share," River replied. "Though I'm sure we will all know soon enough."

"Fair enough," Oriole said, then turned the whole of her attention to the vessel she was entrusted to keep in the air.

One of the reasons River liked Oriole was that the older woman seemed to take things like her reading ability in stride. However, since she couldn't clearly read much of Oriole beyond emotions, she wasn't altogether sure why that was the case. As the pilot pulled Serenity out of atmo, River considered her options and came to the conclusion that there was nothing to be gained by wondering. "May I ask a personal question?" she asked, once Serenity was in the black.

"Sure thing. Can always ask. Can't promise I'll always answer, but I promise I won't be offended by the questions themselves."

"Even if they don't say as much, I know that most people – even Simon – are initially uncomfortable with my… abilities."

Oriole smiled and set the autopilot. "And you're wondering why I'm not, right?"

River nodded. "You are an enigma to me. Everyone else I meet tries to keep their thoughts and emotions private, but the harder they try, the more I sense. You, though… You only give off the faintest hints of what you're thinking or feeling. If it weren't for the fact that I received absolutely no indication that you posed a threat to us, I would have advised the captain to offer the job to someone else."

Oriole scooted down in the chair and perched her heels on the edge of the control panel. "You're not the first reader I've met, River." At the words, River's curiosity ramped up by an order of magnitude and it showed on her face. Oriole closed her eyes and took a few breaths and suddenly her presence was more there than it had been just a moment earlier. River still couldn't sense actual thoughts, but she could now clearly read truth versus falsehood and the older woman's emotions much more clearly. "You remember me commenting that I have eight brothers?"

River nodded. "I don't think I believe that they're all bigger than Jayne, though."

Oriole chuckled. "Yeah, I know it's hard to believe, but all my big brothers are just that – big. Daddy's that way, too, though I take after Momma. Me and Wren." There was a complicated twist of emotion flavoring the name; sadness and happiness and bitterness and something akin to loyalty, all wrapped in a coating of want. "I should've said I have seven brothers. My xiao didi, Wren, he was the 'runt' of the family. If he could have walked, I don't think he would have been much taller than you. He passed, about ten years ago. Was a blessing, or so the preacher back home said. Wren had always been sickly. Small and weak."

"But only in body," River said.

Oriole nodded. "True enough. He was brilliant and read people like you do. Nobody else believed me, though. They didn't take the time to figure him out. Whatever it was that was wrong with his body affected his thinking. He had what I've found out since is called aphasia, coupled up with this other thing called synesthesia."

"He had difficulty translating thoughts into language and his senses brought him mixed signals," River said.

Oriole nodded again. "That they did. Even when he was speaking plainly, nobody thought he was because he'd be on about tasting colors or hearing scents. With Momma busy taking care of the rest of us, I was the only one who had the time to figure out what Wren meant. It helped that he could read people. He did it enough that it wound up pretty easy for him to figure out how to send thoughts to me. He couldn't send to anyone else, though – didn't know anyone else well enough. But we ran into a sticky situation when I was fourteen."

"What sort of sticky situation?" River asked. She was enjoying hearing about someone with whom she shared so much in common. The emotions Oriole felt were simply icing on a well-told tale.

"I got me a beau is what happened," light embarrassment tinged the statement, though it was laced thickly with lately-acquired amusement. "I didn't realize how badly I was affecting Wren until he, well 'walked' isn't the right word, but it'll do I suppose. Until he walked in on me and Xander Haliwell two buttons away from giving each other our virginity. He rolled in on his chair and managed to get out a sentence that was very clear, even to Xander. He said, 'Keep going, just want to see what the fuss is about'." Oriole let out a nostalgic chuckle. "I was mortified, and Xander ran so fast I never saw him again. Helluva wake-up call, though."

River echoed the pilot's laugh. "I can imagine."

"Anyway," Oriole gave a small shrug. "After I cooled down some, he managed to get across what my hormones were doing to his twelve year old self. We spent the better part of a year figuring out how to either turn off his reading ability – which didn't work at all – or for me to quit 'broadcasting' my every want and need and thought in his direction. We didn't quite get it perfected, but we came up with something that worked. Over the next couple of years, it just got to be second-nature. After he died, though, I didn't think I'd ever have need of it again."

"Then you came to Serenity."

Oriole shook her head. "Nope. I left for flight school. One of the very first classes is on meditation and ordering your thoughts. Pilots get into some of the most stressful situations in the 'verse. We need to be able to set aside panic in order to do our jobs properly. Turns out that what I'd been doing with Wren was a pretty good foundation for it. The meditation techniques came easily to me and I kept on with the practice. Though I favor tai-chi over just sitting and staring at my belly-button."

River nodded thoughtfully. Tai-chi fit the contained energy of the blonde in a way that less active meditation simply couldn't. "Do you practice every day or just when something is bothering you?"

"Every morning," Oriole replied. "I brush my teeth, splash some water on my face, and do at least half an hour of forms."

"Would you be opposed to teaching me? I've been told I'm rather a fast learner, so it shouldn't take up much of your time."

Oriole laughed outright and her feet fell from the console. "Heavens, girl! Nothing out here but time."

"Is that a yes or a no?" River asked, her eyes narrowing at the pilot.

"That'd be a yes," Oriole clarified. "But I don't have enough room in my bunk for both of us. I'll wake you tomorrow morning, alright?"

"That will be acceptable," River confirmed.

"For now, though, you mind taking first watch? I've got dinner-duty."

Thinking of the boxes of real food Oriole had procured earlier that day had River's mouth watering. "Will you save me a plate?"

"Of course," the blonde replied, then left for the galley.

Simon managed to catch up with Kaylee as she was about to leave the engine room. "Hey," he said.

"Hey yourself." She smiled prettily back at him and what he'd planned to say just sort of… evaporated. When he didn't say anything, the smile took on an amused tinge and she asked, "Did you need somethin'?"

Simon reminded himself to breathe and held out his hand. Kaylee could see it was holding something, but couldn't make out what – his fingers were too close together. "In answer to your inquiry, milady," Simon said, gently mocking his own formal upbringing.

Kaylee reached for his upraised hand and Simon released a tiny bundle of silver chain. The chain was wrapped around a small oval pendant made of some sort of heavy synthetic. Encased within the clear plastic was a grain of rice with 'Simon Tam' all but typed on its side. Though she could recognize the quality was of a higher grade than the one she'd purchased from the vendor on Jiangyin, she couldn't help but like the old man's personal calligraphy more than the machine-print of Simon's. The tiny thought flashed through her brain so quickly that she didn't even really notice it, instead she beamed at Simon, recalling the significance of the tradition he'd explained to her. Kaylee quickly unwound the chain and slipped the pendant over her head. She noticed that Simon was already wearing the one she'd gotten for him.

His own smile brightened. "Now that we've all but posted a notice in the cortex that we're exclusive," he said, "I would like you to have this." He handed her a small paper-wrapped package.

"A present?" Kaylee's voice took on the high-pitched tone that indicated she was so excitedly happy that she simply couldn't contain herself.

"A token," Simon corrected and handed it to her.

Kaylee ripped it open and saw the bracelet he'd picked out. She stared at it for several long heartbeats – long enough for Simon to begin worrying, to tell the truth – before she erased all his doubts by flinging her arms around his neck and kissing him soundly.

Oriole walked into the kitchen to find Mal poking his nose into the pot she'd started about two hours earlier. If his hearing hadn't been temporarily blasted by her whistle, and if he weren't her still-new boss, she'd smack him with a ladle for the snooping. However, she figured she owed him an apology, so she let it slide. Instead, she sidled up next to him and took the lid out of his hand with a glare. "What is this?" he managed the question without yelling. Oriole hoped that meant his hearing was healing quicker than the doc had claimed it would. She really did feel sorta bad about that, after all. "It's pretty good."

"It's kabritu stoba," she replied, tasting the broth. It needed a dash more salt, so she added a pinch and stirred. Much better.

"What?"

Instead of repeating herself, she stepped over to the marker board on the fridge and wrote 'Kabritu Stoba = goat stew. My Daddy's favorite dish, when we could afford the goat.' She tapped Mal's shoulder after giving him a full minute to ponder her note. When he turned, she pointed to the stack of bowls and then to the table. Her meaning was clear.

Mal grabbed the dishes and set the table, idly wondering if that 'do what I'm telling you' expression was something that every woman was taught. It was certainly one of the few expressions that had followed him from his mother's kitchen all through his life. Once everyone's place was set with a bowl and spoon, he headed to the bridge. "Everything runnin' smooth?"

River looked up from her cortex-supplied hashi puzzle and nodded. Make sure my supper's saved. She sent the warning to Mal with a teasing overtone of 'or else' twisted through the words. Mal hit the intercom button, but River held up her hand to stop him. Though his earlier words had been managed at a reasonable volume, she wasn't about to risk any bits of the ship shorting out because of the captain's wonky hearing. "Supper's ready," she said, just loud enough that the microphone picked it up.

By the time Mal returned to the galley, the rest of the crew had assembled. Oriole was in the process of dishing up the stew she'd made. Kaylee and the doc were sitting closer together than was normal, Kaylee's hand toying with a new necklace. He peered a little closer at it, then looked at Simon. Though the medic wore his under his shirt, Mal'd been around the 'verse long enough to know his was probably a close match to Kaylee's. He patted Simon on the head. "Good boy," he said, taking care to try and keep his voice's volume at a regular level. He grabbed the pot of tea off the stove and filled a mug before settling in his chair at the table.

The only slightly-mocking praise caught Jayne's attention. "What's he on about?"

Kaylee held up her new necklace, but Simon answered. "We traded rice," he said, his tone clearly indicating that he thought Jayne had no idea what that meant.

Jayne merely smirked at him. "Thought most folk did that afore swappin' spit. 'Bout damn time, though. Good on ya, Kaylee." He toasted her with a mug of water.

"Am I the only one who didn't know about the rice?" Kaylee pouted.

"Wasn't a tradition on Newhall, either," Oriole replied. "I didn't find out about it until my last year of flight school, when I was about your age. So don't feel too badly about it." With that, conversation drifted as everyone tucked into their meals.

A/N2: I don't think I've ever had a multi-chapter fic like this pour forth so easily. It makes me wonder if I'm doing something wrong, or if it's simply a case of a muse that knows which buttons to push.

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