Life

She was tired. Tired of being pushed aside. Tired of being stepped on and forgotten. Excuses constantly made, her thoughts only mattering when they wanted them to. She was a tool to them. Useful only when they wanted her to be. A tool, a toy, and entertainment. Send her to brother when she lost her usefulness. Send her to the needles that tore flesh and scratched souls. She wanted to run, but then they'd find her again. Little difference to the hands of blue. She was just a tool to them too.

None treated her like she was flesh, like she felt sting from the needles and words. She was just iron and electricity. No heart, no mind, just a doll that was broken and needed fixing. Could he fix her? No, she knew he really couldn't. Can't fix something that wasn't tangible. Can't fix a broken soul.

They looked at her like she wasn't real. They couldn't understand her words, couldn't feel her pain. She couldn't be real to them. She scared them and assured them, made them feel better. They weren't her, they were better off than her. She didn't want to be touched with needles today, or with kid gloves. She wasn't a child, wasn't a doll, wasn't a tool, she was just her. She was River. She was just so tired.

"Can't have you lying on the catwalk here, little one," Captain's voice informed. "Likely for you to get stepped on an' I know that your brother would find that a mighty inconvenience."

"Doesn't matter," she murmured. "Not made of flesh and blood, just metal and wire. Oil in the veins."

"...Right. Don't rightly know what your sayin', girl. But it was nice chattin' with ya," he speaks. He doesn't know what to say to her. Doesn't understand her words. Boots make noise as they vanished. Steady rhythm, like life.

Simon comes, thinking of needles and liquids of reds and yellow. Panic hits her chest like a falling weight and she is on her feet, fleeing to anyplace that he can't find her. First the vents, but doesn't stay long. Shadows hold her close, like a warm embrace, but they aren't warm. Next, she moved from room to room, knowing only one that he will never search.

She slides down the ladder. The lock easy to decode, just numbers. He's not here, he's in the hanger, making it a perfect place. She slides beneath the bed, her body slipping into the space, with room to breathe. Tools and dolls don't breathe, but they seem to forget. She waits for him to lose the thoughts of needles and colors. She waits too long, for soon she's asleep. Tools and dolls don't sleep, but River does. She even dreams. Sound wakes her, loud and steady, like life. She is still as a shadow.

"Gorram boy, can' fer once leave the girl alone. Seemed fine today, didn' even bother me, doesn' need no more 'medications'. Just usin' her like some sort 'a guinea pig," his voice growls.

"What you expectin'? He don't rightly know what she needs to get better," sunshine voice placates. She loves Kaylee, a brightness in the dark, a sister she wished she had.

"Doc ain' never gonna fix 'er. Sooner he figures this, better fer us all. Better fer her," he says. She's shocked. She didn't think he saw her other than an annoyance. A tool.

"He's got hope for her. Gave up all he knew to save her, hope's all he's got now."

She was payment to him, reward for playing the white knight. Not fair, his armor was tarnished. She waited, her ears wanting to hear more.

"Where you think she ran off to?" she asks, curious.

"Don' know, girl's like a cat. Only shows when she wants ya ta see 'er," he answered. "Prolly show up at chow, actin' like she ain't never disappeared."

"Prolly will," her voice sighs before her boots thud away. Life.

His boots move, and weight falls on the bed above her. She waits.

"Come on outta there, girl. Ain't gonna hand ya over to yer brother," his voice says.

She slides out from beneath the space and faces him. "I didn't want the needles."

He nods briefly as he turns to his magazine. "Figures."

She stands still, waiting for something. She doesn't really know what she waits for, but she's still waiting. "Am I tool?" she asks.

He looks up with a brow raised. "What?"

"Am I steel or flesh? Is there blood or oil in my veins? Can't tell. World screams at me to know, but I don't," she begins to cry. "I don't know."

He seems not to know what to do, hesitates before taking her into strong arms and letting her curl into his lap, her head tucked under his chin. "Hush, now. You ain't a tool. Too soft to be steel. Smell too nice to be made of oil."

"Soft and nice. Flesh and blood. Not a tool, not a doll, just River."

"'S' right. Yer River."

"I'm broken, he can't fix me though. Jagged pieces tied with old thread. Mirror is broken, can't be made whole again. The jagged pieces cut, but I didn't make them!" she protests as tears continue to fall down her cheeks.

He looks her in the eyes, soft brown looking into her wet black. Large, gentle hands comb through her hair as he searches for words. So many words. "Doc's really got you frazzled, huh?"

She nodded. "Needles tear flesh and colors mix with blood. Can't make it whole again. Always fractured, broken. Never whole. Pieces are missing. Lost in the carpet to pierce the flesh when no one's looking."

"Didn't really catch all of that, crazy girl."

"No one does. No one hears. I talk and it gets torn and scrambled. Too many words. They fly like broken glass. Tearing up my tongue to ribbons. I talk and shards come out, mixed with the words that I mean," she explained.

He sighed then and pulled her head back to his chest. "Alright, girl. I think I get it now. Not much, mind you. But I think I get the jist."

She smiled slightly at that, her ear pressed over his heart. Steady, strong beat. Life, like the sounds of Captain's boots. Her eyes close and she feels safe to dream here.

~*~*~*~

She feels it burn her flesh. Boiling her blood and frying her hair. She tears at it all, but can't reach it to stop. She screams and beats at the flames that she can't see, but feels. Her eyes go black and she sees nothing, but she hears it all.

"Liou coe shway duh biao-tze huh hoe-tze fuh ur-tze! What the hell is goin' on here?" Captain's voice bellows.

"Tyen shuh duh! She jus' started screamin' an' clawin' at herself!" his voice shouts back.

"Kaylee, get the gorram doctor," Captain orders.

Boots beat quickly away but the burning won't stop. She thrashes against the arms that hold her arms to the cold cargo-bay floor. "Huh choo-shang tza-jiao duh tzang-huo! Tah mah de! Hwoon dhan!" she spouts as she lashes out.

"Where in the gorram hell did she learn all that?" Captain's voice asks in shock.

"Didn' even know she could say things like that," he mutters.

"Did you teach her that?" Captain accuses.

"What? Are you kiddin' me? Why the hell would I teach her that?"

"Dunno, Jayne. Why would you?"

"Gorram it, Mal, I didn' teach her to say those things!" he argues.

"Ching-wah tsao duh liou mahng! Gou tsao de niao se dub doo gway!" she screams as she kicks into the air, her leg impacting with the man above her.

"Wu de tyen ah! Right in mah boys!" he shouts as the weight fall off of her and she's free to beat at the flames again.

"Gorram it," Captain growls as hands hold her down again, legs pinning her legs down. "Where the hell is the doc!"

"It burns," she whispers. "I can't see and it burns."

"Wuo de ma, the drugs. Jayne get the hwoon dahn doctor!" Captain's voice orders darkly.

A groan sounds followed by uneven boot steps. She begins to shiver as her muscles tire in his arms tears are falling freely from her unseeing eyes as she counts his heartbeats.

"It's gonna be alright, lil' one. Your brother will be here soon. Jus' hold on," Captain's voice promises softly.

"He used the wrong color. Fire ants under my skin. They turned the light out. Make my blood boil. I feel so tired."

His grip tightens on her wrists as his legs move off and she's lifted against his chest. "No sleepin' right now, bao-bei. Wait for Simon to get here."

She nods, her body relaxing into his, his heartbeat steady and fast against her ear. Her eyes look out, but see nothing. "Bad thread, can't hold the pieces together. Frayed and burning. Just melts away and scorches the pieces."

Rapid footfalls, it's Simon. "Mei-mei! River, are you alright?"

"No, she ain't ,doc," Captain growls. "Says she can't see. That she has fire ants under her skin."

"She's had a bad reaction to the latest medication," Simon stated.

"No, really? Couldn't rightly tell from the fit she's just had," Jayne's voice drips with sarcasm.

Simon ignores and a needle tears and coolness enters her veins. She usually writhes and screams from the pierce, but it doesn't hurt as much when she's held by Captain. She's tired, but she doesn't want him to let her go. She clutches to his arm tightly and buries her face in his chest. His heart slows to a normal beat and she sighs softly against his shirt that smells of the ship, sweat, and something that is his. Home, like the ship she's inside right now. She's safe with him from the fire and the dark.

~*~*~*~

She was so quiet, like a ghost that floats about the ship. Inara is sitting alone in the mess, her eyes faraway. She slips into the chair beside her and lays her head on her shoulder. She is thinking of the Captain, of how his words cut her to pieces, but she can't show.

"Boot in his mouth," she states.

Inara smiles, somehow knowing what she's saying for once. "So deep that he needs it surgically removed."

"Simon could do it," she said casually. "He's getting good at removing."

Inara's arm moves and she's held close. Perfume, false and natural, covers her. She is warm and holds her gently. Her older sister, a refuge from all the men. She laughs and nods. "I'm sure Simon could."

"No, not really. He won't see it."

"Maybe he will. If only Mal could."

"He does, just can't see past it," she answered.

Inara laughs again as she looks into her eyes. "Would you like some tea?"

River sits up and nods. "Leaves crushed into water tell the future."

Inara doesn't comment, only pours the liquid into the cracked cup and hands it to her. "Careful, it's hot."
She nods as she gently sips. Shepard comes in, the book of lies in his hands as he approaches them at the table. "Ladies. May I join you?"

Inara nods while River sips at her tea. The Companion pours him a cup and slides it to him from across the table. "Please, do. We were just talking about the captain."

"His boot is in his mouth," River adds.

Shepard Book chuckles and shakes his head. "I see. Whatever shall we do to remove it?"

"Not by hand, in too deep," River answers. "Simon can't see it to remove. Too occupied by threads and thoughts. Kaylee knows machines, not mouths. Jayne has his own to worry about."

He chuckled again and smiles to her. "I suppose then that it is up to us."

"A difficult task, indeed," Inara muttered. "Seeing as his head is jammed so far up his-"

"River!" The Captain's voice bellows as he enters the mess.

River tilts her head to the right as she sips her tea again. "How does he see?"

Inara snickers and covers her mouth as the Shepard focuses on his tea. The Captain is merely confused for a moment before he remembers that he's frustrated. "River, I need a few words with you."

"Words can't be few, only many. One word can hold more power than many. Few can be cold and others heated. Boiling blood and cracking stone. How many words?" she asked.

He's confused again before he shakes his head. "Not many, just enough for you to tell me what the gorram hell you did to the lock on mine and Jayne's doors?"

"Numbers, infinite combinations. Switch the numbers, twist them inside out, they're like clay," she answered. "Malleable and messy."

"I have no idea as to what you just said," he muttered.

"Mirrors," she stated before turning back to her tea.

The captain rolled his eyes and threw his hands up before stalking out. "Don't know why I even asked."

~*~*~*~

There is blood. Blood on her hands, in her hair, on her face, and on her dress. It paints the walls and fills the air with its scent. It pools beneath her and drips from where she freed it. The knife has fallen away, and now lies in the puddle it created. Maybe if it goes away, if she can get new blood, she’ll be better. Maybe they’ll see her as River then.

“Wu de tyen ah,” she hears someone gasp. “River!”

“What’s going on? Wuo de ma,” another voice.

“Kaylee, get the doctor and the captain,” the first voice orders.

There are boot steps, hurried like her heartbeat with her thinned blood. Wash appears before her eyes then, he’s scared and it trying to stop the blood. The towel’s turned red, and he’s still scared. She feels cold, like fingers of ice are running along her skin and her vision blurs for a moment before focusing again.

Boot steps come again and Simon is there. He’s just as scared as Wash. “River, what did you do?” he asks.

“I had to get it out. If I got rid of it, maybe I’ll get better,” she offers weakly as she feels warmth at her back. She turns slightly and the captain is there, his face is placid but his eyes are wide and frightened. “If I get rid of it, maybe it will stop hurting.”

She falls back and he catches her, like he always does. His arms are wrapped around her. “Not the right way to do this, little one.”

“I’m cold,” she whispers, her body growing weaker by the moment.

More foot falls and she hears a gasp. Glassy brown eyes lift to see him standing like his statue in the mudder’s town. She smiles to him weakly and tries to lift a hand to wave, but it feels to heavy. “Now I’m wearing red,” she says to him.

He’s silent as the Captain lifts her up and carries her to the infirmary, Simon at his heels. They pass him and she reaches out, grasping his hand weakly in hers. “I proved that I have blood, it’s all on the floor,” she murmurs to him before the blackness takes her.

He remained standing there for what felt like an eternity, his eyes fixed on the blood on his hand, her blood. Then they moved to where a small puddle of it lay, Kaylee weeping as she tries to clean it. He moves then, his legs heavy as he places a hand on her shoulder.

“I’ll clean it,” he heard himself say.

She’s going to drive him more insane than she is. Going to kill him by scaring him with her actions. The blood cleans easily, soaking into the rag as well as the knees on his pants. Soon, the floor just looks a bit rusted, the color of her blood reddening the metal of the floor only slightly. His lower legs look like he’d been wading through a river of blood and his hands are stained.

He laughs somewhat hysterically at his thoughts. A river of blood, the blood of River. He really is going nuts. He sits back on his heels and passes a hand over his face, not knowing that he’s wiped some of it onto his brow and into his hair. He sighs desperately and looks to the floor, his eyes catching upon the knife that sliced so easily past her flesh and released her blood into the air.

A shaking hand lifts it and he stares at it. It looks like the knife she used to cut him. Looks like the knife that the Shepard used to slice bread last night. Looks like the knife his momma used to cut meat with for the evening meal. Another ragged sigh escapes and he can feel someone’s eyes on him.

His face lifts and he locks gazes with Mal. His shirt is stained, and there’s something almost desperate in his eyes. They both had seen a lot in their lives, had seen a lot of blood, had their hands stained with most of it. There was something about what River did that scared them, though. Something about seeing the small broken girl sitting in a pool of her own blood, her wrists dripping as she stared out with those glassy eyes that held so much pain and innocence. To feel the waves of frustration and desperation radiating off of her.

“She gonna be alright?” his voice sounds like it doesn’t belong to him. He never sounded like that, his voice trembling.

Captain nods and enters the room as he stands. “Doc’s gettin' blood in her now. Sewed her up right, she didn' cut too deep."

"Deep 'nough."

Mal passed a shaking hand through his hair and let loose a deep breath. "Don' know what's wrong with me?"

"I know what you mean," Jayne agreed. "Haven't felt like this since I was a rookie."

Zoe entered the room, a question in her gaze. "Captain?"

"She's gonna be alright," he answered.

"You and Jayne should get washed and change. You're both covered in it," she said.

Mal and Jayne nodded and left the room in a daze, both moving mechanically as they went through the motions of cleaning up. It was when they saw their reflections in their mirrors that the true magnitude hit them. They were wearing HER blood. Blood she shed herself in a desperate act to make herself better. To make herself seem real.

~*~*~

* I proved I have blood. It's on the floor.*

Jayne couldn't look at her without hearing her words. She was asleep in the infirmary, her chest rising and falling with every breath. She seemed so small to him now. So fragile.

* I proved I have blood. It's on the floor.*

She had been trying to prove that she was alive to herself and the crew. She tried to prove it by cutting into her veins and freeing the blood rushing beneath her skin. Cut her, now bandaged, wrists and had sat there in a pool of her blood staring at it with wonder.

"Jayne?" Mal's voice called from the doorway.

The mercenary looked to the captain, a haunted look in his gaze. Mal understood. He never wanted to see anything like that again. Never wanted to see her tiny form sitting in a growing puddle of crimson again. She looks pale in the infirmary, like the dead. For a moment he feels a bit of panic and then its quelled as her chest rises again with breath.

"Never thought I'd be scared fer her," Jayne's voice breaks his thoughts.

"She does seem to grow on ya," Mal commented. "'Fore you know it, she's in yer thoughts an' she's important to ya."

"Sometimes I forget," Simon's voice startled the two men suddenly as he appeared near the doorway to the small sickbay, "how truly fragile she is. I forget sometimes that she feels. It makes it easier to sometimes treat her like a patient instead of my little sister. It's wrong, and now I can see how wrong it is to be so cut off from her."

Jayne was silent, his mind fixating on what she said. On what she had asked him once, on the blood that had been on the floor.

Simon looked to the taller man curiously. "She said something to you before she passed out. What was it?"

* I proved I have blood. It's on the floor.*

Jayne's expression grew closed and he looked away. "She didn' say nothin'."

"Yes she did," Mal argued. "I didn't hear it, but I know she said somethin'."

Jayne swallowed visibly. Maybe if he said the words aloud they would leave him alone. They would go away. "She said. 'I proved I have blood. It's on the floor.' That's all she said."

Mal's expression grew disturbed as he turned to the doctor. "What in the diyu was she thinkin'? Why would she carve herself up like that?"

Simon shook his head, the look on his face decidedly sick. "I don't know. She's never done anything like this. There's no reason she would do that."

"Well, she is feng le, reason don't seem much part of it," Mal offered.

Jayne, whom had been decidedly quiet looked to the two men, the answer in his eyes. "I think ah might know."

Mal raised a brow and Simon seemed skeptical. "You?" Simon asked. "You think you know the answer as to why my disturbed sister opened her veins and bled herself?"

"Please, do share, Jayne," Mal urged.

Jayne scowled at the pair of them. "I ain't gonna share nothin' if ya'll are gonna be all judgmental."

"It's just hard to believe that you can possibly know the reason," Simon explained.

"Well, it's jus' a thought. Don't mean I know nothin'. Might help, though," Jayne grumbled.

"Why are you so keen on helpin' her Jayne?" Mal asked. "'Fore today I ain't seen nothin' from you that resembles an ounce of care for the girl."

Jayne rolled his eyes. "Never said I cared, jus' said that I might know why she went an' cut herself up is all."

"Then, please do share, Jayne," Mal invited again.

Jayne growled low as he took a seat on one of the couches and leaned his arms on his knees. "While back, maybe a month or so ago, I found her hidin' under my bunk. Said she was hidin' from the doc here somethin' 'bout the meds he was givin' her an' how it wasn' helpin' her. Don' rightly know why she chose to hide in my bunk, or why she had the urge to tell me all this."

"I am just as confounded as you, Jayne," Mal agreed.

"I can see why she hid there, I would never look for her in Jayne's quarters. What does this have to do with what happened in the dining room?" Simon asked.

"I'm gettin' to that," Jayne snapped. "She was quiet for a bit, I almost thought she had scampered off. Then she starts cryin', askin' me if she were made of steel or flesh, if she had blood or oil in her veins. I didn' rightly know what to say. Then, 'fore I know it, she's sittin' in my lap and weepin' into my shirt. She asked me if she was human or a doll. Didn' understand it at the time."

"We do kinda hold her at arms length," Mal sighed.

"I'm a fool," Simon muttered. "I should have seen this, should have known that she couldn't get well if she was cut off from everyone."

"We're all at fault here doc," Mal corrected. "We all been avoidin' her. Girls try, try their best, same as Shepard. Rest of us, don't rightly know how to act. We push her away, talk 'round her. Not right, not what we should've done. Maybe if we-"

"Maybes are a dime a dozen," Inara's voice interrupted. "Same as should haves, or could haves. They're unable to be substantial enough to do anything to help."

"You got any suggestions?" Mal growled lowly.

Inara nodded. "Stop feeling sorry for yourselves. You aren't the broken young woman lying in that room, who thought she could stop the pain and voices by bleeding herself out on the floor. Change the way you act around her, stop treating her like she's a part of the scenery or like she's made of glass," the Companion said stiffly before she turned heel and started for her shuttle, leaving the three men to ponder both her words and the pale girl lying in the infirmary.

~*~*~*~

The kitchen was lit enough only for someone to tell where they were vaguely going. Mal sat alone, his eyes trained on that tarnished spot on the floor.

"Not your fault," a soft voice broke through his thoughts.

His head snapped up, his eyes locking on those of River Tam. She appeared a ghost dressed in a simple, white night-dress, her pale skin practically glowing in the limited light. Quickly he looked away, only to zero in on the bandages that wrapped around her wrists, the whiteness stained with dark red.

She was kneeling in front of him sooner than he thought. "Never yours."

He clenched his jaw and swallowed visibly. "Aren't you 'supposed to be in the med bay?"

"Woke up in white. Cold and dark. Wasn't dead, but in the morgue."

A puzzled look crossed his face. "Nearly was," his voice didn't sound like his. So low and dark as his mind flashed to earlier.

She smiled. "Had to show you. Not a doll. Have girl parts. Flesh and blood, not water and smoke," she explained as she took his hand in hers and placed it on her chest. He tensed for a moment, but she held him fast. "Heart beats. Life."

He stared at the small girl in slight wonder. "You're quite the marvel."

She smiled to him again and stood, only to crawl into his lap and lay her head against his chest. "Heart beats... like footsteps. Life," she muttered as she slipped into a deep sleep.

Mal didn't move, not really possessing the need or desire to move her, and sighed as he made himself comfortable on the couch and leaned back, letting his weary eyes drift closed as sleep claimed him too.

~*~*~*~