The Passenger Chapter 16
Oct. 1st, 2005 11:25 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
serafina20Okay. So, apparently, my Firely fic is going to be two books. Because, as you all know, 150 pages isn't enough for Serafina to tell a story.
Stupid brain.
The second time she woke up, she felt a lot more lucid. The dark cloud surrounding her head and heart had dissipated some. She was hungry for real food and didn't feel quite so much like crying or screaming if she didn't cry.
"How does your arm feel?" Simon asked after taking the thermometer from her mouth and recording her temperature in her file.
"A little better, I guess," she said a little doubtfully. She rubbed it, frowning. "Instead of being numb, it's like it just fell asleep and now it's waking up. All pins and needles."
"That's to be expected. And progress, of a sort." Simon smiled at her. "You heal quickly when you rest."
"Even when I don't, really. I was designed to."
A shadow passed over his face, but he didn't say anything. Instead, he unwrapped the bandages from her arm and neck, gloved hands gliding over the scared skin with a tenderness that he hadn't had before he'd known about her. Oh, yes, he'd always been gentle and professional, but now he was almost loving. Whether it was because he was grateful she held the key to finally getting his sister the help she needed, or because Camille was now irrevocably associated with his sister and thus deserving of the same devotion, she didn't know. All she knew was, as nice as if felt to be cared for, she hated to be reminded that she wasn't really a person anymore. She was just a tool the Alliance had created that was now being used by another.
Simon cleared his throat and placed his fingers in the palm of Camille's hand. "Can you feel my fingers?"
She nodded.
"Try to close your hand around them."
Camille bit her lip and tried to get her fingers to respond to her command. Her hand felt puffy and numb. When she curled her fingers even slightly, fire raked down her wrist, causing her to wince and gasp.
"Stop," Simon ordered when she continued to try and close her hand in spite of the pain.
She obeyed and waited for him to chastise her for pushing himself.
He didn't. "All right, try not to use it too much, especially if it's causing you pain. I'm going to take the stitches out of your neck. Lie back."
Camille pulled her feet onto the table and lay back on the bed. Before Simon went to work, he absently tugged her nightgown over her knees, again playing the big brother being concerned for her modesty that Camille wasn't sure she liked. Instead of dwelling on it, or even saying anything, she said, "You know, that device the Blue Hands shot into me don't make much sense."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean, why did it go up my arm? They shot me in the back. The fastest, easiest way to get to the monitory would have been just to climb straight up." She frowned. "And Trinity's arm wasn't messed up. Her shirt was torn up and cut open, but not her arm. You said that there were others who were attacked?"
Simon nodded.
"I saw one while I was sleeping. Hunter. He'd been tearing his back, too. But... it was different." She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to see what she'd seen while she was sleeping.
"They got me while I was running up the hatch," Hunter had said while they'd been in contact. "I tripped just a second before I heard the gun go off. Then I felt something hit me in the side. The captain yanked me to my feet, dragged me inside. After we took off, I felt this painful itch under my skin, halfway across my stomach. And, well. You know the rest."
She frowned. "They shot me and Hunter in the back. Same with Trinity, but it just walked right up her spine. Or next to her spine at any rate. Hunter tripped, so it didn't make it in his back. But what about me? They shot me in the back. I should have been like Trinity, but I wasn't. Why?"
There was a look in Simon's eyes. A gleam that was something like understanding. But all he said was, "I don't know."
Camille sat up, causing Simon to jab his scissors into her neck.
"Ayia!" Simon swore. He dropped the scissors and grabbed a piece of gauze. "You are such a brat!"
"So are you. You know something and you're lying to me. What do you know?"
"Nothing, Camille. Just calm down."
"Simon, you do realize you're lying to a reader, right?"
"So your mind's woken back up?" He sounded pleased. Cautiously, as if he wasn't sure if he should be or not, but really, what he wanted didn't matter because, fact was, River and Camille had been turned into readers and nothing was going to change that.
Camille wrinkled her nose and said, "Well. I'm not stupid at any rate, even if I can't read you right now. Exactly. Your mind may be closed, but you're face is an open book." She kicked him in the shin. "Tell me."
Simon sighed and dropped his hands to the table on either side of Camille. "Mal's been staring at that necklace you two stole. There's a chip in the middle and some scratching across the surface. The bullet or devices must have hit it."
"Yeah." Camille tucked her hair behind her ears. "It hit the necklace and couldn't break through the diamond. So it ricochet and missed its mark." She felt cold suddenly, and her stomach started a slow, queasy dance. "I could have killed you all."
"Don't be silly," Simon replied hollowly. "River would have stopped you. You said yourself that she's better trained."
"Stronger psychic," Camille corrected, shivering. She grabbed the blanket and wrapped it around her. "I'm the solider. And in practice. I don't know..."
"Camille." Simon's hands were on her shoulders now, squeezing gently. He pulled her into him and hugged her tightly. "It didn't happen. You're not dead. You're fine."
"Not fine. Never fine." She fisted his vest, pressing her face into his chest. "You smell good." Catlike, Camille rubbed her face against his chest. "Really good." Her legs hooked around his, pulling him into the bed.
Simon was stiff, holding her away from his body even as she pulled him closer. She mouthed at the buttons on his shirt, undoing them with her tongue and tasting bare skin once she reached it.
"Camille, you need to stop."
Her hands slid over his shoulder and her tongue dipped into the hollow of his throat. "Simon," she whispered. "You're so beautiful." She tilted her head back and pulled his head down.
Simon was straining now, pushing her away. "Please, Camille. Not me. I can't."
She shifted so she was on her knees now, kissing up his neck, not letting him go. "There's no one else." Despite herself, there were tears gathering behind her eyes. Her head ached from straining against the medicine-induced fog blocking her abilities and her body had taken over, acting on instinct to solve the problem.
"Mal," Simon gasped. And then, in a more horrified tone, "Mal. Mal, please, this isn't...Stop it, Camille!" He shoved her away so hard that she toppled backwards over the bed and fell to the other side.
"Pi hua!" Simon swore.
Camille tried to push herself up, but her arm was numb again. Startled by her sudden inability to use it, she fell back to the floor with a soft cry.
The deck reverberated underneath her and two black boots came to rest on either side of her body. "You're looking a mite ruffled, Doc," Mal's sardonic voice said above her. He bent over and lifted Camille easily into his arms. "Why don't you go fix yourself up all pretty again, 'fore someone gets the idea that you're less a doctor than a pi tiao ke."
"Mal..."
"Go."
Simon looked at Camille helplessly before following orders and leaving the infirmary.
"You don't need to be such wang ba dan, you know," Camille said as Mal set her on the bed.
He said nothing as he pulled the shades over all the windows. He moved in quick, decisive moments, almost breaking the blinds off when he pulled them down.
"Mal?" Her heart was pounding and she didn't like feeling closed off from the outside. She was about to slide off the bed when he turned back to her and walked to the bed. "What are you doing?" she asked.
Mal turned the monitors above her bed off, then, face set like stone, eyes as blue as the diamond they'd stolen and just as hard, started undoing the buttons on his shirt.
Camille swallowed and scooted away from him. "What are you doing?"
"I figured it was about time you and me got grindy together. Don't figure that's gonna be much of a problem with you, is it?" He pulled off his suspenders, then dropped his shirt to the floor.
"Why here?"
"From what I understand, this is purely a medical procedure, right? Gets you all comfy in your head and your body all workin' the right way. Makes you stop actin' like you're one step away from a padded cell and throwin' yourself at everyone like a bitch in heat. Ain't I right?"
"Qu di yu, Mal."
He threw his hands out, eyes wide. "What? Am I readin' this wrong? Why didn't you just say before what you was really after, woman? Maybe I wouldn't have been able to service you, but Inara woulda spread her legs or tian yin for you. But, cao, girl, you saved the ship, the least I can do is give you a ride, ain't it?"
Camille slid off the bed and went to him. Mal flinched, but she grabbed him and yanked him down into a kiss.
Mal wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her off the floor. His mouth was hot and demanding, practically attacking hers with a fierceness that took her breath away. Wrapping her legs around his waist, Camille did her best to hang onto him, clumsily lifting her numb arm around his neck as she arched into him.
Her back hit the bed. Mal draped himself on her, kissing down her neck. His hands rucked the nightgown up, and then his big, calloused hands slid up her thighs and cupped her buttocks.
"Mal," Camille moaned, undulating under him.
He whispered something against her neck and he pulled her against him tightly. He continued to whisper, his mouth damp on her skin, body shaking with need and anger.
And then, abruptly, he pulled away from her. "You should have told me," he said roughly. He picked his shirt off the floor. "Don't like being used." Without waiting for her to answer, he pulled his shirt on and left.
"Yeah, well, lian jie ju le bu," Camille said tonelessly to the empty air.
Pi hua: shit
pi tiao ke: trick
wang ba dan: bastard
Qu di yu: go to hell
tian yin: eat pussy
cao: fuck
lian jie ju le bu: join the club
* * *
The man had his own private little ship yard right on his own private little planet. And his own cadre of pretty little followers all line up around him. Doctors and a couple of Companions, and a buncha kids River and Camille's age all lookin' at them with big, eager eyes as the crew of Serenity descended the gangplank.
And in front of them all was the man himself. Garrison Pike.
Mal hated him on sight.
"Captain Reynolds," Pike said once they'd reached him. He held out his hand. "It's good to finally meet you."
"And yourself," Mal replied stiffly. He gripped Garrison hand hard.
"Thank you for taking care of my bian se long." He extracted his hand from Mal's grasp and clasped them both behind his back. "Bringing her back home and in tact means a lot."
"Yeah, well, you're welcome." He cleared his throat and added, "If you want to throw a little help our way in gratitude, that wouldn't go unappreciated. Got this necklace on my hands and I could use some help finding some place to sell it."
He'd hoped that, maybe, Garrison's cool demeanor would crack under his request, but the man was like a mirror. All cool and shiny calm like some Core-bred city boy who ain't never done an honest--or dishonest--days work in his life.
"Of course, Captain. I'll get you a list of contacts as soon as possible." And then, the man just stepped around him like he didn't exist. "Camille." His voice was suddenly soft, caring. Velvet.
Mal turned. Camille's eyes were full of tears, her body shaking. Her face was white and pale as she stepped into Garrison's arms and buried her face against his chest.
"Welcome home, xin ai. Welcome home."
End Book 1
I also think Tina Fey is totally hot.
Stupid brain.
The second time she woke up, she felt a lot more lucid. The dark cloud surrounding her head and heart had dissipated some. She was hungry for real food and didn't feel quite so much like crying or screaming if she didn't cry.
"How does your arm feel?" Simon asked after taking the thermometer from her mouth and recording her temperature in her file.
"A little better, I guess," she said a little doubtfully. She rubbed it, frowning. "Instead of being numb, it's like it just fell asleep and now it's waking up. All pins and needles."
"That's to be expected. And progress, of a sort." Simon smiled at her. "You heal quickly when you rest."
"Even when I don't, really. I was designed to."
A shadow passed over his face, but he didn't say anything. Instead, he unwrapped the bandages from her arm and neck, gloved hands gliding over the scared skin with a tenderness that he hadn't had before he'd known about her. Oh, yes, he'd always been gentle and professional, but now he was almost loving. Whether it was because he was grateful she held the key to finally getting his sister the help she needed, or because Camille was now irrevocably associated with his sister and thus deserving of the same devotion, she didn't know. All she knew was, as nice as if felt to be cared for, she hated to be reminded that she wasn't really a person anymore. She was just a tool the Alliance had created that was now being used by another.
Simon cleared his throat and placed his fingers in the palm of Camille's hand. "Can you feel my fingers?"
She nodded.
"Try to close your hand around them."
Camille bit her lip and tried to get her fingers to respond to her command. Her hand felt puffy and numb. When she curled her fingers even slightly, fire raked down her wrist, causing her to wince and gasp.
"Stop," Simon ordered when she continued to try and close her hand in spite of the pain.
She obeyed and waited for him to chastise her for pushing himself.
He didn't. "All right, try not to use it too much, especially if it's causing you pain. I'm going to take the stitches out of your neck. Lie back."
Camille pulled her feet onto the table and lay back on the bed. Before Simon went to work, he absently tugged her nightgown over her knees, again playing the big brother being concerned for her modesty that Camille wasn't sure she liked. Instead of dwelling on it, or even saying anything, she said, "You know, that device the Blue Hands shot into me don't make much sense."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean, why did it go up my arm? They shot me in the back. The fastest, easiest way to get to the monitory would have been just to climb straight up." She frowned. "And Trinity's arm wasn't messed up. Her shirt was torn up and cut open, but not her arm. You said that there were others who were attacked?"
Simon nodded.
"I saw one while I was sleeping. Hunter. He'd been tearing his back, too. But... it was different." She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to see what she'd seen while she was sleeping.
"They got me while I was running up the hatch," Hunter had said while they'd been in contact. "I tripped just a second before I heard the gun go off. Then I felt something hit me in the side. The captain yanked me to my feet, dragged me inside. After we took off, I felt this painful itch under my skin, halfway across my stomach. And, well. You know the rest."
She frowned. "They shot me and Hunter in the back. Same with Trinity, but it just walked right up her spine. Or next to her spine at any rate. Hunter tripped, so it didn't make it in his back. But what about me? They shot me in the back. I should have been like Trinity, but I wasn't. Why?"
There was a look in Simon's eyes. A gleam that was something like understanding. But all he said was, "I don't know."
Camille sat up, causing Simon to jab his scissors into her neck.
"Ayia!" Simon swore. He dropped the scissors and grabbed a piece of gauze. "You are such a brat!"
"So are you. You know something and you're lying to me. What do you know?"
"Nothing, Camille. Just calm down."
"Simon, you do realize you're lying to a reader, right?"
"So your mind's woken back up?" He sounded pleased. Cautiously, as if he wasn't sure if he should be or not, but really, what he wanted didn't matter because, fact was, River and Camille had been turned into readers and nothing was going to change that.
Camille wrinkled her nose and said, "Well. I'm not stupid at any rate, even if I can't read you right now. Exactly. Your mind may be closed, but you're face is an open book." She kicked him in the shin. "Tell me."
Simon sighed and dropped his hands to the table on either side of Camille. "Mal's been staring at that necklace you two stole. There's a chip in the middle and some scratching across the surface. The bullet or devices must have hit it."
"Yeah." Camille tucked her hair behind her ears. "It hit the necklace and couldn't break through the diamond. So it ricochet and missed its mark." She felt cold suddenly, and her stomach started a slow, queasy dance. "I could have killed you all."
"Don't be silly," Simon replied hollowly. "River would have stopped you. You said yourself that she's better trained."
"Stronger psychic," Camille corrected, shivering. She grabbed the blanket and wrapped it around her. "I'm the solider. And in practice. I don't know..."
"Camille." Simon's hands were on her shoulders now, squeezing gently. He pulled her into him and hugged her tightly. "It didn't happen. You're not dead. You're fine."
"Not fine. Never fine." She fisted his vest, pressing her face into his chest. "You smell good." Catlike, Camille rubbed her face against his chest. "Really good." Her legs hooked around his, pulling him into the bed.
Simon was stiff, holding her away from his body even as she pulled him closer. She mouthed at the buttons on his shirt, undoing them with her tongue and tasting bare skin once she reached it.
"Camille, you need to stop."
Her hands slid over his shoulder and her tongue dipped into the hollow of his throat. "Simon," she whispered. "You're so beautiful." She tilted her head back and pulled his head down.
Simon was straining now, pushing her away. "Please, Camille. Not me. I can't."
She shifted so she was on her knees now, kissing up his neck, not letting him go. "There's no one else." Despite herself, there were tears gathering behind her eyes. Her head ached from straining against the medicine-induced fog blocking her abilities and her body had taken over, acting on instinct to solve the problem.
"Mal," Simon gasped. And then, in a more horrified tone, "Mal. Mal, please, this isn't...Stop it, Camille!" He shoved her away so hard that she toppled backwards over the bed and fell to the other side.
"Pi hua!" Simon swore.
Camille tried to push herself up, but her arm was numb again. Startled by her sudden inability to use it, she fell back to the floor with a soft cry.
The deck reverberated underneath her and two black boots came to rest on either side of her body. "You're looking a mite ruffled, Doc," Mal's sardonic voice said above her. He bent over and lifted Camille easily into his arms. "Why don't you go fix yourself up all pretty again, 'fore someone gets the idea that you're less a doctor than a pi tiao ke."
"Mal..."
"Go."
Simon looked at Camille helplessly before following orders and leaving the infirmary.
"You don't need to be such wang ba dan, you know," Camille said as Mal set her on the bed.
He said nothing as he pulled the shades over all the windows. He moved in quick, decisive moments, almost breaking the blinds off when he pulled them down.
"Mal?" Her heart was pounding and she didn't like feeling closed off from the outside. She was about to slide off the bed when he turned back to her and walked to the bed. "What are you doing?" she asked.
Mal turned the monitors above her bed off, then, face set like stone, eyes as blue as the diamond they'd stolen and just as hard, started undoing the buttons on his shirt.
Camille swallowed and scooted away from him. "What are you doing?"
"I figured it was about time you and me got grindy together. Don't figure that's gonna be much of a problem with you, is it?" He pulled off his suspenders, then dropped his shirt to the floor.
"Why here?"
"From what I understand, this is purely a medical procedure, right? Gets you all comfy in your head and your body all workin' the right way. Makes you stop actin' like you're one step away from a padded cell and throwin' yourself at everyone like a bitch in heat. Ain't I right?"
"Qu di yu, Mal."
He threw his hands out, eyes wide. "What? Am I readin' this wrong? Why didn't you just say before what you was really after, woman? Maybe I wouldn't have been able to service you, but Inara woulda spread her legs or tian yin for you. But, cao, girl, you saved the ship, the least I can do is give you a ride, ain't it?"
Camille slid off the bed and went to him. Mal flinched, but she grabbed him and yanked him down into a kiss.
Mal wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her off the floor. His mouth was hot and demanding, practically attacking hers with a fierceness that took her breath away. Wrapping her legs around his waist, Camille did her best to hang onto him, clumsily lifting her numb arm around his neck as she arched into him.
Her back hit the bed. Mal draped himself on her, kissing down her neck. His hands rucked the nightgown up, and then his big, calloused hands slid up her thighs and cupped her buttocks.
"Mal," Camille moaned, undulating under him.
He whispered something against her neck and he pulled her against him tightly. He continued to whisper, his mouth damp on her skin, body shaking with need and anger.
And then, abruptly, he pulled away from her. "You should have told me," he said roughly. He picked his shirt off the floor. "Don't like being used." Without waiting for her to answer, he pulled his shirt on and left.
"Yeah, well, lian jie ju le bu," Camille said tonelessly to the empty air.
Pi hua: shit
pi tiao ke: trick
wang ba dan: bastard
Qu di yu: go to hell
tian yin: eat pussy
cao: fuck
lian jie ju le bu: join the club
* * *
The man had his own private little ship yard right on his own private little planet. And his own cadre of pretty little followers all line up around him. Doctors and a couple of Companions, and a buncha kids River and Camille's age all lookin' at them with big, eager eyes as the crew of Serenity descended the gangplank.
And in front of them all was the man himself. Garrison Pike.
Mal hated him on sight.
"Captain Reynolds," Pike said once they'd reached him. He held out his hand. "It's good to finally meet you."
"And yourself," Mal replied stiffly. He gripped Garrison hand hard.
"Thank you for taking care of my bian se long." He extracted his hand from Mal's grasp and clasped them both behind his back. "Bringing her back home and in tact means a lot."
"Yeah, well, you're welcome." He cleared his throat and added, "If you want to throw a little help our way in gratitude, that wouldn't go unappreciated. Got this necklace on my hands and I could use some help finding some place to sell it."
He'd hoped that, maybe, Garrison's cool demeanor would crack under his request, but the man was like a mirror. All cool and shiny calm like some Core-bred city boy who ain't never done an honest--or dishonest--days work in his life.
"Of course, Captain. I'll get you a list of contacts as soon as possible." And then, the man just stepped around him like he didn't exist. "Camille." His voice was suddenly soft, caring. Velvet.
Mal turned. Camille's eyes were full of tears, her body shaking. Her face was white and pale as she stepped into Garrison's arms and buried her face against his chest.
"Welcome home, xin ai. Welcome home."
End Book 1
I also think Tina Fey is totally hot.
