|
Logos Author: When River was deemed old enough to leave the small nursery that had never been redecorated from Simon's sojourn there, she got one of the rooms in the east wing, on the southern side, across the hall from Simon. She noted immediately that Simon had 128 more square feet of space than she did, and her father led her to the window when she complained. "Little room for a little girl," he said placatingly. "But look at the view we saved for such a big mind." It was one of the few times he ever praised her individually, instead of lumping her into a Simon-and-River collective. She took it to heart, and she spent time every day looking out her window. Osiris was a lush world, and from where the Tam estate sat on the highest hill in Capitol City, she could clearly see the New Nile as it wound through the city and eased out of view. She watched the boats for hours, and she saw how things were. She saw that there were men, men who built boats and sailed them with careful control, but who were always contained. Always confined. And she saw that there were boats, boats that tended to go where they were told to go but sometimes rebelled. Boats that sailed on the water just as much as much as in it, so that really, the freedom was theirs. And she saw the river, wild and untamed and dangerous, so dangerous, to underestimate. The river within its banks except for when it flooded and spilled over and went where it wished, day after day, answering to no one. From up on her hill, through her window, she saw the river lash out and draw men and boats to its murky bottom, and she wondered why her parents chose her name. If they knew something she did not. It scared her that they might. *** At the Academy it was always, "River, be a good girl and cooperate" and "River, don't fight us" and it was like they just didn't understand that she couldn't help it. She came from Osiris, where rivers were never dammed. When she realized that wasn't their goal, it was too late. She was not to be blocked and hindered; she was to be changed. No longer River, no longer free. And when she woke up she was in a box. Contained, and she had to get out before she had to admit that they'd won. Simon caught her and told her, "Mei mei, it's okay, we're safe," and as he led her to the infirmary she knew that they had won, in a way. She wasn't River, powerful and strong and in control. She was River, flooding and spilling over and drawing everyone deeper to drown. *** Simon had a story written on his surface about the war and a battle and everlasting serenity. Something like that; she couldn't make it all make sense. Just serenity bouncing through her head, so that she understood when she learned the ship's name: Serenity is forever. Serenity is what contains. Serenity is in control. She curled into the walls at night, pressed her forehead to Serenity's solid, vibrating power, dreamed of melting into the ship. When they put on the suits and crawled from Serenity's belly to hide, she wanted to let go and float away. She could do it, she knew; she could become the vessel and she could be something complete, something intact. Next best option to the little girl with the big mind who was so afraid. But Simon wouldn't let her go. He pulled her back inside and later he gave her more medicine, and she could no longer be sure that she was anything at all. So instead she talked things over with Serenity that night and they reached an agreement. Someday, they would be one. River would cease. It seemed like a good plan at the time. *** In the infirmary, things are precise. The beds, for example, are exactly six feet and five inches long and thirty inches across, and the one against the wall -- hers, she tends to think, though others have occupied the little space in the corner -- can be raised to a sitting angle of 50.6 degrees. She hates it. She hates being able to calculate the exact heat energy generated by the slide of Simon's needle into her arm, the friction of metal against a finite number of cells. The number is a trifle of a thing; the meaning is so much more. The flood will never stop, no matter how much medicine Simon gives her. So why not play to form? She claws at his face in desperation and the needle breaks off. The syringe falls to the floor, as do three quick drops of blood that escape before Simon's hand flies up to cover the scratches. Then she calms, because Simon says, "River!" and he sighs. Acquiesces to who and what he brought into the cold sterility of the room and probably feels grateful that she hasn't thrown anything this time. She takes that from him, as well, and the small metal tray makes a satisfying noise when it strikes the wall and falls to the floor. It clatters and clangs, and she hears it as nothing more than a rush of water. *** The day before she left for the Academy, they took a family outing. "A nice trip down the river," her mother declared. And it was nice, until the weather turned and the water swelled with rain and rocked the boat. Her father laughed. "Something of a portent, perhaps?" She simply frowned and went to stand in the rain and stare at all the turmoil. Simon joined her, curled one warm arm around her shoulders. "You are my wonderful sister," he told her quietly. "I know you. Whatever happens, you'll do great." "Do you really believe that?" "I gave up on lying to you when you were four, River. But if I'm wrong... you can always count on me. Nothing will ever take you out of my life, okay?" The clouds had passed by the time the boat docked. Just the eye of the storm, but she didn't know that then. *** Something begins to break down. What she thought she was and what she thinks she wants to be: it's a jumble of rivers and boats and water and Simon and men and doctors and *control*. She attempts to impose logic, and she realizes that she will have to break her deal with Serenity. At the Academy, they tried to build a boat they could control, but they went about it wrong. They tried to build it out of water. But she dissipated and she slipped away from them. She can never be a boat. That must be left for Simon. *** She slips into his room while he sleeps, stares at the bandages that gleam pure white against his cheek and cover the damage she caused. All patched up, didn't sink this time. But next time... She worries that he doesn't know the danger. That he'll drown in her, and that she'll lose him forever. She has to make sure he understands that sometimes the river will betray even those who love it most. And it's warm against him when she crawls under the covers. He shifts against her, murmurs in his sleep, and she thinks, *he* is the boat. I will carry him along. She won't let him sink, ever. She won't. She'll carry him along and they will belong to each other, because the boat out of water has no purpose. And she'll start by rocking against him, breaking waves against solid wood, soaking him and filling him -- just the surfaces, no sinking -- and becoming one. And Simon wakes up, tries to wash ashore. "River," he says. His hands stroke her shoulders gently as he tries to push her away. "River, what are you --" "Like Serenity," she whispers. "Serenity and the 'verse. You and me." "River, you're not making any sen--" "Shhhhhhh," all drawn-out and hissed, slap of water -- wet, *wet* kiss -- at the edge of a bandage. And then his mouth, soft and slack and... and pliant. So close to giving up the game and letting her drag him along in the current. She pulls on his lip, tastes him sharp and clear on her tongue before he pushes again. "Wait, River, just wait." He sits up against the wall and scrubs his hands through his hair, rubs his eyes and looks pained. "Okay. We have a problem here, and while I didn't anticipate... *this*, we can work through it. You're... you're confused, and you need --" "You're wrong, Simon." Says it calm and clear and the look on his face at those words, those words he's heard her say so many times since she learned to talk, makes her swell even stronger. "Boat. My boat. Won't let you sink." "You won't let me... I don't know what you're --" "Simon, they had me, they were --" and it all comes together, sudden and swift and clear, and she could cry with relief "-- it was like they put me in a dam, and you broke it, you let me out and now I can move again. Can be River again." She passes her fingers across the bandages, slides a leg over his lap and *rocks* and he's there, hard for her, and this what has been coiling around the edges of her mind since she first looked out that window.. She uses her hand to make him gasp and she drinks it in, soft gulping kisses, and she murmurs, "Boat on the river, Simon. In the river. How it should be." "Oh, God, River..." He moans, lets her guide his hands, guide him. And she begins to flow again, at last. *end* Disclaimer: All recognizable characters belong to their owners/creators/copyright holders. This fan-written fiction intends no infringement on any copyrights. |
| .:home:. .:stories:. .:FAQ:. .:questions:. |