Disclaimer: I don't own Firefly, nor do I have any rights to the characters or settings included in the following story. The song "Little Earthquakes" belongs to Tori Amos and I claim absolutely no credit for it.

Concepts of Time

Chapter One: Complicated

Yellow bird flying
Get shot in the wing
good year for hunter
And Christmas parties
And I hate and I hate
And I hate and I hate
Elevator music

River's cabin was relatively bare. Apart from the bunk and the small wall shrine Mal hadn't bothered to remove, there was little to suggest the room was even inhabited, let alone that a bright, young, seventeen-year-old girl lived there. When he liberated her from the alliance, Simon had remembered to bring few clothes, but he had thought to bring the only material thing she really cared about: her treasure chest. It was a small carved jewelry box, though it no longer housed jewels. It was polished mahogany and had belonged to River's grandmother.

River had been closer to her than anyone except Simon. The old woman hadn't understood her, but she also never tried to. Grandmere had known how unique River was, and accepted it without any understanding.

The box didn't hold much. It was only about six inches square. Nobody would really find the things in it of much importance, but for River they meant the world. Indeed, they were the only part of the past she had left. Her favorite was a small dried sprig of agastache foeniculum... lavender. She loved the delicate scent and the way the dry, ridged stem felt in her hand. Other treasures surrounded the cloth-wrapped flower: a smooth river stone carved with her initials, a bit of silky blue cloth, and a shiny-smooth silver knife in a leather sheath.

Her first coherent day on Serenity, she had hidden it. Balancing delicately on the headboard edge of her bed, River had lifted out one of the ceiling tiles and stored her precious box safely in the dark opening provided. Only then, sure Serenity was protecting her only reminders of home, was she able to sleep.

Now, asleep below the hidden compartment, River tossed and turned in her sleep. Voices floated in and out of her mind as she ever so slowly crept back towards light and consciousness. She sat up and listened intently to apparently nothing. Was she the only one awake? Sometimes it was hard to tell. She could hear the other's dreams in much the same way she could sense their thoughts, the ideas and dialogues slipping in and out of her mind, floating ever-present at the edge of her strange sixth sense.

She cast her mind out, searching for anyone else who was awake. Here and there she got caught up in various dreams. Jayne was particularly hard to get out of, as he was involved in a rowdy brawl of a dream, full of fighting and voluptuous ladies in wisps of silk that could barely be considered clothing. River tugged at her hair absently and wrenched herself to the next room. Zoe and Wash were lying entwined, dreaming about each other. She fought the urge to stay and watch their dream, but decided regretfully that it would be rude.

There was Inara, dreaming of balls and a tall man with tousled hair and… River hurriedly moved on. She had no desire to see any more of that dream. Kaylee was rolling restlessly around in her hammock, smiling in her sleep. She caught a glimpse of strawberries, smiled and moved on. River didn't even bother checking in on Simon. He would be asleep, as he always was. He was such a good, proper boy, especially for someone on the lamb after kidnapping his kid sister. She was sure he was dreaming good, proper dreams about medicine and courtship. River sighed slightly. So predictable. She loved him more than anything, but sometimes…

Tiredly she reached out towards the last presence. She didn't know why she was even bothering. It wasn't like he would be…

Awake. He was awake. Or at least, he wasn't in his cabin. Excitedly she cast her mind over the rest of the ship. Where was he?

We danced in graveyards

With vampires till dawn

We laughed in the faces of kings

Never afraid to burn

And I hate and I hate

And I hate and I hate

Disintegration

Mal was pacing again. They hadn't had a job in weeks. Seemed like all he did these days was pace, considering there was nothing else to do. They had a little saved up, but it wasn't going to carry them much farther.

He needed to stop pacing. He needed to focus. This was important. Mal ran an impatient hand through his short brown hair and sighed. His travels about the ship had taken him to the balconies above the cargo bay. Leaning back against the railing, he gazed up at the ceiling of his beautiful boat. How he loved Serenity. He patted the railing in an almost tender motion.

A bang sounded from his right. Years of military service dictated his movements. He spun, pulling a gun from his side holster and training it on whoever made the noise.

It was River.

She looked at him calmly, a slight smile of her face as she looked at him. Mal grinned sheepishly at her and returned his gun to its holster. Never were his military habits so awkward as in times like this.

"Sorry. You startled me is all. Like to make a man twitchy, thinking he's the only one awake on a big boat like this." He smiled again, apologetically and she abruptly waved a hand at him.

"No apology required or accepted. Girl did the sneaking," she tilted her head to the side. "Like to make anyone twitchy", she said, lightly mimicking Mal. Suddenly her eyes grew serious. "But preoccupied now. A girl interrupts. What is causing so many difficulties so late-early?"

Mal sighed. "Nothing to worry your head about. You should get yourself to sleep."

"Don't need to. Sleep is unnecessary to the process. If Mal won't unburden himself to the girl, the girl could make him…" River trailed off, a slight laugh to her voice.

Is she… teasing me? Mal wondered. He'd never thought of River as the teasing type. She was crazy, yes, but still… "Fine. Don't go poking in my brain."

"Girl never pokes. Just prods, gently."

He smiled tiredly. "I'm just wondering on where our next job is coming from. Got to pay to keep Serenity afloat and since the location of said money isn't obvious, well, I'm not so sure where our next stop is." He fell silent, relieved, if somewhat taken aback by finding a sympathetic ear from the feng le girl.

River stared at the ground, pensively. She was barefoot, as usual on the ship. Her long, gauzy skirt swirled around her knees as she stared at the ground for a moment. Unsure what she was up to, Mal didn't interrupt her reverie.

Her head shot up and she looked at him quizzically, neck leaning slightly to the side, lending her the air of an inquisitive animal. "Why hasn't Mal called the contact?"

"What contact?" he asked, taken aback. "I called them all."

She pursed her lips. "Liar. Mal never called the others. The other ones. The ones he doesn't like. Foolish impetuous decisions based on pre-existing prejudice lead only to disaster." She shrugged at the aghast look on Mal's face. " 'Road to hell is paved with good intentions'" she quoted. "Silly philosophers. The road to hell is paved only with inaction and foolish caution."

"How…" Mal shook his head slowly, trying to get rid of the sensation that his brain was clogged with syrup. River always made him feel like he was a step behind. "How did you know about them? I haven't even suggested them to Zoe after what happened last time!"

River only laughed softly, eyes sparkling. "Mal should call. Existence on air is entirely impossible."

She watched him for a few more moments. On impulse she darted forward and, before Mal could even raise an arm to… stop her?... she had planted a quick kiss on his cheek. Pulling back, she looked him over with obvious satisfaction and managed to disappear as quickly as she'd come.

Mal stared after her, absently holding a finger to the mark on his cheek. Rubbing it absently, he leaned against the rail once more. He had a lot to think about.

Oh these little earthquakes
Here we go again
These little earthquakes
Doesn't take much to rip us into pieces

Once more in her secluded little room, the brown-haired girl reclined, her eyes closed but breathing still too irregular to suggest sleep. The whispery echoes of dreams drifted through her now far more relaxed mind, drawing her notice but not her concentration. What did draw her concentration was the tumult of confused and muddled thoughts coming from somewhere on the other side of the ship.

There was the consideration of the contacts he had been avoiding. That didn't particularly interest River. He would most likely take her advice, unless some other extraordinary piece of luck came their way in the next, oh, hour or so. But there was something else. Something odd flowing under the conscious thoughts, debates, and decisions. River hummed softly to herself. All would reveal itself. It always did.

And for the second time that night, she drifted off to sleep.

A/N. There's nothing I can possibly do or say to apologize sufficiently for the unvelievably long hiatus. School's been beating the crap out of me, but more than that I just lost a lot of ideas and perspective in this story. I welcome all your thrown objects, be they eggs, bricks, or whatnot. Next chapter forthcoming.