( continues...) agrees Mal, although he's inclined to believe the story, impossible thought it sounds. He's seen a number of impossible things since sailing these waters, and this would not be the strangest of them. And – she knew about the kraken. There's something uncanny about her, and no mistake. “So then what, Doctor Tam?”

“The Lady...” he swallows. “One of the Ladies came to us, and I thought she was going to take River then and there. But instead she gave me the compass. Said that I'd earned it, and that they would be taking someone else for the tithe.” He bites his lip. “I think – I'm fairly sure she meant my father, but I didn't stay to find out. I packed as quickly as I could, and I took all the gold and coin and plate I could find.” He sticks his chin out. “It's River's. She earned it, not my father. And then we came here. Because River – River still is not well. And my heart's desire is to find someone who can bring her back to what she was – or as close as may be. Someone who can help me fix her. And I believe that there is someone out here who can do it – I've heard stories, when I was younger, but I never gave them credit. A witch, living in the swamps somewhere – Tia Dalma, I think her name is?”

Mal shudders. “That's – that's not a wise name to speak out loud, when you're at sea,” he says, with a wince. The Doctor blinks.

“Well – I think she can help me. And so that's my story, in full. This is my sister, and she is – not well. Not quite right. And where we're going – well, we're going to find her a cure.”

Mal studies the young Doctor for a long moment in silence. “So would I be correct in thinking that all your fine words about “half now, half afterwards” were just so much faradiddle to talk me into setting sail with you and your suspiciously large trunk?”

Tam hangs his head. “Well – well, yes, in fact. Yes. But it's still a very respectable sum, and all of it's yours, if you'll just take us where the compass leads.”

“And all of it would still be mine if I just tossed you both overboard right now,” counters Mal.

“Cap'n! He's just joshing with you, Doctor! He wouldn't do something so downright mean and ornery. Would you, Cap'n?”

“Master Frye, your opinion of my generosity of spirit is flattering, but I'm afraid I don't merit such a high estimation. I'd toss him to the sharks in an instant if I thought he posed a threat to my ship or her crew.”

“Oh,” says Master Frye. “But – he don't! Do you, Doctor?”

Tam looks over at River, and then back at Mal. “It isn't my intention to bring any trouble down on your head, Captain,” he says, uncertainly.

“Ah, but there's a gap between intention and results, isn't there, my friend?” Mal fixes his gaze upon the young Doctor, as if he hopes to somehow plumb the depths of his soul. “You want to take us into deep waters, unknown waters, and you want to take us to tangle with Tia Dalma. That, Dr Tam, is trouble with a capital T.”

“Oh,” says the Doctor, looking suddenly very young. “I – I see. I hadn't really thought of that.”

“Indeed.” Mal shakes his head. “Jayne, throw him overboard.”

“Captain!”

“Cap'n', don't joke like that!”

“Cap'n, I'm sure you didn't mean...”

“Now, just a minute, can we talk about this before we start murdering people for no good reason?”

”No!” yells Mal, over the clamour of voices in the little cabin. “This is not a democracy!”

“Actually, Cap'n, it kind of is,” points out Master Frye, sounding apologetic but quite firm. “We voted for you, same as we voted for Zoe here. Democratic-like.”

“Well, yes, that's true, but – look, Zoe agrees with me, don't you?”

“Not sure that I do, Cap'n,” says Zoe, and the Sailing Master gives her hand a squeeze.

“Seems to me we could use a Ship's Doctor, and if little River here is as clever as he says, she might be useful to have aboard. You are looking for a new First Mate.”

“Oh, don't even – what is this, a rebellion? A mutiny? Are you mutinying on me, Master Frye?”

“No, Cap'n. 'Course not. I'm just refusing to do what you say.”

“Mister (continued...)

( continues...) Book?”

The Boatswain rubs his chin thoughtfully. “I think he seems like a brave, if somewhat foolhardy, young man. And he certainly has skills that would be most useful on board 'Serenity'. I think we should take a vote on it.”

“Jayne?”

“Oh, I'm with you, Cap'n. Let's throw him to the sharks. Seems a pity to waste the girl, though.”

“...somehow that was less reassuring than it might have been, Jayne. I find myself suddenly not wanting to be on my own side.” Mal draws a breath, and looks at the members of his crew arrayed in the cabin. “We could open this up to the Able Seamen, and take a vote, or I could just agree that you're all a bunch of feckless, romantic idiots with the self-preservation instincts of a day-old chick.” He sighs, and turns to Dr Tam. “Welcome aboard, Doctor. Miss Tam. Since it seems you don't have the currency you promised me when we set off on this voyage, perhaps we can agree that you can make the rest of your payment in work?”

Tam eyes Jayne with suspicion. “River is not – she is a respectable young woman,” he says.

“Am not,” says River, from her position in the hammock. She's still clad in just her bloomers and one of Simon's shirts.

“See?” says Jayne, hopefully, and Zoe slaps him without looking up.

“Well, leaving aside the question of respectability – which I've come to see is a highly over-rated quality – does she not have some skills? You stood here telling us she was the cleverest, shiniest little jewel of girlhood ever to walk the face of the earth, with her sums and her languages and her duelling. Can she swab a deck?”

River flips herself over and out of the hammock with one startlingly graceful move, and stands in the middle of the room, smiling a very disconcerting little smile. “I can outfight every man and woman aboard this vessel, and I can navigate without need of a map or a compass, so long as I can see the sky,” she says, her voice clear and precise. “I know what lurks beneath the surface of the ocean, and what lies behind men's eyes, and I can scramble up to the crow's nest faster than any rigger on board. I can run, and dance, and swim, and I know all the Prime Numbers, and the names of all the stars in the sky – their true names, not the made-up ones. I know dead languages and living languages and the languages of beasts and fish. Sometimes I can walk on air.” She cocks her head thoughtfully, and adds: “But I can't cook. Cooking is not one of my skills.”

“Well, sounds like you're still in a job, at any rate, Mister Book,” murmurs Zoe.

“Aw, c'mon, Cap'n. Can we keep 'em?” begs Master Frye.

“We're keeping them, Master Frye. I make no doubt we'll come to regret it in the fullness of time, but – looks like we're keeping 'em,” says Mal, shaking his head at his own folly.

More, please? ::puppy eyes::

Oh, bless you! I'm glad you liked it - but that's where I'm drawing to a close. (I mean, I could send them off to find Tia Dalma, and we could see River get kind of cured of some of her crazy, and the compass handed over to Tia Dalma in return - but I'm going to end it with the gang all assembled. 'Cause there are 25 squares on my bingo card. And although technically I could just write 25 little 500 word pieces...somehow it isn't working out quite like that.

sighs

Oh, Fay, that was lovely! It blended the two worlds quite nicely and with that little bit of Tam Lin thrown in, it quite gave me the chills when you described Simon holding on to River through all those changes. Well done! And while I wouldn't mind more, I do think that you've drawn it to a very satisfying conclusion.

Just a bit of e-mail to break up all the phone call bits
snarkydoc@ppth.com

Mom, no fair. Make Foreman stop touching me...when are you coming back? I don't get to do *any* fun procedures anymore.

Lisa_cuddy@yahoo.com

I don't know; how's it really going?

snarkydoc@ppth.com

Saved 2 out of 3, but I think you and I might have saved the third too. Have some guilt to go with your Hollywood nookie, Cuddy.

Lisa_cuddy@yahoo.com

Who says nookie anymore, and I thought you said guilt was useless.

snarkydoc@ppth.com

It is...unless...is it working? How is the himbo anyway? Any more infections for you to clear up?

Lisa_cuddy@yahoo.com
Honestly, House...sigh. People die when I'm right there, too.:(

And don't say those things about Vince. He's much deeper than he looks.

Snarkydoc@ppth.com

Wouldn't he have to be? And his creative mind must be responsible for the bitchin' new e-mail address.

Lisa_cuddy@yahoo.com
Couldn't keep using "Partypants" could I?

snarkydoc@ppth.com
It seemed funny at the time. Oh, and Queens Boulevard sucked.

Lisa_cuddy@yahoo.com
I loved it...

snarkydoc@ppth.com
Loved *it* or loved *him*

Lisa_cuddy@yahoo.com

Can I get back to you on that? And how can you still be asking me things that give me a headache from this far away?

snarkydoc@ppth

I keep telling you, I'm that good, Cuddy.

Yay!

Fay, you're an alchemist beyond compare. How you manage to get dialogue that would be at home in Hornblower or Temeraire as well as PotC still sound like it came from the mouths of the Serenity crew we know... It's a wonder. And I want more--much more!--of this tale. How does a year's worth sound to you? Could you spin us tales over a year's time? We'll pay you in...um, porn, of your choice? Pretty pretty pictures of pretty pretty people? Pretty words about lovely lads and lasses practicing lascivious deeds? Sweets? Chocolate? Name your price, dear. Just give us more of this 'verse, please.

This has only a tangential relationship to what I've been writing, but a giant John Hughes fan like me couldn't resist.
SHERMER HIGH SCHOOL

CHICAGO

SPRING 1985

"Come with me,"Even making this innocuous request, Ari Gold was practically bouncing out of his skin.Lisa didn't know how he managed; he barely drank coffee.

"Seriously? It's Friday night and it's spring, and you can think of nothing better than to go to some art theater and watch "Raging Bull" again? Get some fresh air or something."

"You like De Niro." His look turned pleading, but if Lisa didn't watch out, he'd take every minute of her time.

"Yes, and I like you too, but I need a little space, Ari. Jeez."She had another friend who liked her this much, but they were both eight and girls and if she'd had breasts then, she doubted if Monica Green would look at them very much. On the other hand, Ari wouldn't covet her Barbie Dream Car.

"Come over this weekend, then. My mother is worried that I don't have non- AV friends."

"Your dad doesn't like me."

"My dad would love it if I could turn into you. Serious, A-student who wants to be a doctor? You are Ezra Gold's perfect child. Minus some important pelvic adjustments of course."

"If you want to go to the movies, take one of those blonde girls whose chests you're always staring at."

"I'd stare at yours, but you told me you'd hurt me."

"I meant it too."

"I know...you remind me every chance you get. But those girls don't know anything. They talk and chew gum during the movies."

"So, you like me because I'm fifty percent parent-approved and the perfect movie date? That's something, I guess. More than I get from the other guys at this shithole. Hey, you're not part of that little macho cadre that taped that guy's butt together, are you?"

"I wanted to, but..." Seeing Lisa's angry look, he amended his thought to "but I thought it over and I thought it would be wrong." This being-in-love stuff made being one of the guys almost impossible, if it wasn't already.

"That's why I like you, Ari Gold. You have principles."

Adorable! Like watching Sixteen Candles or Some Kind of Wonderful or something! Bless!

Well, it's been a busy couple of days in Fayland. I have committed tentacle porn and RPS (although the RPS could have had a find-and-replace with any names stuck in there, it really could - it was just the prompt that cracked me up too much to resist).

Here, however, I bring you fluffy Leverage fic as a palate-cleanser:

SORTED

"Gryffindor."

"Say what?"

"You. Gryffindor. With the chess-playing, and that whole crazy reckless run-headlong-into-war-zones thing. Gryffindor, definitely."

"Is this supposed to mean something to me?"

"Oh come on! Everybody's read Harry Potter!"

"..."

"Or seen the movies? I know you've seen the movies. Got to be living on Mars to not see any of the movies."

"I've not seen any of the movies, Hardison."

"You were on Mars?"

"Is this helping you fix my headset?"

"I'm just making conversation! While fixing your headset! I can multi-task! I am a multi-tasker!"

"Well - don't. Just fix the damned handset already."

"What you gonna do - hit me with your ninja moves, Eliot? Good luck getting the damned headset to work then!"

"You are testing my patience."

"Oh, no, come on - I know you love it really."

"See my face?"

"Yeah?"

"This is not my I-love-it face."

"..."

"This is my I-love-it face. See the difference?"

"...not so much, actually. It's like, one was grumpy, and one was surly. You know, Surly - the eighth dwarf, the one that left just before the other seven got famous."

"Just fix the headset."

"Now you're hurting my feelings, with all this surliness. I don't feel appreciated. I am a sensitive individual, and it's hard to concentrate on a delicate task like this when you're feeling all unappreciated."

"Fine. Fix the goddamn headset please."

"See, that wasn't so hard! You just turned my frown upside down! I'm feeling all motivated again!"

"..."

"Sophie, now - classic, old-skool Slytherin. She'd have joined the Deatheaters like that."

"You keep on talking, but all I'm hearing is: 'blah blah blah I'm an enormous geek blah blah blah.'"

"You say that like it's a bad thing!"

"..."

"Nate, now - Nate's a tricky one. Back in the day, I would've said Gryffindor for sure, all the way - Boy Scout with a hero complex, y'know? And he's still that way, but he's also a lot sneakier than I'd figured. I'm thinking I had him wrong all along. I want to say Slytherin, because that's a metric butt load of sneaky he's got going on. But then other days I think, well, he's all about the loyalty, isn't he? That's his thing – devoted father, devoted husband, devoted drinker – so maybe Hufflepuff playing at being a Slytherin? A Slytherpuff? Or maybe he's a Gryffindor playing at being a Slytherin? A Gryfferin?”

“Still not seeing a working headset here, Hardison.”

“I'm getting there! Sheesh! This kind of job takes time! Do you know how many people there are on the planet who could even identify these components, let alone manipulate them in just the right way? I'll tell you how many: one. Just one. And you're looking at him. If I charged by the minute, you'd be bankrupt.”

“...”

“I'm just saying.”

“Fine. Just – make it work, okay? I need it to work.”

“Nag, nag, nag. God, it's like having a wife, without all the hot sex and delicious cooking.”

“I can cook. I'm a very good cook, in fact.”

“With the little squeeze of lemon – yeah, I remember. Death-by-appetiser. And yet you never cook for me, do you? You're always off cooking for some other person. I just get the nagging.”

“You want me to cook for you? Fine. Fine, I'll cook for you. Just fix the damned headset before I die of old age, and I'll celebrate by cooking something.”

“...you're kidding, right?”

“I said it, didn't I? It's no big deal.”

“Huh. You gonna start offering me hot sex too, if I stick around long enough?”

“It's a good headset, but it's not that good.”

“Don't listen to him, baby! (continued...)