I'm setting us in stone, piece by piece before I'm alone

[enchangement]

Who: The WonderSibs Ned & River
Where: House 20
When: Morning, Day 73
What: River and Ned conversatin'

River had already been given the 'talk'. Not the birds and the bees sort of talk, mind, but the 'we don't tell just anyone who one's significant other is or might be' sort of talk. That had been ages ago with Erik and Charles, and while she definitely took it to heart, Ned was different.

Kind of.

River didn't have any intention of playing town crier, marching across the island announcing 'hear ye, hear ye, a human is falling in love with a robot, hear ye, hear ye' but that didn't mean she was any less interested in these developments. Obviously. Ned is her best friend, her self-proclaimed sibling. There's no way in the 'verse she isn't going to be interested.

Interest, however, is an odd thing for River. She can stare at it or she can ignore it; she can announce it or she can pretend it doesn't exist. So she's noticed, in her way, what Daneel would call a 'positronic shift' between the two, threads between Ned and Daneel drawn tight and then looping over themselves again. She recognizes it, recognizes the dark plunge of terror-filled nightmares and then the gasping breathes of air that are the moments Ned spends in Daneel's room in the aftermath of that subconscious torture under the guise of sleep.

She notices. Eventually, she has to comment. To someone. Someone who happens to be Ned attempting to quietly return to his own room on the first floor after spending the earlier night in Daneel's, sleeping and talking in turns.

It's probably not the nicest thing, to startle him so badly at the beginning of his day but he'll get used to it. Or something. "Heeeeeeeeeey Ned."

No one has ever accused River of being subtle, have they?

Comments

[nedofpies]

Ned hadn't expected anyone would be in the hallway. It's too early for any of his housemates to be awake, and even if they were, there's no reason they would be lingering silently a few feet outside Daneel's door, waiting to ambush him. He starts, lets out a quiet but undignified gasp that quickly morphs into a relieved half-laugh when he sees that it is just River.

"Good morning, River," he says, with just the tiniest hint of prissy reproach in his tone, but it isn't genuine, and he knows that she'll know it. Trying to convince her that sneaking up on him isn't nice is a battle he'd given up a while ago. Besides, it's always good to see her, even so abruptly and unexpectedly.

If it were anyone else, he might be coming up with an excellent excuse for why he'd been in Daneel's room just now. Maybe putting some of those lying skills Meyer had started to teach him to practice. But with River there's no point whatsoever, so he doesn't even bother. He hasn't really discussed what's been going on between the two of them with River, though he has the feeling that she's aware of it. He's gotten used to thinking of River as being aware of most things that are going on.

So rather than offer up any kind of explanation, he merely says, "How about I make us some breakfast?"

Because Ned is happy to see her, cares about her, and this is how he expresses it. He'd had almost a decade and a half of solitary breakfasts before he came here. The loneliness of living alone had always felt keenest to Ned during the morning meal, starting his day in silence, the way he would end it. Nothing like the chaos and clamor of boarding school breakfasts - not that he'd enjoyed those much, either. But this is somewhere in-between and delightful.

[enchangement]

"Good morning good morning good morning!" She doesn't quite shout, since she doesn't want to wake anyone else up, but she's not exactly whispering either. The sun is up; people can be up too.

Seriously though, she doubts anyone is going to come stomping out of a bedroom to shush her just yet.

River leads the way to the kitchen, twirling on the balls of her bare feet every third step, clockwise then counterclockwise. Today feels good. There are new people still, like some dam that needs patching leaking freshwater into a saltwater pond, but she can worry about that later. Now there's other things, like breakfast.

"Sleep well?" She pokes him in the side with a forefinger and giggles.

[nedofpies]

River's energy is infectious. Ned might not be twirling on the outside, but he feels very nearly capable of it. He pads after her in his sock feet, hands clasped together behind him, grinning at her exuberance. The poke earns her a smile and a soft laugh; it's so unabashedly juvenile, so utterly little-sister-ish.

"Like a baby. Except that babies don't really sleep all that well, do they? Like a log, then, or other inanimate object." Ned gets out a loaf of bread that he'd baked the other day, cuts a slice for each of them. If things were different, he would make much more of a production of breakfast, pull out all the stops. But given the food situation, toast and jam and tea is as close to all the stops as he's going to get. "But I'm sure you already knew that."

His smile widens as he thinks about that, thinks about the reason why he'd slept better last night. He beams down at the kettle as he fills it.

[enchangement]

"When they sleep, it's whole and wholesome. Just not very long-lasting." She grins at him, perching herself on the table and swinging her legs to a 3/5 note beat in her head. Tast, jam and tea is really a wonderful breakfast, al things considered. "Tomorrow to bring a mint plant all your own."

For tea, or cooking, or what have you. Maybe things will actually improve a bit, River thinks; there was an announcement about rebuilding by that one guy some of the angels don't like and yet all of them seem to know. Organization is the grandparent of structure.

She's distracted from that thread of thought by Ned's smile and the hum of positive emotions that sets off after, like the soft chiming of a bell choir far away. "Did you tell him you're fond? Daneel calls you a friend because he doesn't know what else to call it, but you're important." An impish grin. "We talked about you, days ago."

[nedofpies]

"Oohh, mint." Ned doesn't bother trying to hide his excitement. Every little luxury is important, in this place. He isn't going to take an offer like that for granted; he could use a mint plant for a dozen different things. But even setting aside the utility, the fact that River would make such an offer, would go out of her way to bring him something she thinks will make him happy - that's the best part of all.

He puts the slices of bread into the toaster, has to hit it a few times with the heel of his palm before it decides it wants to turn on properly. That done, he pulls the various jams that he's made over the course of the last few days out of the refrigerator. There isn't too much variety (at least, not by Ned's standards), but he has strawberry, blackberry, and apricot. He brings the jars to the table, sets them out and takes a seat close to River and her swinging legs.

Important. That reminds him of significant, to say the least and he may very well be going a bit red now, but it's out of happiness. It's all a bit unreal; both what is developing between him and Daneel, and having someone like River around to ask about it, with that gleeful curiosity.

But he hasn't answered her question, has he?

"I, um- I did, actually, but he already knew. He's like you, well, kind of. He can tell what people are feeling. So I imagine it was pretty obvious all along." Daneel, quite frankly, wouldn't need empathic powers to notice the way Ned came alive in his presence, how he kept finding reasons to be around him. It had only been out of politeness that he'd failed to mention anything, before Ned brought it up himself.

"He tried to convince me to change my mind, at first. Said all this stuff about... how probably he wasn't good enough for me because he's a robot and I needed someone human, but I didn't listen to any of that." It would be another story if Daneel had reservations that didn't have to do with the fact that he'd been programmed to think of himself as worthless and forbidden from wanting things.

Ned gets up, plucks the toast out of the toaster at just the right moment, brings it over on two plates, setting one beside River.

[enchangement]

"He thinks he can't support properly what he can't reciprocate in an exact mirror image. If his feelings are different does that make them unreal or unworthy? He isn't sure, so he doubts he can be what you need and failure ...to break your heart would break him."

River spreads a little of each of the three jam flavors on one of her slices of toast, smiling around it at Ned. Despite the slightly depressing phrasing, her tone is still that mix of excited curiosity that infects so much of what she does on a good day. "Current theory: he is not even capable of heartbreak."

She giggles, swinging her legs again. "So is it to be a secret? Confidence as a matter of privacy, hopefully, and not ...concern but please say it isn't! It's so hard not to be happy when others are happy." Another bite. "But if it is, then tell me, and I'll keep my bubbles to empty rooms where you can make faces at me like Erik does."

[nedofpies]

"Well I'm sure enough for the both of us." Ned smooths the apricot jam over his toast with a kind of exactness, looking down at it as he speaks. It's nice, to have someone to discuss this with who isn't Daneel, who can give her opinion and support and commentary. "He doesn't understand that different humans feel things very differently, too, and none of us are exact mirror images. I have just as much in common with him as I do with you." He takes a bite of the toast, decisively, continues to speak even as he chews, "And he doesn't understand that... that what most people are supposed to want and what I actually want might be entirely different."

Ned's tried to mold himself into that image of 'most people'. Tried to make himself act and desire and think in that way. It had been a disaster spread out over the course of months, and who knows how many other people he had hurt and confused along the way. He's older, now. Knows himself better. The things he needs - patience, goodness, stability, kindness, the ability to make him feel safe and wanted - are all qualities that Daneel possesses in greater quantities than any human ever could.

All of which Ned sums up with a simple, "Actually, we're rather perfect for each other, if you ask me." And then he takes a bite of his toast, but it's hard to chew when his mouth is trying to hard to smile. He hides the process behind one hand.

River's giggles are endearing, but Ned raises his eyebrows in surprise at the question. "No, it's not a secret," he says, without hesitation. He can't imagine Daneel caring one way or another, and as for him, he has no particular qualms about it being known. "I mean, whatever it is. I'm not sure what's the right word to use, or even if there is one. It's not-" again, he has to pause, ducking his head, lines of joy crinkling their ways around his eyes, "-never really thought I'd be in this situation in the first place."

In fact, he'd been convinced of the contrary. That there was some flaw in his heart, stopping him from being able to grow fond, as River put it. He'd wanted to, tried to, but it had never happened, for years and years. He'd assumed he was defective, had put away any hope for a change and resigned himself to solitary breakfast and having no one there to wake him up from his nightmares.

But something River said gives him pause. "Erik makes faces at you?" Does she mean the man's general dour demeanor, or is she implying something else entirely...?

[enchangement]

River wiggles her eyebrows at Ned's not quite covered laughter. "Whatever it is," she repeats mischievously, reaching over to poke him in the knee this time, "smells an awful lot like peach pie in the middle of the night."

Of course she immediately erupts into giggles again at Ned's question; in her mind this is going to be a 'gangsters!' moment for Ned, as he's actually seen Charles and Erik interact together, but then again? Maybe not. Either way she has to let all that laughter out before she can consider the benefits and drawbacks of circumventing her promise to the two. Namely that she wouldn't tell.

"Don't tell anyone and don't tell Erik I told you." A pause. "No. Don't volunteer, that I told you to him, if he asks be honest. Always be honest." Ned is her brother, and her dearest friend, so she can trust him to keep it to himself. Even if he didn't, the most reasonable connection would be to Daneel, who may or may not already be aware of Erik's 'fondness' for Charles, and thus isn't much of a concern anyway. The rest of Ned's housemates? Are variables, with variating connections to the pair or to her, but she simply shakes off the idea that she'll have to concern herself with that information spreading too rapidly. "If Charles asks he half knows so may as well say it."

River gives Ned a beat to let that sink in (and to see if he adds all whole numbers to infinity and comes up with negative one over twelve). "Charles was the first like himself Erik ever met and that could've been enough? He thought he was alone, an the path he's on is immovable from beneath his feet, but he only saw the end of that path and nothing else. No continuations, no future. Driving and driven, it was all Erik knew and then he met Charles.

It would be enough! It would be enough for what most people see when they look at the two of them, this friendship that checks and balances against itself constantly, harmonizing or unwinding in tandem like the unzipping of deoxyribonucleic acid. It would be enough, but ...but Charles showed him the truth, that Erik could rewind entire planetary pathways if he so chose, that there was more to him than the anger that had been the linchpin for so long. He gave him back things he'd thought he'd lost. Emotions and memories and showed him the limitless depths of what he could do and Charles ...Charles loves so much, but he loves Erik in a way he could never turn from."

River sets her plate down and lays on the table, covering her eyes. "They are contradictory and complimentary and even when they fight I just want to shout because it's better than a fairy tale it's real. But I can't, because Charles turns red and Erik makes faces and they made me promise that I wouldn't but maybe this'll be good. Maybe this will be the opposite of history that Erik has seen."

[nedofpies]

River's mention of peach pie prompts a surprised blush from Ned, though he should know better by now. Knowing that she can see everything that's going on in his head isn't quite the same as hearing her repeat a phrase like that and understand everything that it implies. But it's a good sort of surprise.

The story she tells about Erik and Charles is quite a lot of information take in, considering he only woke up a few minutes earlier. Still, he listens intently, and gets the gist of it. Erik had told him he understood what it felt like, thinking he was alone. It only makes sense that Charles was the first other mutant he met, that Charles introduced him to his identity. As for that path, that drive, Ned doesn't know what it's in reference to, but he sets the information aside for later. Far more important, for the time being, is the point that River comes to next.

Ned's eyebrows climb high on his forehead, holding his toast halfway to his mouth, forgetting it is even there. "They're- the two of them-" The kettle on the stove is starting to whistle, but Ned pays it no mind whatsoever. Slowly, his eyes start to spark with delight and comprehension. "Together?"

It makes sense. How Erik had told him that nothing he could do would come between them. How Charles had been sure that his own safety was sure, with Erik around to look after him. How broken up Charles had been when Erik was gone, the fact that Erik concerned himself with what Ned thought of Charles after what had happened between them. Even smaller details that he didn't realize he remembered: the way they moved around one another, the way they spoke to one another.

Ned sets down his toast and puts one hand to his mouth, but he's grinning underneath it. The whistling of the kettle is getting quite insistent, now. He goes over to turn off the stove automatically, prepares the tea mechanically while his mind is awhirl.

"I won't breathe a word," he assures, because she'd made it very clear how important that is. "You know I can keep a secret." It's second nature, to him. Not a burden at all. But that need for secrecy is nothing compared to the mental bombshell that is the revelation that Charles and Erik are secretly a couple. "Oh my god, I had no idea."

[enchangement]

River can feel Ned pulling the threads of her explanation together until it makes up a whole concept, warm, colorful and varied like a quilt. She's thrilled that he understands why this is so important, not just to keep secret but even just to exist. Love and affection are very powerful things all on their own, but Charles and Erik are verw powerful people and she doubts that any mutant can thrive without emotional balance.

She should know, really. "No one does, not really. Probably for best, probably not of much interest to anyone interested in blowing their way out of the experiment under glass but it's still important." River returns her attention to her second piece of toast, repeating the same three flavor spread as before.

"It's good to watch happiness grow."

[nedofpies]

Yes; like usual, River has phrased Ned's exact thoughts, more simply and more poetically than he ever could. He comes back to the table and just sits there, stunned and smiling, cradling his tea between his hands. The warmth of the mug mirrors the warmth inside him, the vicarious joy of finding out that two of his friends are in love with one another.

"I can't believe it. I mean, I can, it's just-" he trails off, shaking his head.

A lot of the time, he's sure it's not all that nice for River. The way she is forced to see into everyone's heads. Ned is extrapolating based on his own experience, but he knows that his mind isn't all that pleasant a place to be, some of the time. Everyone else here is shielded from that. He can decide whether or not to let them get a glimpse of the fear, the doubt, the suspicion, the self-loathing, the disgust, the helplessness, and all the other bad things. With River, though, she must experience the unhappiness of everyone around her.

So it makes sense that she would be so moved by the 'fairy tale,' as she called it, of Charles and Erik being in love, or of the feelings that Ned is developing for Daneel. Their happiness is, in many ways, literally her happiness. Ned can enjoy it vicariously, but he also understands that it's more than that, for River.

"And they know that you know, of course?"

[enchangement]

"They know I know, they asked I not tell, for reasons. Good and personal but mostly history did you know the things that have been done to the soul in the name of sins of the flesh?" River draws her shoulders up towards her ears and pulls a face. "Erik knows, Erik has seen it, and it's terrible but it won't happen here. Won't allow it, in opposition of believing it can't. Many things can happen. Many people trapped turn on one another."

Ned isn't terribly far off with his assumption that being unable to turn off the thoughts of others is not as pleasant as some might think. River tries not to dwell on it; it is, in fact, quite against her nature and design, broken as it is, to be able to dwell on much of anything. Especially that which hurts or discomforts.

Anyway. The negativity of all of that is chased out of her head with a wave of her hand, like clearing incense smoke. "Told Erik about you and Daneel, he said, he could certainly do worse. Approval! From the most frighteningly dangerous person we know." River grins impishly. "Glad to feel you happy, too, after nightmares. Glad to echo that in empty rooms."

[nedofpies]

Yes, Ned does know some of those things that have been done, though he's sure there are many more that he hasn't heard of, yet. It wasn't exactly a topic they covered at the Longborough School for Boys. Most of what he knew about history - real history - he'd learned on his own, in those early years of his independence, just listening and talking, spending the spare hours between his jobs reading at the library, where it was so much quieter than the various tiny apartments he'd inhabited.

What River says about Erik having seen that kind of violence chills Ned's blood, briefly. He wants to ask but it's not his place, and perhaps not River's to tell. He knows she'll probably have sensed that flicker of curiosity in him, feels ashamed of it a moment later.

He understands the distinction well, between not thinking people are capable of cruelty and being determined not to allow it. He doesn't doubt that River will be able to hold back any tides of hatred that threaten them, because his belief in her is strong. Especially if she has help from others: from Erik, from Charles, from Daneel, even from himself.

"What?"

Ned hadn't realized that. Of course, he didn't think of it as a secret, per se, isn't mad that River had told Erik. Had this been before or after he'd seen Erik last? It must have been after, he thinks. Erik didn't bring it up. Then again, perhaps that was just him being discreet. He isn't exactly the type to gossip. River's description of him as the most dangerous person they know gives him pause. Automatically, he thinks that no, of course Erik isn't the most dangerous. Charles holds that dubious honor, at least in Ned's mind.

"Echo what now?" Most of the time, by now, he understands River, can follow the sinuous path of her language and logic. But every now and then, he has to stop, has to ask for clarification; now is one of those times.

[enchangement]

River won't exactly argue that Charles is the more dangerous, though in River's mind that is still a matter of mostly statistics. She knows that what Charles did to Ned is not something to be ignored or waved off, but ...she also knows what Charles doesn't do with the powers he normally possesses is quite a great deal. If Erik is the blade then Charles is the hilt, and the knife will cut either way.

Later, maybe, if it comes up - the horror that people have witnessed - maybe she'll tell Ned about Miranda and maybe she'll explain numbers in blue ink and what it means. She's not entirely certain the world Ned came from is on the same trajectory as the world Charles and Erik came from. Not that it matters. Evil is evil, and absolute power corrupts absolutely.

Either way she shakes her head. "A report had to be given and it's important." One of us, Ned, one of us; the goings-on of all mutants are of the highest priority when updating Erik on anything he's missed, and River is the best earnest little spy anyone could ask for. "Not like he'll announce it."

She almost ignores the question of echoes, returning her attention to toast, but: "The room was Cass' and I was the guest. Easiest way to acclimate, easiest way to breathe. On Serenity the room was shared with Simon and now it echoes, it's empty and it sighs and all I do is think in the space between seconds. Don't feel sorry for me!" She points at Ned. "It will just take time. Only been here ...thirty days, take away two."

[nedofpies]

A report. It's an interesting phrase, certainly. Ned knows that Erik and Charles are both very important to River, that she looks up to them, orients herself by them in some strange way that doubtless makes more sense to her than it ever could to him. And of course, she is quite right. Even setting aside questions of discretion, Erik probably wouldn't bring that kind of thing up in casual conversation unless Ned prompted it. It would simply be too awkward.

River's further explanation wilts Ned's smile, a fraction. She can point at him and tell him not to feel sorry for her all she wants, but he is still going to worry, the same way he worried when he found out that Daneel was living in an almost-empty house. Ned knows the way that empty spaces can take sadness and amplify it exponentially, like the echoes River mentions.

When she says what she does about sharing a room with Simon on their spaceship he feels a pang of regret; ought he to have offered to let her come and sleep in his bed - not just when he was drowning in melancholy after Jesse's death, but when she needed to? Part of him objects that he didn't know she would even want such a thing, but that's hardly an excuse. River always knows everything that he needs and is so patient with him, so good to him. He should try harder, be a better big brother to her than he has been, staying so wrapped up in his own head and his own joys and sadnesses.

But then, belatedly, he realizes that he would hardly be a fitting substitute for Cass, let alone Simon. His own bad dreams are potent enough to trouble Daneel, from the next room over. It only stands to reason that they would be even worse for River, whose power is so much more visceral. And, Ned remembers, the contents of some of his more frequent nightmares would be particularly unpleasant for River, who had actually lived such things herself.

"But in the meantime you're unhappy," Ned says, his tone making it quite clear that he finds the state of affairs to be unacceptable. He might not prove all that good of company in his own sleep, but he knows that, at least some of the time, River sleeps during the day. If she wants, if it will make it easier for her to get some rest, he'd stay in the house all day just to watch over her and stay in her space. "If you want to- you know you are always welcome here, right?"

[enchangement]

There is, as Ned has realized, the issue of nightmares but there is something else as well. If River ever allowed herself to imagine, even for a handful of moments, that the things she does has any effect on who remains and who returns, who vanishes to never be heard from again and who escapes by wit of some machinations she can't track and observe ...if she did that, if she believed that, she would still hesitate to sleep in Ned's room while he slept too.

Those she did that with, out of comfort, out of collapsing on the spot, are all gone. Cass and Oliver and Darwin and Soobie, amongst so many others (and it's only been thirty days, thirty rising suns and waning moons and it isn't fair, she isn't built to withstand the rapid entrance and exit of those she pins bits of her sanity upon like tails to a kite floating in zero gravity) are all gone and she needs Ned to stay.

River needs Ned to stay because she is already afraid of what will happen when this experiment fails, when the center collapses and Chaos reigns as Erik pointed out it would. What will happen when Ned returns to his solitary life (plus one good dog) and River is universes away without being able to explain to anyone back on Serenity why she's so upset.

So River redirects her gaze to lines and stitches in her dress, smoothing patterns in fabric while she weighs the mass of what Ned is offering. She sleeps during the day because there aren't many who are observant at night - most of those that don't sleep are occupied with concerns of their own, not the people she worries about, barring a few like Daneel and Erik's inescapable insomnia - and during the day the sounds and feelings of people living their lives as best they can is ...well.

It's a lullaby, in a way. So River nods, hesitantly. "Only if you're not busy with other things." Things that take him out of the house, because he is the touchstone in this case.

[nedofpies]

Ned doesn't know what it is he's said or done to make River go still and sad and silent like that; he can't read minds, like her, but he can read body language, and he knows that something is wrong. He doesn't interrupt her thoughts. River deserves a moment of quiet, a moment to dwell on whatever she is dwelling on. She lives with enough interruptions without him adding yet another. But his face grows gradually more anxious as he watches her, the way her hands move over her dress, tracing out signs he doesn't understand.

There is something tentative in that nod, in the condition that she gives him, that makes Ned get to his feet - not quickly, but deliberately - and wrap his arms around her. Even with her sitting on the table, he is tall enough to tuck her head under his chin, bringing one hand up to cradle the back of her head lightly.

Before he came here he didn't believe in hugs, couldn't see why other people were always so insistent in their desire to force them on him. Now, his perspective has shifted. He thinks of River as powerful - practically invulnerable - but that's not true. At the moment she seems, to him, painfully small and incredibly young. He knows, logically, that holding her won't improve anything; not really. But it's the best he can do, the closest he can come to protecting her from whatever it is in her that makes her hesitate, that makes her eyes go so dull and heavy with melancholy.

"I'm never too busy for you, River." He's already thinking the words, but he needs to say them out loud, too. There's value in that; it makes them real. "As far as I'm concerned, you're priority number one. Okay? So any time you want something, I don't care how silly it sounds, you better just ask me for it, alright? Otherwise I'm gonna find out-" he doesn't elaborate how, because it's not important, "-and I'm going to be so angry. I'm serious. There will be actual steam coming out of my ears." He's teasing, of course. He doubts he could ever get mad at her. Not really.

[enchangement]

At first River just sits there, not frozen exactly but somewhere between squirmy and resigned. That is until Ned 'threatens' her with his disappointment. How did he learn such a big brother trick, the tried and true do this for me not for you brand of taking care of one another? Simon would approve, River thinks, squeezing her eyes shut and balling her fists into the back of Ned's shirt. "Okay, dàgē." She seems in possession of big brothers no matter what the universe.

"I will." Now she does disentangle herself but not so far as to actually pull away. "But sometimes, it's obscured even to the ones to whom it is necessary. Don't always know what we need. Don't always know how to say what we need." Sometimes people are afraid to ask for what they need because they know it borders near-impossible, and that's where River and Ned are, in a way. They can promise to do everything they can to stay and take care of one another, but everything they can is actually a very short list.

She wishes she were a little more like Erik, to have a mission to focus on beyond all else that didn't give her room to question the what if of going home; but if she takes a bit more from Erik then she'd have to take a bit more from Charles as well. It's all about balance, and if they are the compass points then Ned is the pin that keeps her from spinning off into nothing. "Goes both ways, this agreement. If you want something, you tell me too."

A firm nod, for even little sisters can be protectors too.

[nedofpies]

"Da-what?" Ned asks, quizzically. It's a nickname or epithet that River has called him before, but he's never remembered to ask what it meant, before now.

She is right of course. He can't let himself fall back on just assuming that she'll be able to ask him, any time she needs something. He has to be on the lookout, try to figure out for himself, as well, what is in her best interest. That's his responsibility, and he's happy to have it. There's something appealing in the idea of being able to care for someone else, once in a while. Not to always be the one in danger, the one who is broken, the one in need of tending.

"It's a deal," Ned says, giving her one last squeeze and pulling away completely. He moves his chair a bit closer though, sits back down to his tea with a smile. River's already done so much to protect him.

"You know what I want right now?" He doesn't give her a chance to answer before he says, "For you to finish your breakfast." He gives the rest of River's toast a significant look and then raises his eyebrows at her, but he can't help the smile tugging at his mouth.

[enchangement]

"Mandarin, broken, old, half-forgotten and half-contorted. Means brother. Most of them are and do, the words in the language that isn't common and isn't just me being ...me." Which he can usually understand by now. Maybe it's history that makes her easier to parse, she realizes, terrible and awful and beautiful history. Maybe it's knowing just how horrific and amazing life can be.

Maybe it's a blessing and a curse, like so many other things, but Ned is saying it's a deal and River's mind reorients itself to the present, to this house, this kitchen, and everything it encompasses right now ...including her half-forgotten toast. So River sticks her tongue out at Ned, in true little sister style, and gets back to eating.

"Lucky to know you, Daneel and I. The circumstance is rotten and rotting and falling through, but the luck, it's there."

[nedofpies]

Mandarin? Well, that is surprising. It makes sense, though. River's speech has occasionally been peppered with words that he doesn't know. He'd never been sure what language they were - some future space dialect, he'd guessed. Apparently not.

He sticks his tongue out at her, in turn, then laughs. This is another thing that River is good at, bringing out his childish side. Ned hadn't gotten much of an opportunity to be a child. Not after his mother died. He likes that River can be silly, that her silliness coaxes his own immature joy out of him at moments like this.

"I'm lucky to know you two, too."