Author's Note: By popular demand, here's a companion piece to "September". Simon does not deal with loss very well.

Three months. Simon considered the weight of the time. On one hand, it felt like forever. On the other hand, it felt scandalously short, as if the time had been torn away from him and was being dangled half an inch out of his grasp. December. Christmas. Inara was trying her best—she’d erected Kaylee’s little tree and they’d all half-heartedly decorated. But it wasn’t the same. It couldn’t be the same. It had taken Mal several weeks to start looking for a new mechanic, and when he did, it sent Simon into hysterics. “I’m not trying to replace Kaylee,” Mal told him. “But you are!” Simon protested. “I need a mechanic, Simon. I know full well I ain’t gonna find another Kaylee. Ain’t no one better than my mei-mei, you know that better’n anyone. I ain’t tryin’ to replace the light, I’m just tryin’ to keep flying.” “I understand,” Simon managed. Something Kaylee had said once, just before she got sick, flashed through Simon’s mind. Just wanna keep flyin’ forever. He bit down on his lip, suddenly overcome by the overwhelming desire to cry. “Pull yourself together,” he murmured, before realizing that Mal was crying, too.

***

The new mechanic’s name was Alf, which Simon thought was too stereotypical to be appropriate. December 23rd was Alf’s first full day on board. He stood, large hands shoved in coverall pockets, and surveyed the engine room from the threshold. “What in the gorram hell’d your old mechanic do?” he asked, inspecting Kaylee’s repair work sceptically. Mal gave him a look. “Worked miracles,” he replied. That evening after supper, Simon sat in the spot where Kaylee’s hammock used to be, watching. “S’a wonder your old mechanic kept this piece of luh-suh in the air so long. He musta been real skilled at his craft. You want my opinion? Cap’n should ground it. Prob’ly get a fortune for what’s workin’.” Simon’s fist contacted with Alf’s jaw. “You don’t ever, ever call Serenity a piece of luh-suh,” he growled, kicking at Alf’s shins. “Kaylee did more work on her than you could possibly wrap your puny brain around. Only reason Mal would ever have to ground her is because you can’t keep up with her.” There were tears streaming down his face, and he was near hysterical. He gave Alf another hard shove, then ran out of the engine room, and, ultimately, clear into Inara. “Simon?” she asked gently, pulling him back. “Oh, Simon, what’s wrong?” “He called Serenity a piece of luh-suh. Mal hired someone who thinks his home is a piece of crap.” Inara pulled Simon into a hug. “You’re really having a tough time with this, aren’t you?” she carefully brushed a bit of his hair out of his face. “Do you want to come to my shuttle and talk about it?” He nodded. “Okay.” Inara gently led him into her shuttle and sat him down. “Would you like some tea?” she asked, placing a cup in his hands. Simon nodded, but his eyes were focussed on a capture of Kaylee, laughing hysterically at something off-screen. It wasn’t moving, but Simon could hear her just looking at it. “Sometimes,” Inara remarked, “I don’t even have to push play, and there she is. It’s become more a comfort than anything now. A little bit of Kaylee in my day.” She sighed. “It’s not supposed be easy, Simon.” “It hurts,” he explained simply. “I could look through all of my medical textbooks for years and never find a word for this kind of pain.” The tears in his eyes threatened to spill over. “Why did it have to happen to her?” he demanded. “All of the people in this universe, and it had to happen to the most beautiful, wonderful one? Do you have any idea how hard it was to know I couldn’t make her any better, couldn’t just take it away from her?” The delicate teacup smashed in his hand. For what must have been the hundredth time in six months, Inara felt helpless. “Simon, listen. I know you probably won’t take this as much of a comfort, but I want it to be. Kaylee wouldn’t want this for you, Simon. It hurt her like hell to see you sad; I can’t see how this is any different. I’m sure she wants you to have a happy Christmas. She’ll always be in your heart.” Simon bent his head down, realizing for the first time that the cup was broken. “I could’ve saved her,” he whispered. “No you couldn’t have,” Inara said softly, picking up the pieces of the cup. “You did everything you could and she died happy knowing that.” “I was going to propose to her on Christmas Day,” Simon said softly. “I have her ring all wrapped up in my bunk.” He started to cry softly again, and Inara couldn’t think of anything to do but hug him. “Simon, you need to let go. You did everything you possibly could for her. I’m sure she’d want you to be happy.” Simon stood up and walked out of the shuttle. “I won’t let go,” he said firmly as he stood in the doorway. “I can’t ever let go.” From her place behind the door, River sighed. Not until you learn to look past your guilt, you won’t.