Odd how ironic the ‘Verse can sometimes be, how she can sometimes take the most optimistic of situations and turn them around to go-se on you. The hysterical laugh bubbles to his lips as Simon sinks to the floor, hand cupped over his wounded leg, staunching the bleeding though for what purpose, he isn’t sure. Reality seems to be slowing down around him even as his heart races, as panic and terror cling together and meld into one leaving Simon stilled and watching as it moves by him.

Given the situation Simon can’t help the second laugh that softly moves between his lips as the numbness spreads from his leg up his body, only the coppery scent of blood reminding him of his injury. Injury, it’s a good word, but Simon can’t help feeling it’s inappropriate. An injury, an accident, everything this is not. He’s sagging now, against something, anything, he can’t turn his head to look; body no longer working as it should, feeling as it should. Simon can hear what’s happening even if he can’t see it, can hear it just above the pounding in his ears, his heart twisting and stomach lurching as his mind places the sounds. …disassociate that’s what he needs to do, Simon needs to remain strong and firm in mind, if not in body, needs to assess the situation as a doctor not as a victim.

“If I ever kill you, you'll be awake, you'll be facing me, and you'll be armed.”

Simon remembers those words, words said with such conviction and honesty that it reassured him even when it shouldn’t, when it was merely him and River against the world and they were nothing to anyone. He’d thought that now they were more then just that, more then just leeches or space crud, that they were crew. He remembers how Mal came back to rescue them after such a short time on board serenity, how the Captain cast them as being on his crew and unwilling to let them go.

“If I ever kill you…”

He can still hear those words as clear as if it were yesterday, not seven months later and in the most unfavourable of situations. And his eyes are on those who spoke them, clear blue eyes pleading where Simon can’t speak the words. Mal’s eyes are on his, such a deep blue colour usually hiding a wealth of emotion, and Simon’s so used to seeing them guarded or disappointed or even angry that he’s surprised by the depth he sees there; it’s only for a moment but horror flares within Mal’s eyes, a furious anger and conviction covering it a second later as the Captain’s arm tightens around River’s neck, holding Simon’s struggling sister still, dragging her with him.

Mal’s lucky that River’s weakened today, the large bruise on her temple likely to be confusing her addled brain more then usual, as well as exhausting her body. Even if her brief periods of madness make her vulnerable, Simon can guess exactly what his sister is capable of. He’s never seen it first hand, aboard Serenity or otherwise, but he remembers the promise of what River’s meant to be- a living weapon in all forms.

“Mei mei.” Somehow Simon manages to choke out the words, garbled as they are, warmth trickling down his chin as he voices them. His trembling fingers, the only part of him still able to move are outstretched towards her, towards her and Mal. Simon can see her screaming, see her thrashing against Mal, so weakened that the Captain has little difficulty tossing her over one shoulder as his hand moves to his belt, the gun drawn in a moment.

Simon’s eyes are drawn to it, the sleek grey metal promising a world of pain or perhaps the end to one; Simon isn’t sure and its not like he’s actually in any pain to start with, body numb even as his mind works through things, top three percent, sometimes too smart, too clever for my own good. Because Simon knows, knows exactly what’s happening to him and what’s about to happen. He can see the conviction in Mal’s eyes as the Captain raises his gun, pointing it unwaveringly at his chest. There’s only a brief hesitation, a brief pause as everything seems to stop for a moment, the ‘Verse holding it’s breath as it waits for a decision to be made, a chance to be taken.

“If I ever kill you…”

Fear grips at Simon’s stomach, his eyes locking with Mal’s, drawn from the gun to his Captain’s face indecision wrestling in Mal’s eyes as he stares back at the doctor. Simon can just about swallow, dry mouthed and body leaden; he’s unable to speak, unable to voice his plea. Had he been looking at River he would have seen her still in her struggles, seen her sag against Mal’s shoulder and back as tears flood her eyes, Simon’s name heartbreakingly whispered.

Simon’s body is rising now, standing up, the Captain’s gun following the movement still aimed true and Simon is putting everything into his expression, into conveying his desperate need. He wants River safe, nothing more then what he’s ever wanted, wants her protected and as far from Alliance and Academy as possible. Not bartered, healing and handed back to them to break some more.

Please Mal,

Whether Mal sees the plea in his eyes and chooses to disregard it or if the value of Simon’s life is more then he believes, Simon isn’t sure but Mal’s cocking the gun now, resolve firmly on his face as he pulls the trigger. Simon doesn’t heard the gun fire, doesn’t feel a thing as the bullet soundlessly rips into his ribs tearing through flesh and tissue and out the other side. Blood wells up and soaks through his clothes as his body crashes to the floor, no longer supported by that which held him.

And now Mal’s firing at will; gun flaring and smoking as determination floods the Captain’s face and he advances towards Simon, towards the doctor who lays splayed on the floor unable to see more then the bright blue of the sky, unable to do more they wonder just when the blue will turn to black and the darkness will come. Zoe’s firing now too and Jayne, though Simon can’t see the fury on their faces as they do so, Jayne enjoying setting Vera upon the enemy which approaches. The Reaver which had Simon is only held by the motions of their bullets as they rip into it, making the dead flesh dance in a macabre fashion.

Simon just keeps staring at the blue reminding him of days gone past, of childhood memories spent looking up and wondering about everything that the future would bring, it seems appropriate now that his life should end this way. His eyes are growing heavy, lids half-closing as shadows gather around the edges of his vision and so he doesn’t see nor can feel the rough hands that grab him. The whole world kaleidoscopes into colour as punishing, accusing hands pull Simon roughly up, the air jolted from his lungs as he is swung around, his vision blurring even more. The last image he catches is of Mal carrying River’s limp form back towards Serenity, before Simon’s cheek meets the back of Jayne’s shirt.

And Simon smiles.