A/N: Yes, I know – ‘a one-shot from TamSibling? Is she feeling all right?’

In truth, this idea came to me in December after I finished watching the R. Tam Sessions in their entirety. I very rarely (READ: never) right mid-series, but this story only works in that timeframe. Truthfully though, this is probably right after the series, maybe in the time directly before Those Left Behind - Inara and book are still on the ship at any rate.

Now, as for the ending … I have no excuse, I don’t know where it came from. I blame Kaynara, well … because I can – but it’s really me. If you’d like further explanation on this odd pairing I’ve written about, check out my newest blog, where I explain myself. That said, if you don't like even the vaguest hint of slash, don't read it.

Oh, and here’s a crazy idea – to let me know that you did like it – COMMENT! We all know I’m not above begging and we also know it ain’t pretty! And while I love comments, if you don’t like Mal/Simon as a pairing or anything slashy, don’t read this. It is NOT graphic at all, but I know some can be offended by the mere idea. You have been warned twice. No whining if you read it now – I wash my hands of you.

Thanks to Kaynara for the beta.

Sleeping was a necessary state, but not one a warrior often succumbed to. She found it annoying that she was deep in her dreamscape, her consciousness trying to fight through thickets of conjured bogeyman and imagined horrors.

Sleep brought disorientation which begot confusion which in turn caused defenselessness which then rained down weakness which almost always led to failure.

Pushing and shoving her way past cold, dark rooms with trays of needles and faceless, blue-handed men, River Tam awoke, staring at a non-descript ceiling. Her neck ached from the hard surface she was sleeping on, while her arms felt heavy, too weighty to move with any fluidity. Taking a deep breath, her mind automatically ran through the training they’d taught – brainwashed – her with.

Assessing each pressure point and bodily system for its functionality, her very bright brain soon came to the realization that she had total range of movement – and no one was guarding her.

She had already deduced she was in a medical suite of some kind and she was not surprised – it was where most of the experimentation and testing was done. She had grown accustomed to the cold, sterile rooms and the inevitable pain they wrought. She had long ago grown used to the gnawing loneliness and terror that ate away at her insides; she was actually fairly certain it had eaten them away all together.

She did not mourn their passing.

Turning her head slowly so as not to draw suspicion, she glanced first to her left and then to her right. She froze as her eyes alighted on the back of someone’s head. Dark hair, decent enough clothing, but no lab coat, no blue gloves. What game were they playing with her now?

Deducing that she could move of her own accord, she silently slipped one leg off the table, feeling her bare foot touch the cold floor before she pulled the other one down to follow suit. Pushing herself into a sitting position, she noticed for the first time the clothes she was wearing. It was not the gray and silver jumpsuit they were so fond of, but rather a billowy dark purple dress that floated over her malnourished frame.

Pushing aside the inconsistency, River stood, her muscles tensing as she waited for someone to stop her. When no one came, she attacked.

One sinewy arm wrapped around the man’s neck, her hand reaching across to grab her other wrist, locking him tightly against her and crushing his windpipe. In less than thirty seconds, her jailer was down, a crumpled heap on the floor at her feet.

Crouching low, she wasn’t even breathing hard. She waited to the count of ten for someone to come running and sedate her. Drug her and tie her up and perform more tests. No one came.

Rising, her muscles coiled under pale skin, ready for a fight. Once one obstacle has been neutralized, find a weapon and tackle the next.

Her eyes found a scalpel on the counter before her. Reaching for the sharp instrument, she curled her fist around it and then headed for the exit.

It was time to get out of this Academy.

River Tam’s slender foot crossed the threshold from the lab, connecting with metal grating that had seen better days. The room was empty, save for a moth-eaten sofa draped with an equally moth-eaten afghan. Hugging the wall, River stayed to the shadows, her back pressed against cool metal.

She could feel the ship humming through her skin. Closing her eyes briefly, she listened on a level beyond hearing. Midbulk transport, standard radon-accelerator core, classcode 03-K64, Firefly.

They had never put her on a ship before, but she knew by the sounds and the smells that this was a real transport, not a simulated environment. Their computers were good, but there was no possible way they could reproduce such an old vessel, such desolate surroundings – such a smell.

Inching along, her hand stayed pressed against the metal, the feel of the ship beneath her fingers and toes grounding her to this reality. Not the reality from her dream, not the alternate reality she sometimes retreated to while the Blue Hands were conducting their experiments. No, this was Real. Real beyond anything she’d experienced in the last two years.

Did it mean she was free? She’d prayed and wished and begged for escape. She had not tried to fool herself into waiting for salvation that would never come. But she had been convinced that one person would find her – the only person in the ‘verse she knew she could trust completely.

Simon.

She knew he’d figure out the letters, knew that the shadowy man spoke lies. Simon would not forget her, Simon would not abandon her – Simon would come for her.

Where was he?

The sound of boots clanging on metal came from her left and she darted around the nearest corner easing into the large, cavernous cargo bay. The room’s lights were dim and she deduced it must be nighttime. The steps got louder and were soon joined by voices getting nearer.

Eyes wide, River looked for cover and scrambled up the nearest flight of stairs. Once she was overlooking the bay below, she grasped the scalpel firmly in her hand while hoisting herself onto the railing. If this was a game, constructed by the Blue Hands, then the only bargaining power she had was her life. If it wasn’t, if this was all real, then she assumed her new captors would be just as threatened by her willingness to harm herself. She would use this knowledge to find out where she was and more importantly, where was Simon.

Holding the scalpel against the skin of her wrist, she stared at the room below and waited.

“Didn’t Simon warn you about overdoing it?”

Mal frowned mightily, even as Inara continued to fuss over him. He had already promised her he’d go see the doc, what more did the woman want exactly?

“Doc says a lot o’ things, ‘Nara. I ain’t never pretended to listen.”

Pausing at the foot of the stairs near the infirmary, Inara pressed her lips into a thin line, not at all amused. “Now you’re just being difficult.”

Flashing her one of his most charming grins, Mal shrugged lightly before heading for the infirmary. “Hey doc, seems your stitch work leaves somethin’ – Wo de ma!”

“What?” Inara rushed into the room at his outburst, her eyes widening with fear as she watched the captain lean over Simon’s inert form. Going down on her knees next to him, she took Simon’s hand, feeling for a pulse. As she found it, she asked, “What happened?”

Shaking his head, Mal wasn’t rightly sure and at the moment it wasn’t his biggest concern. “Simon,” he called, his voice far harsher than he intended. Damn it, what had happened and why hadn’t he heard something? Slapping the man’s pale cheek, he called his name again. “C’mon Simon, rise an’ shine.”

Blue eyes fluttered open, foggy from unconsciousness. Simon blinked rapidly, trying to bring everything into focus. Trying to understand why he was lying on the floor of the infirmary and why Mal was leaning over him, far too close for comfort. Was the other man actually panicked? If Simon didn’t know any better he’d have been convinced that the look he saw in Mal’s eyes was clouded with concern.

And why was Inara trying to help him sit up and offering him a glass of water?

“Drink this, Simon,” she intoned quietly, easing him up and holding the glass as he sipped.

Trying to swallow he almost spit out the liquid, his throat burning from the effort. Gingerly touching his Adam’s apple, he winced as his fingers came into contact with overly sensitive skin. “What happened?” He grimaced again as the effort to speak was almost more painful than swallowing.

Frowning, Mal took his other arm, working with Inara to get Simon back on his feet. As he leaned the doctor against the medical bed in the middle of the room, Mal took a step back, forcing himself to let the doc stand on his own two feet. Boy was strong enough, didn’t need Mal hovering like a mother hen. Arms crossed over his chest, he answered Simon’s question, “I was hopin’ you might be able to tell us.”

Shaking his head once, Simon continued to rub at his sore throat. Medically speaking it wasn’t doing him any good, but at least it gave him something to do. When he offered no information, Mal pressed on. “We ain’t landed doc, so it had to be somebody on board. You piss Jayne off again?”

Scowling, Simon breathed, “No.” Sighing heavily, he slouched further against the bed at his back, suddenly feeling exhausted.

And in the next second, he straightened, his eyes wide with fear. “River.”

“C’mon Shepherd. Ain’t nothin’ better to make you sleepy but a nice workout.” Jayne was glad he’d convinced the older man to spot him, despite the lateness of the hour. They’d been sailing through the black for going on two weeks and his hand was no longer relieving his tension.

“If you say so, son. Although the Lord does-“

The Shepherd paused in mid-sentence and Jayne turned to look at him. He never usually complained about the preacher sermonizing to him – not like Mal. “What s’matter, preacher?” he joked, grabbing his towel and heading for the weight bench. As he approached he noticed that the man’s eyes were fixed above him, staring at something on the catwalk above.

Frowning, Jayne stepped to his side and followed his gaze, his own eyes becoming glued to the sight. “Ta ma de,” he breathed fiercely, the warrior muscles under his skin tightening instantly.

River was up there – feng le girl was holding a scalpel to her wrist looking more crazed than Jayne had seen her. And that was counting the time she’d slashed him across the chest. “I think I should go find her brother,” the Shepherd intoned softly, taking a step towards the common room.

“Don’t move.”

River’s voice was commanding and quiet and made Jayne’s blood run cold. Her eyes stayed fixed on them both as she ordered, “Neither of you will move from where you are standing until you tell me where I am and why you have brought me here.”

“O zhe zhen shi ge kuai le de jin zhan,” Jayne bit out, glancing to the Shepherd from the corner of his eye. “I din’t think the girl could get any crazier.”

Ignoring the other man, Book addressed her calmly, “River, you’re on board Serenity. Your brother brought you here after he rescued you from the Academy. Do you remember?”

Both men saw her hand falter a bit at the mention of Simon, but in a second the vulnerability was gone, replaced with anger. “You cannot trick me by speaking of my brother. Tell me where I am.”

“Oh hell, moonbrain, the man’s a gorram preacher for Chrissake! You think he’s gonna lie to you?” Jayne was more than angry. Since when had it become his job to set River’s mangled mind to rights.

Tilting her head to one side, River Tam’s wide brown eyes flitted up and down the Preacher’s form. “Not a Shepherd,” she deduced after a moment. “Not always.”

Waving off the statement as further proof of her heightened insanity, Jayne muttered, “Great. Now what?”

“River!”

Mal’s bellow was never hard to hear, but at the moment it was laced with so much anger, Jayne was certain his ears were ringing. Stalking out from the common room, Inara on his heels and Simon right behind, Mal’s face was screwed up into a look of pure rage.

Holding up a hand, Book stopped Mal’s approach. “I’d stay where you are, Captain. We seem to have a bit of a situation here.”

Pausing in mid-stride, Mal’s brows knitted together as he tried to understand. Slowly, his eyes traveled upward, catching sight of River standing on the railing over the catwalk. His anger faded in an instant and was replaced by fear – for River, not of her.

Inara gasped audibly as she too caught sight of the wayward child, her eyes wide with concern. “River,” she breathed, moving towards the stairs, but Mal’s strong grip on her wrist stopped her.

“Don’t,” he intoned quietly, meeting her gaze with his steely blue eyes. Inara paused and then nodded, taking a step back and turning for Simon. “Simon, what-“

But the doctor was gone.

Intriguing. These men and one woman were not what River had been expecting. While the large mercenary certainly posed a threat and the Shepherd hinted at one, she could not deduce what motive any of them would have for kidnapping her. She would not do their bidding and could take down any one of them – or all of them – with a few well placed gun shots and a stab wound.

“You will tell me where I am and what you want,” she intoned evenly, her eyes still fixed on the Shepherd and the mercenary. Raising the scalpel so that it glinted in the dim lighting, she pressed it back to her wrist, applying enough pressure to break the skin. “Or I will kill myself.”

Mal glanced to Inara, his eyes clouded with concern while hers only reflected fear. They both knew River as more than capable of making good on her threat. Where in the tian xiao de was Simon?

“River,” Mal called, his voice firm, but friendly. “I wanna talk to you lil’ one.”

Furrowing her brow, she stared through the grating below her, making out the man’s maroon colored shirt and brown suspenders. He had no insignia or rank to speak of, but the way the others deferred to him told River he was in charge.

“Identify yourself,” she ordered, ignoring the thin line of red now visible on her wrist.

“I’m Captain Malcolm Reynolds,” he said, his voice clipped like a soldier. “This here is my boat, Serenity. An’ you an’ your brother are guests on it.”

River felt her heart beat speed up at the Captain’s words. Simon was here. Was that possible? Was it another trick? Was she … Closing her eyes for a moment, River’s head swam as she struggled to fight through her disorientation.

From below the crewmen watched her sway, Mal and Inara rushing out from under the catwalk to get a better look. As River’s eyes remained closed her body leaning dangerously off balance, Mal headed for the stairs, stopping as Simon reappeared from the infirmary and shook his head once. Against his better judgment, Mal backed away, watching as the younger man raced up the stairs towards his sister.

Where am I? River’s mind was spinning, her dizziness causing her features to pale as sweat poured off her forehead and down her back. She reopened her eyes, bringing the cargo bay back into focus. There were people below, people she could not recognize. Why was she here?

Biting her lip, River scanned her memory for something familiar – anything familiar. Nothing came. Letting a small whimper escape her lips, she glanced down and saw the scalpel in her hand. She felt nauseous and knew she must once again be having a reaction to the drugs they had injected her with. Why would the Blue Hands put her here? Why would let her have a weapon?

Pushing the ‘whys’ aside, River didn’t care. For some unknown reason she had the means to end the pain and suffering, to end her own life and take away the Academy’s control.

She would take it.

With tears clouding her vision, she raised her wrist, pressing the sharp blade further into her skin, deepening the small cut she’d already made. She watched with disinterest as more blood poured down her arm, a drop or two making its way to the grating.

She vaguely heard the assemblage below imploring her to stop, but she ignored them. She would no longer be fooled by the Blue Hands and their games. She would no longer be their pawn.

Lifting the blade to strike again, she froze as another voice cut through the cacophony.

“River.”

Simon hurried up the stairs, approaching his sister as quietly as possible. The last thing he wanted to do was scare her into falling. He doubted that any of the crew below would be fast enough to catch her, and the fall would surely kill her.

His gut churned uncomfortably, a wave of nausea threatening to manifest in dry heaves. Pushing it aside with a deep breath, Simon made it to the catwalk, freezing at the top of the stairs. He watched as River closed her eyes, a tear or two slipping down her pale cheeks from behind the tightly closed lids. He could see the sweat forming on her brow, could see the way her arms and legs were shaking from the adrenaline rush that was no doubt fading. He could see the way her hand reaffirmed its hold on the sharp scalpel, still pressed dangerously close to her wrist.

Swallowing hard, Simon took a cautious step forward and then another. He could not watch this; he had not forsaken everything to let his sister slip away from him. He would not let her succumb to her psychosis. Simon Tam was not certain of many things in the ‘verse, but his conviction – to heal his mei mei – was absolute.

It was this unwavering conviction that allowed him to ignore the sharp pounding of his heart against his rib cage, the roiling of his gut, the tremor in his hands. He would not give in to the fear her felt, the unyielding knowledge that not only had he failed his sister once, by letting her go to that Academy, but that he was more than likely failing her again by not finding a cure.

He was close to her now, close enough that he could see the new line of blood that ran down her arm as she sliced deeper into her perfect, pale skin. Swallowing thickly past the lump of fear that wedged itself in his throat, Simon intoned quietly, “River.”

Simon saw her freeze, saw her movements still. She did not turn to face him, but tilted her head towards him as if trying to determine what she’d heard. “Mei mei, it’s me,” he assured her, taking another hesitant step forward. He was almost close enough to touch her, to wrap an arm around her waist and pull her down. But he didn’t. He simply stood a hands-breadth away and kept talking. “Mei mei, it’s Simon. Please come down from there.”

“Simon.” She whispered his name and Simon did not miss the note of disbelief in her voice. She remained perfectly still for a moment and then shook her head, readjusting her grip on the scalpel and drawing another line on her skin. “You’re not real.”

Fighting back the fear he felt, Simon told her firmly, “Yes, River, I am. I am real. You have to get down.” He watched as she calmly cut on herself. “River, please, stop.”

She ignored him, the shadowy man’s words ringing in her ears. “Your brother is very busy.” She knew what he’d meant though – River knew the shadowy man had been trying to spare her feelings. He had wanted to tell her Simon didn’t care, that her brother was too busy with his own life to be bothered by his mei mei.

“Stupid little sister, always in the way,” she mumbled, and Simon froze, listening as the words spilled from her lips in a torrent. “Always correcting, always telling. Liked June Chang and Molly O’Donnell, but wouldn’t tell. Got mad when little sister did. Sister meddled, cheeks got red, eyes got angry. ‘Stupid little brat, always trying to show off. Just leave me alone!’”

Simon closed his eyes and let out a breath, trying to release the shame he felt as River threw his own words back in his face. “That was a long time ago, mei mei,” he reminded her, his eyes no longer watching the blade, but now watching her profile. “I was very young. I should have never said those things. I didn’t mean them.”

“Did,” River told him, nodding, but still not looking in his direction. “Did mean them, meant every word. Meant more, more that was said in the silence of your heart. Wished to be an only child, wished mother and father had stopped at one. Wished River would wander away and never come back.”

At the moment Simon wished he hadn’t been such an idiot at fourteen. “River, please,” he breathed, the pain of her recollection evident in his tone. “Please forgive me.”

River froze, the scalpel hovering over a stretch of as yet unmarked skin. Tilting her head to the side, she waited a moment and Simon felt his lungs constrict as he refused to breathe. Please get down, mei mei, please.

“Doesn’t matter. You’re not my brother.”

The words stung and Simon actually staggered back a step as they registered. Apparently unaffected by the deep hurt she’d just inflicted, River chose instead to switch the scalpel to her other hand, starting to cut thin, straight lines along the opposite arm.

“Doc?”

Simon heard Mal’s voice and reluctantly tore his eyes from River, glancing through the grating to meet Mal’s intense gaze. “You want us to do somethin’ particular at this juncture?” Simon’s eyes followed Mal’s hand as it rested casually on his holster, and the doctor’s features blanched to a ghostly white.

Shaking his head swiftly, Simon told him, “No, Captain, thank you. I think River and I are close to reaching an understanding.”

“No, we’re not,” his sister added unhelpfully, still staring at her bleeding arms. “Not my brother. Don’t have to do anything you say.”

Fighting back the bile that was rising in his throat, Simon again focused all of his attention on River. Taking another step forward and then another when she did not react, he questioned, “River, why would you say that? You wrote me those letters. Do you remember? You asked me to come for you. And I did.”

River’s movements had frozen again as Simon spoke. She still refused to face him or move from her precarious perch, but at least her hands had stilled and she was no longer drawing red lines into her pale skin. Simon let out the smallest sigh of relief and then waited for her to say something.

River could not sort out fact from fiction. She heard Simon’s voice, felt his fear and his love and his concern. And his desperation; she felt that most of all and it enveloped her whole almost choking her with its stench. What if this man was really her brother? What if it wasn’t a trick or a game? What if he had finally come and she was safe? Why didn’t she feel safe?

Feeling her arms trembling as the blood loss finally became too much, River dropped them to her sides, her chin resting against the top of her chest. “He told me you were busy,” she finally said, her voice tiny. “Told me you didn’t love me anymore. Told me I was all alone.”

The anger Simon felt towards the Academy came in daily waves and River’s words simply brought the tide to shore faster than normal. Squaring his jaw, he took another step towards her and said firmly, “I have always loved you, mei mei. You will never be alone.” When she didn’t react to the statement, Simon took a risk and moved closer. Closing his hand around her wrist, careful not to press on any of the cuts there, he whispered, “Please, River, tell me you believe that.”

River’s eyes filled with tears as the confusion from her mind cleared to give her a blessed moment of clarity. She glanced hurriedly about the cargo bay, wondering why she was balanced on the railing, why her arms were hurting so much, why she was holding a scalpel and why the rest of the crew was staring at her with equal amounts of horror and concern.

River sagged backwards, her body losing all of its fight. Thankfully, Simon was there. His arms hooked together, he caught her around the middle, lowering her to the grating. Resting her shoulders against his knees, he took the scalpel from her hand even as River began to cry. “Simon, I don’t know what I’m saying. I never know what I’m saying.”

“Shh, mei mei, I know. I’m here.” Simon pulled her into an embrace, burying his face in her hair to hide his own tears. How long could she go on like this?

How long could he?

Pushing the despair away, he rocked her gently. Mal’s appearance opposite him, his medkit in hand, caused the adrenaline already coursing through Simon’s veins to pulse. Those blue eyes that had often flared at Simon with anger were now conveying an emotion the younger man had seldom seen. Only occasionally, when Mal was interacting with Kaylee or even Inara did he ever look on someone with such compassion.

Swallowing back his discomfort at Mal’s proximity and the intensity of his gaze, Simon smiled his thanks, before gently pulling away from River and lying her back down. Reaching into his pocket, he took out the syringe he had prepared before, causing River to thrash about.

“No, Simon, please. Please don’t make me sleep, please!”

Her pained cries echoed through the ship and Simon tried to shush her again. “Mei mei, I have to. You need to rest.”

Shaking her head back and forth violently, River’s tears splattered against Simon’s shirt and Mal’s pant leg. “No, Simon, please.” Hiccupping, she fought for breath and managed to choke out, “Makes the dreams come, the blue hands come for me. Take me away, hurt me.”

“No one is going to take you away, River,” Simon promised, leaning over her, his hand against her cheek. “I swear to you. I will not let anyone hurt you again.”

“Then don’t give me the medicine,” she whispered, her hand curled around his forearm with surprising strength.

Horrified at her implication, Simon dropped the needle to the floor. He barely registered the small clanging noise it made as River relaxed against him, her eyes closing as she finally allowed the tension to leave her body. “Thank you, Simon,” she murmured, her eyes fluttering open after a moment and filled with so much love Simon thought for sure it would consume him on the spot.

“I love you, mei mei,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

River held his gaze, her hand glancing across his face, outlining every feature. As her fingers trailed down his jaw, she ghosted over his neck and noted the purpling skin. “You’re hurt,” she murmured, her brows knitted in concern.

Taking her hand in his, Simon squeezed it gently and whispered, “I’m fine, mei mei.” Kissing her hand quickly, he placed it back at her side and reached for the gauze and antiseptic Mal had patiently gotten ready. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

Mal watched in silence as Simon worked, his voice low and soothing as he tried to lull his sister into a relaxed state. The ease with which those pale hands moved further convinced Mal of how talented Simon was. However, the tension around his eyes and the tight muscles under his crisp shirt convinced Mal of something else – Simon was reaching his limit. As his sister’s condition deteriorated, so did Simon’s will. Mal wondered why his heart should hurt so much at the realization.

“What happened?” Kaylee’s wide green eyes studied Simon, River and the rest of the crew as they slowly followed the doctor and his traumatized sister into the common room from the cargo bay.

Unable to answer, Simon simply offered her a faint smile, before steering his sister towards her bunk. Kaylee watched them with sad eyes, noting the tension in Simon’s back and gait as he supported almost all of River’s weight.

Jumping slightly as she felt a hand rest against her arm, Kaylee turned to meet Inara’s expressive brown eyes. “Everything’s fine now, Kaylee,” she explained, ignoring Jayne as he rumbled by, mumbling something about the “gorram moonbrain.” “River just gave us all a bit of a scare.”

“I was workin’ an’ I heard her screamin’. I figured she was havin’ a nightmare again.” Kaylee was miserable. She hated to see other people hurting, hated to see anyone unhappy, but with River and by default, Simon, it was almost a natural way of being. And Kaylee hated that even more. Glancing to her friend, she asked quietly, “Is Simon okay?”

Sighing heavily, Inara glanced in the direction the siblings had disappeared. As the image of Simon’s face as he had tended to his sister just a few minutes ago came to mind, Inara knew the answer to Kaylee’s question. Meeting her friend’s concerned gaze, Inara ran her fingers through chestnut hair and whispered, “No, mei mei, he’s not.”

Shivering slightly, Kaylee wrapped her arms around herself, grateful when Inara hugged her to her side. “Ain’t right, ‘Nara,” she said quietly, sighing heavily. “Ain’t right for two people who are so good to suffer so much.”

Pressing a kiss to Kaylee’s forehead, Inara whispered, “I know, mei mei. I know.”

Hours later, Simon backed slowly out of River’s room, careful not to wake her. It had taken him almost a full two hours to get her to sleep, the last thing he wanted was to rouse her.

Sliding the screen to her room shut, he turned and headed for his own bunk. Not bothering to close the door, he flopped face down onto his bed, feeling the hot tears of failure and despair already wetting his pillow. Burying his face into its softness, he cried unabashedly, the events of the night and River’s words echoing through his mind in a never-ending onslaught that made him equal parts angry and miserable.

Curling his fists into the pillow, Simon tried to stop knowing how weak he was being. He couldn’t afford this: couldn’t afford to give into the hopelessness he felt. He had to keep it together for River. But despite his determination to stop, his sobs just came harder, his shoulders shaking from the intensity of the emotions.

He felt the bed dip slightly right before he felt gentle hands resting on his shoulders. Simon jumped, ashamed to be found in such a compromising state, however the hands were working magic, kneading muscles that had been bunched together too long. He gave into it for a moment, assuming Kaylee had come to visit him. However, his sense of propriety would not let it go on for long. Lifting his face towards the wall, he wiped hurriedly at his cheeks, knowing it would do nothing to hide his appearance, but trying all the same before taking a deep breath and turning to face his visitor.

His breath caught in his throat as he met Mal’s intense, blue-eyed gaze. Mal smiled weakly at him, his hands continuing to knead at the knots in his shoulders even as Simon struggled to pull away.

Sitting up fully, he inched towards the end of the bed, breathing hard as he watched Mal, his expression almost unreadable. Swallowing thickly, Simon struggled for words, wishing he hadn’t stopped the man’s impromptu massage – yesu, it had felt good. In his wildest dreams, ones he was certainly not proud of, Simon had imagined those hands relieving the tension from every part of his body and his cheeks flushed now as those images came roaring back.

“Din’t mean to startle ya, doc,” Mal said softly, his hands clasped between his knees, his eyes on the young man only a foot away who refused to look at him. “Jus’ wanted to see how you were farin’.”

“I’m fine, Captain.” Simon’s voice was much steadier than he’d thought it’d be and he thanked Buddha for small favors. He could not let Mal know how much his mere presence affected him. He could not give in to the fantasies he’d been dreaming about. Rising, Simon crossed his small bunk – the space seemed undeniably smaller with Mal’s large presence filling it – and leaned against the wall. Arms crossed over his chest, he tried to feign nonchalance and feared it just came off as ridiculous. “Your concern is unnecessary, but thank you.”

Simon’s eyes slid meaningfully to the door and then back again, and Mal knew the younger man wanted him to leave. But he also knew that what Simon had experienced today, with his sister, had shaken him. Mal had seen the paleness of his features when he’d handed Simon his medkit, seen the slight tremor in his hands he’d tried to hide as he tended his sister’s wounds. He had seen the utter despair crease his youthful features as he’d painstakingly helped River back to bed.

“Your sis – is she-“

“We’ll leave, Captain.” Simon cut him off. He had no desire to be dismissed by this man; in truth, Simon feared his rejection more than just about anything else. Months spent on board under Mal’s protection had made Simon long for the chance to get lost in it. He had tried so hard to pretend it wasn’t true, that he was strong enough to help his traumatized sister and himself, but it wasn’t the case. He wasn’t strong enough and if it hadn’t been for Mal’s presence in his bunk at this moment in time, Simon knew he would be sobbing himself miserably to sleep. “I don’t honestly believe River is a danger to the crew, but-“

Holding up a hand to stop him, Mal sighed heavily and then rose. Standing only an arm’s length away, Mal stared into Simon’s blue eyes. They were shot through with red, showing both his fatigue and the tears he’d been crying before Mal’s arrival. He wanted to help him, didn’t the boy get that? No, he ain’t a boy, Mal chastised himself. In truth, Simon was a stronger man than many of those he’d served with in Serenity Valley. And if he hadn’t known it before, his handling of his sister tonight had certainly proved it.

“Did I say I wanted you gone?” he asked, his tone a cross between scolding and exasperated. As Simon shook his head slowly, Mal continued, his voice lowering to a rumble that sent a shiver down Simon’s spine. “Exactly. So that ain’t what I was gonna say. An’ don’t put words in my mouth.”

“Then why are you here, Mal?” The defeat in Simon’s tone was almost palpable, and for the first time since he’d entered the room, Mal saw Simon’s defenses drop. The mask he usually wore, the one that feigned disinterest and aloofness slid off of his young features to be replaced by sadness, tiredness and … Mal inhaled sharply as he identified the last emotion, his hands resting gently against Simon’s shoulders as he met his gaze once more.

“Ain’t nothin’ to be scared on, Simon. Your sis is gonna be all right. You’re doin’ all you can.”

“It’s not enough!” Simon’s loud shout echoed through the passenger dorms. Stomping to the door, he all but slammed it shut, rattling the screen in its frame as he paced in front of it. The tiredness was gone now, replaced by tension as Simon’s hands clenched into fists at his sides. “She is not all right, Mal,” he bit out, pausing to fling a hand towards the door and River’s room beyond. “She could have killed herself tonight. She could have killed any of you. She could have-“

“She coulda done a lot o’ things, Simon,” Mal intoned quietly, causing the younger man to seethe in silence as he continued. “But she din’t. We stopped her.” As Simon’s eyes alit to his face, some of the anger receding, Mal added, “You stopped her.”

“I almost didn’t.” The admission was so quiet, Mal was almost certain he’d imagined it. Watching Simon intently, his chin tucked against the top of his chest, Mal saw his shoulders rise and fall with a heavy sigh. He watched as that head of dark hair lifted, tragic blue eyes again meeting Mal’s and welling with tears he knew the doctor was ashamed to cry. “I almost didn’t,” he repeated, his voice barely more than a rasp before he fell onto the end of the bunk, his face buried in his hands.

Mal studied him for a second, noting the way his shoulders shook as he tried to control his tears. Gorram doc was so stubborn he couldn’t even admit that this, this release was what he needed. Din’t the boy know keepin’ things bottled up only caused ‘em to blow? Seemed like somethin’ he should know, bein’ top three percent an’ all.

Hell, even Mal knew that.

Mal sat beside him, lifting a hesitant arm, and draping it across Simon’s shoulders. He tried to tuck the younger man into his side, but Simon fought him, pulling his hands from his face and staring at Mal with such naked despair it stole his breath away. “Why are you here?” he hiccupped, wiping hurriedly at his cheeks even though he knew the time for appearances had long passed.

Hand on his shoulder, Mal held his gaze in silence and then said, “’Cause my medic can’t seem to figure out that he ain’t alone.” As Simon’s ears pinked and he again glanced to his lap, Mal slid a finger under his chin and brought Simon’s swollen eyes back to his. “You can’t do it all, Simon. It jus’ ain’t possible.”

My name. Simon swallowed thickly as he realized Mal had spoken his name. It happened so rarely. Taking a deep, shuddering breath, Simon bit his lower lip and leaned cautiously into Mal’s side as if afraid the other, sturdier man might vanish at any minute.

However, Mal was there for the duration. Wrapping his arm firmly around Simon’s shoulders, he guided the doctor’s head to his shoulder, resting his cheek against Simon’s soft, dark hair. Bringing his other arm around to embrace Simon firmly, Mal whispered, “She’s gonna be okay. Ya both are.”

The words were Simon’s undoing. Coupled with Mal’s closeness and the assuredness of his strong form, Simon could not hold it in any longer. Curling his hand into Mal’s suspender, Simon turned his face into his shoulder, his tears soaking the worn burgundy fabric of Mal’s shirt. The captain held tight, shushing Simon with whispered words of comfort as his body shook with keening cries.

As they stayed in the awkward position, Mal felt the wound in his side smarting. Gently, so as not to disrupt Simon and break the comfort of their embrace, Mal eased down on the bunk, Simon snuggling in at his side. Ai ya, the boy was warm and soft and solid in all the right places and Mal tried to ignore the heat that shot down his side as Simon nestled in closer, his head still resting on Mal’s shoulder, his arm having fallen around the captain’s waist.

Simon was so tired. He knew the minute Mal moved he should have told the captain to go. But he couldn’t do it. Simon had been pretending for so long that he didn’t need anything and he was tired of the lie. Mal’s warmth and strength were like the most soothing balm to Simon’s pain and despair and he reveled in it, wishing he knew a way to bottle it for when he awoke tomorrow and it was gone.

He felt sleep coming, knowing that the added comfort of being held would soon send him off to his dreams, but Simon still had a shred of decorum. “You don’t have to stay,” he slurred, his voice heavy with sleep.

Smiling softly, Mal bent his arm at the elbow propping it under his head, as his other hand stroked softly up and down Simon’s arm. “Yeah, I do,” he whispered against his scalp and smiled again once he heard Simon gently begin to snore.

Translation: O zhe zhen shi ge kuai le de jin zhan - Oh, this is a happy development tian xiao de - In the name of all that’s sacred

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