Author's Note: We don't see much of Simon and River before the episode Safe, and yet while they seem fairly integrated with the crew then, the previous episodes show them definitely more apart. This story is a set of five oneshots set during the episode Serenity, and is the prequel to a longer story examining how River and Simon start to fit in with the crew.

Simon had never liked the living room, the place where, to all formal traditions, life happened casually. It never really did. The life that happened there was bound by the protective covers on the furniture and the security camera in the upper right corner, and ended promptly at eight o’clock. Whenever he had to be there, Simon always sat where his back would be to that invading camera. But it never seemed to matter, because River loved that room, and so he would end up everywhere in it.

As far as he could tell, the fashionable lines of every piece in that room, and the harmonically coordinated hues, symbols of order to the extreme in Simon’s mind, gave River free range of imagination and wonder. She didn’t like his bedroom at all, and any time she came in was spent in mostly silence. Which was why he was there now, typing quickly as his thoughts spilled out to the waiting keys: so that it would be quiet.

Too quiet, perhaps. Down the hall he did not hear small footsteps, but he did hear the plodding of larger ones and a “Slow down, child!”. It was not loud, but in the silence of his room Simon heard everything around him. Several key clicks later, and the sound of water made him look up again, only to shake his dark head and lean back down. He had to get this right; a twelve year old didn’t have a chance, they had said, but he needed this, needed to know that he could accomplish something if he put his mind to it.

A wailing shriek pierced his eardrums, just finally accustomed to the deafening silence, and there was a “River!” and a pattering of feet before his door was flung open and River flew into his arms.

“River?” he queried, putting a hand on her back. She was a very small four-year-old, dripping lukewarm water, entirely unclothed, and shivering frantically.

“Scary monsters, Simon,” she cried, grasping his vest front immovably with two pale hands and threatening to smother herself by how deep her face was buried into his shirt. “Black hairy legs and fangs, fangs, fangs.”

“It’s ok, mei mei,” he said, petting her hair, and wishing he had never shown her the spider carcass that he had examined under a microscope, all its body parts magnified to a hundred times, frightening to the bravest child. “Nanny will kill it.”

“Nanny will do no such thing,” said Nanny brusquely, standing at the door with arms crossed over her chest. “It’s gone anyway, now. River Tam, you will let go of your brother right now and get back into your bath.”

“One minute, and she’ll be there,” said Simon, indicating with his head that Nanny should leave, which she did with a sigh. “River, you’re fine, and besides, spiders can’t hurt you.”

“You’re smart, Simon, you know they can,” said River, looking up at him with dripping nose and eyes, her hair plastered against her cheeks and forehead. “Chemicals and poisons combine to cause trauma and death after puncture wounds.”

“River, I tested the venom of all the native arachnids, and none of them can hurt you,” assured Simon. “Relax.”

“Scared, Simon. Fear can’t be controlled.” There was less sobbing in her voice now, just a little trembling.

Simon’s tone was warm as he brushed her wet hair out of her eyes, “Don’t be so silly, River. I told you, you don’t have to be afraid.”

“Phobias aren’t rational, Simon,” she rebuked, and then hiccupped.

“Um, River, you should finish your bath now,” said Simon, distinctly realizing that his little sister was unclothed and soaking wet.

She giggled. “Sorry Simon. You’re all wet now.”

“Exactly,” he said, and his sigh was half-mocking. Turning back to his computer screen, he once again did not hear as her steps left, but he did hear the splash a few moments later, and his lip quirked a little.

~*~*~*~*~

Here he was, once again, his sister’s trembling form in his arms, but this time he was having a hard time not sobbing onto her shoulder as thoroughly as she was on his. He couldn’t, though, not when his protecting arms were all that were keeping her from collapsing, and he could easily diagnose the symptoms of shock in her.

The captain’s voice broke in, harsh and stern, but at this moment Simon wasn’t backing down.

“This is my sister,” Simon said, not letting the wetness of his eyes overcome the fierce love that should tell the captain that, however poor in a fight he was, he wasn’t going to be bullied into giving up his sister.

The Companion, Inara, glided over, shedding her outer garment, and kneeling by him. “Here,” she said softly, her eyes gentle and pitying.

“Thank you,” he murmured, wrapping it around River in a way that he never let go of her. After three years with little hope, he needed to know she wasn’t going to fade away. She was trembling violently, silently, as he slid her arms into the silken sleeves. “Come, River,” he said, holding her a little more firmly as he tried to stand. But she began to cry again, holding onto him without supporting herself. “It’s all right,” he said again, rubbing his hand in circles on her back.“

“You take care of her then, doctor,” the Captain broke in. “But I warn you, I’m gonna want a right pleasing explanation for why you’re smuggling your sister at supper.”

“I’m not unreasonable, captain,” said Simon coolly. “I’ll speak.” For no apparent reason River let out a half sob half scream, and Simon turned from the crew still standing stricken and squeezed her closer without a word.

Moving slowly, Simon led River towards the infirmary, her feet seeming to gain strength the longer he held her. The pale light flooded out and she stepped back, bringing up her hands instinctively to shield her face, but the tears and trembling had stopped. Looking down, Simon saw bewilderment and withdrawal in her eyes, and worry gripped at his heart. A couple steps more, and she suddenly stopped, pulling away with more strength than he would have thought she could use now.

“No,” she whimpered, “needles, pain, the light’s too bright, it stabs into your mind, blocking out what you used to remember.”

“Shh, shh, mei mei, calm down,” said Simon, bringing her close. “It’s safe here, it’s all right.”

“Hurts,” she moaned, still pulling away from the room.

“Look, River,” said Simon, “look inside.”

River looked, her eyes darting back and forth, but finally resting as Simon had intended on Kaylee’s sleeping form. “Patient,” she said.

“This is a place where people get better, River. No one’s going to hurt you,” said Simon, putting his arm around her shoulder and taking a step closer to the door. To his relief, River did not resist as she looked past him.

Simon paused, glancing at Kaylee, a twinge of guilt gripping him at the lifelessness of her form, but the part of his mind that kept him together pulled his thoughts back to his focus. Thank goodness he had been preparing for when River would come out of cryo. She needed medication swiftly, or the shock would cause more damage than he could deal with at the moment.

“Supernova,” muttered River. “Catastrophic explosion of a sun causing ejection of mass.”

“That’s right,” said Simon slowly, as he led her to the bench, glad she was still capable of River-like speech.

“Not this, though, just a cloud,” she added, looking over his shoulder. “Temporary, don’t worry. You’ll make the sun return.”

Not knowing what to say, Simon chose silence and opened his med kit. River’s gaze was still locked on Kaylee, the warm brown of the young woman’s hair clearly the most homey piece of the cold blue-white of the infirmary, something to grasp onto in her confusion. Simon took his other hand from her shoulder, and moved a tray to find the medication he was looking for. As he took a hypodermic needle from its package, River’s eyes darted back to his hand, and she breathed in swiftly.

“No,” she cried, tears welling up, arms coming up protectively.

Simon quickly set the needle down, and put his hands on either side of River’s face and stroked her cheek with his thumb. He had expected to provide reassurance, but had never expected this; River had never been frightened without reason much. “Mei mei, it’s all right, it’s all safe, believe me.”

“Needles. Sharp. Not safe, not whole,” she murmured, frightened and deadpan all at once, her eyes looking everywhere but at his.

Gently bringing her face down so that their foreheads touched, Simon spoke slowly. “This is to keep you safe, mei mei, not to hurt you. You know who I am. River, have I ever hurt you?”

A painful expression clouded River’s face, and she turned away, fingering the sleeve of her robe. “You thought she didn’t love you anymore, that she forgot,” she said slowly. “Mother said it was expected, it was right, but she was never like that. You didn’t mean to, couldn’t know; it took time. You couldn’t know it was too late.”

An aching in his heart, Simon rested his hand on hers. “It’s not too late, River. You’re safe with me, they can’t do anything to you.”

“You didn’t mean to, you wouldn’t have let them,” she whispered, breathing out. “You’re Simon.”

Simon managed a sad imitation of a smile. “Yes. Simon.”

She said no more, but began looking past him, her gaze erratic and confused but no longer frightened. Taking courage, Simon picked up the needle again and filled it with the medication he had chosen. Pushing up her sleeve so he could administer it, his surgeon eyes noted with pain the thousands of pinprick scars as he injected the dosage. He knew why she was frightened of needles.

“It’s time to rest now, River,” he said softly, letting go of her for an instant to reach for a pillow. “Your body is in shock.”

“Always, forever,” muttered River, but she laid her head down. “Shock, fear. Death.” As Simon put a blanket over her, she stopped talking and curled up a little, a tear coming from one eye. “Simon.”

“Hush,” he whispered, sitting down on the stool by the bench. “Rest now.”

He couldn’t read her gaze as she stared at him, because whether it was the sedative or the shock or her ordeals, there was blankness in her deep eyes. For a moment she just looked at him, and because he couldn’t bring a reassuring smile to his lips he took her hand from where it rested on the grey blanket and stroked it softly. Her expression did not change, and then her eyes closed in sleep.

Simon held back grief of his own. He had known as he made his choices that life would never be similar again, but he had insanely hoped that his sister might be.

Gently letting her hand rest down on the warm blanket, he brushed back a tendril of dark hair that had escaped, and rose. A quick check of his other charge’s vitals, and then he was walking out the door towards the hostile captain and crew who needed an explanation.