A/N: Oh, I forgot ... thanks to Leiasky for the beta!

Kaylee was wrapped in one of Simon’s sweaters, his pillow hugged tightly against her chest. Curled into a ball in the bunk they’d been sharing, she tried to surround herself with as much of him as she could. His scent was everywhere in this room and she buried herself in it, reveling in the memory no matter how brief.

It had been two weeks and there was no word, not from Simon, not from River. And Kaylee was beginning to panic. She’d asked the captain every day since they’d been taken what they were going to do, when they were going to mount a rescue, but Mal was unwilling or unable to give her a straight answer. She knew it was dangerous and more than difficult, but she didn’t care. They had rescued the captain and Wash from Niska for crying out loud. Certainly they had the capability to spring Simon from a Core world.

But no, the captain had taken a job instead, and while it was bringing them a bit closer to the Central planets, he’d made no move or plan to rescue Simon, and Kaylee was done waiting.

Rising reluctantly, she pulled on a pair of Simon’s sweatpants and headed out of the room, an idea that had been taking hold in her mind finally coming to fruition.

---- ----

“You’re a coward and you know it.”

Mal scowled wickedly at Inara’s comment, but held his tongue. She was right, and while it bothered Mal to no end, he also knew he had no right to disagree.

“It’s not that you can’t go after Simon and River, it’s that you won’t.” Inara’s chest was heaving with anger, her brown eyes blazing as she stared at Mal. They had been having the same argument almost every night since the Tams had been gone. At first, Inara had assumed that Mal was picking the fight on purpose; that perhaps if she insulted him enough he would mount a rescue just to spite her. But apparently, he simply liked to hear her call him names, because weeks had passed and there was still no plan.

“I wish you’d stop sayin’ that,” he muttered, dropping onto her sofa with a sigh. Taking a deep breath, he looked back to her and said, “And I wish you’d tell Kaylee that I’m doin’ my best.”

“I won’t lie to her, Mal,” Inara explained, dropping a bit of the anger from her tone, but not all of it. “She knows better. She knows, and so do I, that something is stopping you.” Pausing, she waited a minute, hoping he might confess of his own free will. When he didn’t, she prompted, “It’s just that neither of us can figure out what it is.”

“I ain’t gonna lose more crew!” There he’d finally said it. If Inara and Kaylee and the rest of the gorram ‘verse wanted to interpret his trepidation as fear then fine. But at least he’d finally gotten it out in the open.

“But we already have, Cap.”

Turning, Inara and Mal saw Kaylee standing in the doorway, wearing Simon’s clothes, if the cut and fit were any indication. The girl looked as if she were swimming in them, but neither of her friends said a word. They knew it was simply a way for her to feel close to him and Mal and Inara were not going to deny her that comfort now.

Entering the shuttle, she crossed her arms over her chest and said, “We already lost two more of our crew, Captain. We gotta get ‘em back.”

With imploring eyes, Mal took her gently by the shoulders and said, “Mei mei, please understand. This ain’t like-“

“Like what?” Kaylee challenged, feeling some of her heartache-fueled anger rising to the surface. “Like rescuin’ you from Niska? Like fightin’ a complex full o’ Reavers? Like knockin’ over an Alliance hospital? Like outsmartin’ an Operative?” When Mal had no answer, Kaylee continued. “’Cause we already done all them things an’ lived to tell the tale, so I’m thinkin’ there’s more here than just you not likin’ the odds.”

Mal’s mouth moved soundlessly as he fought to regain his voice. She was one hundred percent right and Mal felt awful for waiting so long. “Kaylee, the clearances we’d need, the supplies … the list is endless an’ we don’t got the coin.”

“We got friends, Cap,” Kaylee reminded him, unwilling to back down. “We’ve always made due before an’ we can make due again.” Searching his haunted blue eyes for some sign of acceptance, she told him, “Unless you really don’t wan’ Simon an’ River back. But I’m tellin’ ya now, if’n that’s the case, I’m off next time we hit dirt.”

Inhaling sharply at the threat, Mal backed away from her. He knew it was not an idle one; she would stay true to her word. He glanced to Inara, but all she offered was a shrug. “Don’t look at me. I agree with her completely.”

Exhaling heavily, Mal headed for the door, feeling well and truly defeated. How could they even hope to do this? “I’ll see what I can do, Kaylee,” he told her softly and with another sad smile to them both, he was gone.

Kaylee stared after him for a moment, before turning to face Inara, a mischievous smile on her face. “Good, he’s gone.” Taking her friend’s hand excitedly in her own, she told her, “I got a plan.”

---- ----

Regan knocked lightly on River’s door, trying not to be overly concerned. It was already mid-morning and her daughter had yet to emerge from her room. Regan had guessed that she needed some rest, as she had looked absolutely exhausted the day before and all through the evening. But it was almost lunchtime and now Regan was worried.

“River? Sweetheart?” she called quietly, pushing the door open. Glancing about the dim interior, she noted that the room was empty and that the bed had not been slept in. Her heart pounding with worry, she shut the door swiftly and called, “River? Where are you, sweetheart?”

Praying that she had not run away, Regan went in search of her, but didn’t need to look very far. Letting out a sigh of relief, she entered Simon’s old room, the space almost completely devoid of anything that would have indicated he’d once lived there. Only memories remained now, mostly good memories, but just memories.

“River?”

From where she sat at the head of the bed, the covers pooled around her pajama-clad form, River looked towards her mother with a curious gaze. She had a book open in her lap and a few captures scattered about her as well. “Good morning mother,” she said softly, going back to her reading.

“Good morning.” Entering the room, Regan sat gingerly on the edge of the bed, reaching for the book. River simply let her take it, her hands resting in her lap. “The Once and Future King.” Running her hand along the worn cover, Regan smiled slightly and said, “This was always one of your favorites.”

“Simon wanted to bring it with him,” River said quietly, waiting for her mother to again look at her before continuing. “He was looking for it that night, when father made him go.”

Reaching for River’s hand, Regan squeezed it tightly and told her, “No, River, that isn’t how it was. Please give your father and I a chance to explain.”

Shaking her head once, River said, “You don’t have to explain, I already know what happened.”

Releasing a heavy sigh, Regan closed the book and said as gently as possible, “River, I don’t know what Simon’s told you, but there is more to it than that.”

“Simon didn’t lie, mother.” River’s voice left no room for argument and Regan was surprised by the forcefulness of her tone. “In fact, he didn’t even tell me anything. He didn’t want to. Didn’t want to remember, didn’t want me to hate you for not coming for me.”

Inhaling sharply, Regan shook her head and murmured, “River, please. You don’t know what you’re saying.”

Pushing off the covers, River rose and paced across the room. “No, mother, I do. I do know what I’m saying. Simon didn’t tell me anything, I read it from him. I read his mind.”

Silence filled the room, almost suffocating Regan with its weight. Gasping for air, she shook her head and denied it. “River, that’s, that’s crazy.”

Nodding once, River crossed her arms over her chest and said, “I already told you I am.” As Regan struggled to find words, she said, “I’m crazy, not Simon. You have to let him go.”

A few tears welling in her eyes at her daughter’s sincerity, Regan rose on shaky legs and rounded the bed. Cradling River’s face in her hands, she whispered, “River, what has he done to you?”

“Not him, mother,” she said again, placing her hands over Regan’s and holding them to her cheeks. “Them. The Alliance, the Academy. It was an experiment, I was an experiment.”

Shaking her head, Regan backed up, wanting to flee the room, unable to make her feet move fast enough. “No,” she murmured, more to herself than anyone. Sinking to a chair across the way, she let her head fall into her hands. “No, your father and I checked it out. We asked for references. It was the best school.”

“It was a lie.” River let the statement hang in the air, watching and reading her mother as the older woman struggled to deny her words. With a small sigh, she moved forward and knelt before her. “I know you believed you were doing the right thing, just as you believe you’re doing the right thing now, but it’s not right, mother.” As Regan’s eyes studied her face intently, she continued. “Simon did nothing wrong. Please stop punishing him, stop punishing us.” Grasping her hands firmly, she whispered urgently, “Why can’t you just love us?”

Stifling a sob, Regan held her daughter’s intense gaze for a second more. “We do love you, River. Both of you, we just …” Unable to finish the statement, Regan finally said, “What you’re saying cannot be true. Simon’s convinced you of a very dangerous lie. We need to bring an end to it.”

With a disappointed stare, River backed up, shaking her head violently, her unkempt hair swinging about. “No, mother, it’s not a lie. It’s the truth.”

Rising, Regan hastened for the door. “We’ll discuss this more when your father gets home,” she told her quickly, needing to be gone.

Things were so much worse than either she or Gabriel had assumed. Simon had successfully deluded River into believing his fantasy world, Regan knew that now. How else could she explain her daughter’s assertions that she had read minds or that the Academy had been a torture chamber?

Sensing her mother’s betrayal, River took a step towards her and demanded, “I want to see Simon.”

“Later, sweetheart,” Regan answered her, already out the door. “Later.” Shutting it swiftly, she keyed in a lock code, her heart breaking as River banged her fist against it.

“I need to see Simon!” she shouted, her pained voice still recognizable through the heavy wood. “Take me to Simon, mother, please!”

Staggering away from the room, Regan collapsed on her bed bone tired and weary, unable to fathom that she might have lost both of her children for good.

---- ----

“You realize there is no way in ruttin’ hell I am lettin’ the two of you off this boat.” Mal’s statement was only met with withering glares from both women as they finished loading a few more supplies into the shuttle.

Turning a frustrated look to Zoe who stood in the doorway observing it all, he threw his hands up and muttered, “I might as well be talkin’ to a wall.”

“Look, Mal if you won’t do anything, then Kaylee and I will,” Inara told him succinctly, fighting the very real urge to stick her tongue out at him.

“She’s gotta point, sir,” Zoe added quietly, getting another scathing look from Mal in the process.

“Who’s side are you on?” he asked incredulously.

“The side that gets our crew back,” she retorted and there was no missing the disapproval in her gaze. She thought the rescue mission was a long time coming, that was plain. “Wish I could go with ‘em,” she added for good measure, fingering her holstered gun.

“Oh, well ain’t that grand?” Mal was done. He’d had enough of the women on his boat calling him a coward and a bastard and a few other choice epithets that Mal hadn’t even thought Inara knew. But she knew ‘em all right, and apparently she’d also taught them to Kaylee. “I’m tryin’ to save all your sorry behinds an’ the three o’ you wanna go chargin’ after Simon an’ River when, for all we know, they’re back safe in the warm an’ wealthy bosom of their family.”

“I don’t wanna go, Mal.” Of course, Jayne had wanted to know what all the fuss was about and so he’d loped in, standing just past Zoe’s shoulder. “I ain’t got no need to save that doc’s sorry pi gu again.”

“Jayne, don’t help me,” Mal ordered hotly. Turning back into the shuttle to address Inara once again, he stopped short as he looked into Kaylee’s fiery gaze.

“Simon ain’t free as a bird, Cap or he’d be back here by now. He loves me an’ I love him. So’s I asked ‘Nara for some help an’ she agreed.”

“Gladly,” the Companion interjected from where she sat prepping the cockpit.

Shooting her a dirty look, Mal was about to say something when Kaylee’s hand against his chest stopped him. “It’s time for us to be goin’. See ya ‘round.” For added effect she gave him a light shove and then headed to join Inara at the controls.

Never, in all his days, had a dismissal from a woman smarted so bad. “Mei mei,” he called softly, but when she did not turn around, Mal knew it was useless to continue standing there.

In a more than foul mood, he stormed out of the shuttle, pulling the hatch shut with such force he was surprised when he didn’t rip it off its hinges. Listening to the familiar whine of the launch sequence, Mal scowled menacingly once more at the closed door and then turned to go.

Brushing past Zoe and Jayne, he muttered, “Not a word.”

---- ----

Simon was staring at the ceiling in his cell, trying not to think about Kaylee as her memory only caused him heartache, when his father finally came to see him. He had been expecting him of course, a bit sooner actually, but regardless of the timeframe, Simon knew their conversation and its outcome would be the same.

Sitting up, he watched with a cool gaze as the guard allowed him to enter the cell. Nodding once in the man’s direction, Gabriel waited until he was gone before asking, “Are you all right?”

With a sigh, Simon leaned his back against the wall, and shrugged. “What can I say? I’ve got a pretty decent bed, three square meals a day-“

“Enough, Simon.” Gabriel’s tone was hard and Simon stopped talking in spite of his desire to taunt his father. Waiting a beat, Gabriel asked again, “Are. You. All. Right?”

With a sour gaze, Simon told him, “Yes. I’m. fine.”

“Good,” Gabriel said as if Simon’s assertion that he was well nullified the fact that he was being held in a jail cell on charges his parents had leveled against him. Unbelievable. “I want to talk with you about your sister.”

Sitting up swiftly, Simon asked, “What about River? Is she all right?”

Grimacing, Gabriel debated how much to tell his son. It had been a little over a day since Regan had locked the child in her room and while she had emerged that morning and eaten breakfast with them, Gabriel was still concerned that her momentary fit would not be a one-time occurrence.

“She’s fine, Simon for now, but she … well, she threw a temper tantrum the other day, for lack of a better term and it scared your mother.”

Simon did his best to hide the smirk he felt forming. If his mother had been undone by one tantrum, Simon could only imagine her watching River level a room of Reavers. Pushing the thought aside, he asked, “What set her off?”

Flinching at his choice of words, Gabriel said, “Your mother was trying to speak with her about the night you left, after the police station.”

Nodding with understanding, Simon corrected, “Oh, you mean the night you kicked me out and tried to disown me?”

Glaring at him, Gabriel bit out, “I do not appreciate your sarcasm, Simon.”

“Well, I don’t enjoy being held like a common criminal,” Simon responded, gesturing about at his surroundings. “But, here we are.”

Another impasse. Both men glared at one another, their dislike growing in leaps and bounds as the seconds passed. Finally, it was Gabriel who said, “River is convinced that she knows what happened all those years ago.” Pausing as he waited for Simon to admit something, anything, he sighed with annoyance and prompted, “What did you tell her?”

Releasing his own sigh, Simon studied his hands in his lap and said quietly, “Nothing.” Taking a moment, he counted to five and then lifted his chin so he could again face his father. “I didn’t tell her anything. About that night or any other.”

His eyebrows knitting together as confusion overwhelmed him, Gabriel murmured, “I don’t understand. She knew things, knew that you had been looking for that book, knew that your mother and I offered to get you counseling.” Still in the dark, Gabriel asked him, “How is it possible for her to know those things if you didn’t tell her?”

Simon wondered why the man continued to ask questions he did not want the answers to. Gabriel Tam lived in a nice, black and white world where gray was shunned, along with any other color that might make things more interesting. It had always baffled Simon, from quite a young age actually, how his father could ask a question and not give a damn about the answer. That wasn’t how Simon’s mind worked – one asked questions to discover, to learn, to grow, to challenge. Gabriel Tam asked questions to fill dead air.

And he was doing it again. “You won’t believe me anyway,” Simon responded. “You never have.”

With barely contained rage at his son’s insolence, Gabriel took another step forward, actually gloating as Simon tensed at his approach; what had become of him? Leaning down into his son’s pale face, he said quietly, “Simon, you will tell me what is going on with your sister.”

Cocking an amused eyebrow, Simon rose defiantly, glancing about the cell. “Or what?” he retorted sharply, pacing away from his father. “You’ll lock me up? Because in that case, I think you’ve put the cart before the horse.”

“Dammit Simon, this is not a game!” Gabriel could not believe he’d raised his voice and from the shocked look on Simon’s face, he guessed his son was just as surprised.

“I haven’t made you angry, have I father?” the younger man taunted. There was no way he would tell his father what he apparently needed so desperately to know. It would only open up an old scar for Simon, one that had been inflicted the minute his parents had deemed him untrustworthy.

Gabriel stared at his son and had a hard time comprehending that the boy could have Tam blood running through his veins. He was standoffish and insolent, insubordinate and disrespectful, traits Gabriel had seen only a handful of times before. He had also grown up too, in his year away from home. Gabriel could see that, in the way his jaw set when he spoke, in how he carried himself, strong and proud. And it all only proved to drive home the fact that Gabriel no longer knew his son.

“Do you even understand what you did?” he asked finally, his voice much quieter and controlled than before. As Simon continued to stare, his gaze unwavering, Gabriel asked again, “Do you? Do you have any idea what you did?”

Nodding once, Simon replied confidently, “Yes. I saved my sister.”

“And destroyed our family in the process,” Gabriel countered, edging closer. “Because of your idealistic crusade to free your sister from boarding school of all places, you ruined our family name, forced your mother and I to live with such embarrassment we could barely show our faces in public.”

Snorting, Simon turned away. He had heard this song and dance before and it had been old then. “Father, save me your speeches about social standing and appearances. River would have died in that place if I hadn’t gotten her out. Why can’t you understand that?”

“Because there’s no proof, Simon,” Gabriel shouted again, his patience unraveling quickly. “Don’t you see? The only proof you ever had were letters, written by your sister who, more than once, pulled elaborate pranks on all of us.”

“What they did to her wasn’t a prank, Father.” Simon’s tone was even and controlled, but Gabriel started a bit at the look of rage burning in his cool blue eyes. “They cut into her brain, injected her with psychotropic drugs, tried to turn her into a weapon. That wasn’t a prank, and it wasn’t make-believe. It was real.”

Shaking his head, Gabriel strode swiftly towards the cell’s door. “I won’t listen to anymore of this.” Looking back to Simon he said, “You’re obviously so deluded you’ll believe anything.”

“Take River to the doctor if you don’t believe me,” Simon challenged, watching his father’s tense back as he waited for the guard to come. “Any scan of her brain, of her body, will show you what they did.”

Gabriel refused to say anymore. In silence, father and son watched as the guard approached, keying open the door and releasing the older man. Simon knew his chance was gone. Gabriel Tam would sooner cut off his right arm than be proven wrong. Standing with fists clenched at his side, he was struggling to find something else to say that might sway the man, when his father regarded him with sad, empty eyes. “I really am sorry, Simon. I thought we could help you, but I just …” He let the statement die, his gaze locking onto Simon’s face before he turned and walked away.

Slumping back onto the cot, Simon dropped his head into his hands. They really didn’t believe him and they weren’t even going to try. Melancholy welling within him, Simon tipped his head back against the wall, staring at the ceiling and doing his best to dwell on anything other than his current predicament.

---- ----

River was practically on top of him the minute he entered the house.

“You saw him.” It wasn’t a question and the certainty with which she spoke the statement unnerved Gabriel.

Brushing past her, his tolerance level for the day severely tested, Gabriel told her, “Yes, River. I saw Simon.”

“And?” She followed on his heels, entering the parlor and not sparing a glance to Regan who sat reading near the fire.

Fixing a drink, Gabriel remained silent, the only sound in the room the clink of ice cubes in his glass. Taking a sip of the fine whiskey, he sighed heavily, feeling a bit more like himself, before turning to regard her. “You’re brother is very sick, River. My conversation with him just now proved that.”

“Gabriel, what happened?” Regan asked, her wide eyes instantly on her husband.

“Nothing we hadn’t already witnessed, Regan,” Gabriel told her softly, moving to her side and brushing a kiss to her hair. “The doctor should be meeting with him tomorrow.”

River had tuned her father out the minute he’d asserted that Simon was sick. With startling speed, her mind and spirit hurtled themselves through space to Simon’s side, into his current state of mind. He was despairing in that jail cell, knowing that his fate would not be a good one – not if their parents didn’t give him a chance. River thought of Kaylee, as Simon was, and her heart broke a little more for the bright, cheery girl. Simon deserved that happy future they had been heading towards, not the dark and dank one of being stuck in prison – or even worse, a mental institution.

Trembling slightly, River hugged her arms around her waist and said quietly, “No.”

“What was that, dear?” her mother asked, squeezing Gabriel’s hand gently as he perched on the arm of her chair.

Meeting their gazes with a fearful one of her own, River said again, “No, Simon is not crazy. You can’t do this.”

Gabriel rose to hug her, he could see how violently she was shaking, but River held up a hand to stop his approach. Big tears welling in the bottom of her eyes, River said quietly, “You can’t punish Simon for doing what was right. You can’t make him pay for saving my life.”

“River that’s just nonsense, you were at school. Your life was never in danger.” Regan wished she could understand why her daughter and son were so adamant about the dangers River had faced. Rising, she crossed the room to a low table with drawers underneath. Pulling one out, she withdrew a stack of captures and a few pieces of data paper. Moving to the sofa, she reached out a hand to River and said, “Sweetheart, come here. Please.”

Eyeing her with suspicion, River slowly moved to her mother’s side, sitting gingerly. Smiling warmly to her, Regan rested a hand to her cheek for just a moment, before turning back to the captured memories sitting in her lap. “Your school, the Academy, it was a good place with the best teachers and other children who were very smart, like you.” Holding a capture up, Regan thumbed it on and River watched in amazement as she saw her own smiling face beaming up at her. From what she could tell she was standing in front of an ivy-covered building, a bag over one shoulder and her arm linked with another young woman whom River did not recognize.

“This was taken on your first day of classes,” Regan explained. “You sent it to us.”

Her wide eyes again alighting to Regan’s face, her mother dismissed the look as one of confusion and continued, reaching for another slim capture. “And this was your first science fair. You won first place for that-“ Pointing at the large, tower-like creation in the middle of the screen, beside which a beaming River could be seen, Regan finally said, “Well, whatever that contraption is, it won first place.”

Unable to go at such a slow pace as her mother trotted out lie after lie, River grabbed for the other elements in her lap, flipping through them hurriedly. Lies, all lies. The datasheets held grades for classes she’d never taken, the pictures chronicled years she had never lived. Not once did River see the laboratories or white rooms that had been her home, her existence. Not one needle, one scalpel, one mad scientist could be seen in the bunch.

Curling long fingers around the collection of falsehoods River rose abruptly and threw them to the marble floor with such force a few of them broke, while the others just crashed with a hideous noise. Startling both parents, Regan moved to collect the things as Gabriel moved to his daughter, grabbing her firmly by the arms.

Before he could scold her, River screamed at him, “Lies!” Wrenching out of his grasp with more strength than he would have given her credit for, Gabriel watched as his baby girl sobbed heavily and berated both of her parents.

“You believed their propaganda over your own children! You believed them over Simon, over me! You want to punish us for your shortsightedness!”

Turning sharply, River sprinted from the room, making it up the stairs and flinging herself on Simon’s old bed in record time. She was lost now, she knew it. If she could not figure out a way to get her brother back, she would forever be, River Tam, little lost girl, the young woman kidnapped by a deranged brother.

Simon didn’t deserve this and River knew she was once again to blame for his misfortune. If she’d never asked for his help – better yet, if she’d never gone to that school – he wouldn’t be sitting in a jail cell, consumed with worry for her and longing for Kaylee.

Working herself into the tightest ball imaginable, River cried, knowing she needed to exorcise her grief before she could form the plan that would end all of this madness.

---- ----

The young man he was to interview was not what he’d expected. Fairly well-kept, despite his almost three weeks in custody, with bright and alert eyes. He was disheveled of course, a fairly decent amount of stubble growing on his firm jaw and his clothes rumpled and worn, but still not the typical insane criminal and this was what immediately intrigued Doctor Burband.

Nodding once to the guard as he was let into his cell, Burband swung around the chair he’d brought, setting it up in the middle of the empty space. Simon eyed him from where he sat on his bunk, his back resting against the wall, his elbows resting on his knees pulled up in front of him.

Getting comfortable, Burband let the prisoner watch him for a while, allowing him to become acclimated to the presence of another person, before asking, “Doctor Simon Tam?”

Holding his gaze for another moment, Simon finally said roughly, “Yes. And you are?”

“Doctor Keith Burband.” Extending a hand, he wasn’t at all surprised when Simon shook it. The boy had after all been raised on Osiris, he knew his manners. Sitting back again, he asked, “Do you know why I’m here?”

Nodding once, Simon rubbed a hand along the back of his neck and said, “You’re here to ask me a bunch of questions and take notes so that when a judge asks you if I’m criminally insane, you can say yes.”

“So, you’re not insane then?” Burband asked, eyeing Simon closely.

Smirking, Simon told him dryly, “I’m fairly certain that depends on who you talk to.”

“I don’t care about anyone else’s opinions, Doctor Tam,” the psychiatrist told him evenly. “Only yours. Do you think you’re insane?”

Cocking an eyebrow at him, Simon asked, “Isn’t that one of the tenants of being criminally insane? When the criminal himself doesn’t think that he is?”

Smiling slightly, Keith realized he had his work cut out for him. “Doctor Tam, I’m not trying to talk you into circles or back you into a corner.” Leaning forward, he rested his elbows to his knees and added, “I’m simply here to ask a few questions and listen to you talk.” Spreading his hands before him, he told him, “I have no agenda, doctor. I promise you that.”

His gaze was still wary, but Keith could tell he’d made an impression. As Simon continued to try and form an opinion about this man, Burband simply held his gaze, unfazed. He’d had plenty of people, including many a bit more scary than Simon Tam stare him down in the past.

Finally, Simon again extended a hand to the psychiatrist and said quietly, “You can call me Simon.”

---- ----

TBC