Warnings: Altered timeline from 'Ariel', angst, hurt/comfort

Thanks to lvs2read for the great beta and thunder_nari for the great beta and spurring me on.

~

Warm…Simon revels in the heat, would burrow into the softness against his back if his limbs weren’t so leaden. He can’t summon the will or energy to open his eyes at that moment, and he wonders where he is. He hasn’t forgotten the events of Ariel, can remember his own capture, though the events and after are still cloudy. Even recalls the looks on both Jayne’s and River’s faces as they left him behind. As I told them to…

He’s not in his bunk-the mattress there is harder, better support for the back and besides, the ship doesn’t smell this fragrant. It reminds him of Inara’s shuttle, incense and musk, and he inhales deeply, his eyes still closed, not taking the chance that this is a dream or hallucination and opening them will send him catapulting back into reality. Definitely not Serenity, and Simon feels a pang of remorse at that. Funny how an object becomes all the more like home when you’re welcomed, when they come back for you. Or at least don’t throw you out the airlock.

Not a hospital either, no underlying feel of sterility and stench of antiseptic. And he’s not dead. Simon grimaces as his chest protests his large inhalations. No longer a burning tearing pain, no longer such a difficulty to breathe, but it feels unpleasant and uncomfortable taking such deep breaths and he switches to shallow--no longer trying to use his sense of smell. He doesn’t want to open his eyes, to ruin whatever hallucination his broken ribs have brought on. No doubt he’d find himself bundled in some filthy cell, or some dank little room, something over the top and clichéd.

Just a peek…

Simon forces himself to look, pushes away the lethargy, eyes watering and shutting instinctively when bright light assaults. A murmured curse comes from above him, low and feminine, reminiscent of the woman that had forced the tube down his throat. He starts, groan coming before he can stifle it, clamping his lips together as he remembers fingers catching at his jaw, feeling the sting at the back of his throat as he swallows.

“Keep still, Doctor.”

She doesn’t sound friendly, but she’s not the woman from before, Simon can hear it in the inflection of her voice. Exasperated, not indifferent. And he feels resentment at it, opens his eyes, half-squinting at her, though he feels a sense of gratitude as she lowers the light intensity. His vision's still a bit hazy, things vibrate in and out of focus slightly, his head feels like it’s been stuffed full of rocks, his chest quickly following and the taste in his mouth is vile, revolting even; bizarrely enough, as he swallows again, he can hear Jayne’s voice--tastes like crotch--and he pulls a face.

“Feeling light-headed?” She sounds almost concerned and Simon fixes his gaze on her. She’s older than he expected, pleasant faced and when she smiles it’s almost motherly. Simon feels bemusement as she tucks blankets up around him.

I must be hallucinating, brain starved of oxygen perhaps.

Except he doesn’t feel delusional, just tired and aching, head still woolly, and when he closes his eyes for a brief moment, he can feel the ‘verse sinking inwards, wanting to pull him into sleep again. He fights the urge, forcing his eyes open, though his words are a little slurry now. “Where’my?”

“Don’t be thinking on that now, you’ve had a bad accident; we had to put you out for a while, just to keep you from hurting yourself.” She’s checking the IV in his arm now, setting the analgesic flow rate higher. She can’t help frowning at the waking man. She can see he’s fighting, can sympathize with the anxiety he feels; but she doesn’t reassure him, doesn’t explain that they do things differently here. Blue Sun is a more refined organization and, in time, he’ll realize that acceptance is an easier way to go than rejection, than stubbornness. She rubs a small scar on the back of her own hand thoughtfully. They all learn eventually.

Hurting myself, or fighting them? Not that he’d done much fighting, body weakened though his mind was strong. Stronger than River’s, at least right now. He feels a stab of relief just knowing she got away, reassured she is safe from the Alliance. “I should go home.” He gasps as pain shoots up his chest, caught midway between pushing himself up, stubborn determination giving him enough adrenaline to attempt, though it wears off quickly at the pain, and he sinks back down, coughing harshly. Each cough catches at his chest, makes him feel like it’s being ripped in two and he can hear the woman clucking around him, easing him fully down, surprisingly strong, or perhaps he is just oddly weak at that moment.

“If you can’t behave, I’m going to have to sedate you.”

He opens his mouth to protest, but there’s a light sting in his arm before he can. Gaze drawn to it, he catches the motherly smile once more before he slips into unconsciousness, though this time it’s distorted and creepy.