Chapter 11

Morning. Supposedly. On a ship, solar time is, as River had once said, vestigial. They can say it is any time they truly want it to be and no one can argue the logic of it. However, the human body likes to function by a clock of some sort, a measurement of time for waking, a measurement for sleeping. In fact, of all the planets and moons colonized, not one of them runs to earth normal days. Teraforming isn’t accurate enough. Which is River’s reasoning for not getting up this supposed morning. It isn’t morning. They just believe it is. So Simon can take his gorram morning and shove it up his pigu. She is staying in bed. Period. Simon goes to breakfast alone. Already there are Zoë, Mal, Wash, Juliet and Kaylee. He smiles and sits beside the mechanic, helping himself to some of the real oatmeal Mal had purchased on Persephone and savouring every mouthful. Real food. The one thing he wishes feverently he had never left behind at home. Home. The oatmeal suddenly tastes like the cardboard it is packaged in. His home. The place he lived for all of his stolen life, never knowing that by being there, being free, he was condemning his sister to what the Blue Sun corporation had done to her. He had tried not to think about it, tried not to realise what it meant. That he should be the one spouting nonsense, the alliance cutting up his brain, taking out who he was. He shouldn’t even be here. Everything he is, he stole from his sister. He looks up from the rapidly cooling oatmeal, appetite disintegrated. Juliet is staring at him intensely. She is a victim of it too. And she probably knows exactly what he’s thinking. “Mostly.” “What?” “I mostly know what you’re thinking. But you’re not as loud a thinker as some people, so it’s harder.” Jayne walks in. “Prime example of the loud thinker there.” “Huh?” Jayne grunts, going over to the other side of Kaylee and sitting down. She beams at him and he puts an arm around her, kissing her forehead. “Mornin’ all.” Zoë and Wash sputter with laughter at Simon’s expression at this. Mal just glares at them, obviously not entirely accepting this situation. Juliet hides a smile in a mouthful of oatmeal. It’s a small ship, yeah, but Simon isn’t the most observant of people. Obviously he needs things paraded around in front of him before he realises anything’s going on. Maybe he would have benefited from a few psychic tendencies.

~*~*~

Later on that day, it is Inara to which Simon confides his confusion. They stand on the walkway, watching Mal and Juliet play with the silver globe ball, trying to get it through the re-strung up hoop. He hasn’t seen River or Book all day, which, far from making the events of the previous evening easier to forget about, seems to serve only to make them more prominent in his mind. But not as prominent as his confusion over Kaylee. “I just don’t understand it. At all,” he sighs, leaning on the railing, eyes following Mal as he body tackles Juliet to the floor, both laughing fit to burst. It seems such an alien emotion to him – happiness. Inara stands, serene as always, also watching the pair play-wrestling. “Which part of this complex web of lies and concealment in particular are you talking about?” Simon smiles ruefully. “All of it, really. But right now, Kaylee. Because I’m trying no to think about the rest.” “Ah, the unexpected pairing of Kaylee and Jayne.” “Yeah. I just… I don’t get it. I thought…” Inara places a comforting hand on his arm, still watching Mal and Juliet wrestling. “You thought that she’d always be there, that even if you didn’t make a move, she’d still stay there, waiting for you.” “That’s pretty much it.“ He runs a frustrated hand through his hair. “Why didn’t she?” “People don’t wait forever, Simon. They move on. If you’re not there for them, they find someone who’s willing to be.” Juliet and Mal collapse, exhausted on the floor, still laughing. Inara’s face clouds over. “Maybe it just wasn’t meant to be.” Simon doesn’t seem to have realised that Inara is no longer really talking to him. He sighs and straightens up. “Thanks, Inara. For everything.” He makes his way slowly down to the infirmary, deciding to look over the data on River, what he did whenever he needed to take his mind out of the world for a spell.

~*~*~

In her room, River curls up in bed. Too many emotions flying around. Hurt, confusion, fear, passion. The first sparks of love. Hard to take. She goes back. Back past the needles, the pain. Back past the blue. To a carefree time. Pulling the covers over her head, she hides from Simon. Twenty, nineteen, eighteen. Can’t find me. She stifles a giggle, knowing it’ll give her away. Thirteen, twelve, eleven. Prime number. Got to be eleven. Won’t work otherwise. Five, four, three, two. Almost there. Zero. Coming to find you. She screams.