simon_doctor | (no subject)

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The ship isn't really any quieter than usual, he tells himself.

It's the truth: at this hour of ship's night, in their bunk with the door closed, it's always this quiet. There's the constant low hum of the engine, and the almost subliminal vibrations through the floor of River moving quietly about in her room across the hall, and little else. When there's no crisis aboard the ship, this level of quiet is normal.

It doesn't change anything.

Simon sits on the edge of the bed, his forgotten shirt hanging loosely from one hand, and stares at the far wall.

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That answers that.

There's a difference between refusing treatment and actively killing someone (though of course the end result is the same).

Very, very quiet:

"You would have gone in and taken care of him. Later. Is that it?"

"It wouldn't even have had to be later. The wrong medication, the wrong combination of medications, too much of the right one...."

His throat moves with a hard swallow.

"Half a dozen ways, without even thinking about it. Two of them probably wouldn't even be noticed as deliberately inflicted. Maybe not even by another doctor. And even if they were, he'd still be dead."

Simon's hands aren't clasped anymore; they're tucked into his armpits, as though cold.

Kaylee understands, now, why Mal -- back before Miranda, back before the Academy, even -- wanted them to see him as Mal, and not 'the captain'. She comprehends.

Because the question here and now: does she respond to Simon as someone concerned about staying on good terms with Bernard and Security, and ask those questions that must be asked? Does she, in other words, respond as the acting captain?

Or does she respond as his wife?

Kaylee turns, and moves the few steps to stand next to him where he's sitting, and rests the back of her hand against his cheek.

"You stepped back."

His hand comes up to clasp hers.

"I had to."

"It was the right thing." She rests her other hand at the base of his neck.

Simon lets out a long, long breath.

"I shouldn't have said that about the infirmary, though," he says, low. "That was ... I overreacted."

"I'm guessin' tempers was runnin' hot, on all sides." Gently. "And there's nobody hasn't done somethin' they regret. He'll get that."

It's easier just to fix one problem at once. One thing at a time.

"I don't know how to explain it to him." Still low. "He may want to take me off the medics' registry, before this is over."

"Maybe I should be the one to talk to him, then." The hand at the base of his neck rises; now she's stroking his hair. "Try to smooth things over."

"Maybe." His voice goes apologetic. "I hate to send you to apologize for me, but ...."

"Right now that's my job."

Very, very quietly.

Right now. As acting captain. Yes.

"I should have told you sooner. I'm sorry."

"Qin ài de." She sits beside him, hand falling away. "It's okay. No harm done."

"No harm done," he repeats, almost inaudibly.

"That was the point. To do no harm."

"And you didn't."

"...No. I didn't."

He turns slightly to put an arm around her.

She kisses his cheek, and turns in a little. "Come here?" Half a question as she rests a hand on his side, meaning to hold him close, if he's amenable.

He is. Oh, he is.

"Love you."

"Love you, too." Her arms tighten around him; it's almost a sigh.

He hasn't needed a hug this badly in quite some time.

It's nearly a full minute before he says, a little reluctantly: "We should sleep."

"Can't say I'm opposed." Kaylee pulls back a little, and kisses his forehead before standing. "I'll be back in a minute?"

"All right."

It's a little more than a minute (say sorry) before Kaylee comes back, pajama-clad and hair pulled back, and slides in her side of the bed.

She looks at Simon with a little concern, but mostly love.

"It's okay." Gently.

"I know."

He reaches to shut off the light, and turns just slightly to slide an arm around her.

They started out sharing a much smaller bed. By now Kaylee is used to the feeling of Simon's breath on her neck.

Tonight she lies awake thinking about the last year, and how in the hell they survived it all, and why all this is worse.

Mostly, though, she's thinking about Simon, and Niska, and how much of a difference there really is between letting someone die and actually killing them.

Before she closes her eyes for good, she thinks, sleepily, You think you know somebody you love, and then it turns out you do.

And then she draws the blanket tighter over their shoulders, and Simon pulls her closer in his sleep, and Kaylee settles into a dream about flying kites with Anthony and Andronicus Crowley both.

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