simon_doctor | (no subject)

(no subject)

Chittenden's behind them, Shadow ahead.

The mobile-clinic circuit on Chittenden used up some supplies; Simon's in the infirmary, late in the night shift, running down his checklists.

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"Your position."

Simon's frowning just a little.

"You're a personified force of nature. I don't think I can grasp your position in anything but the most general way."

She shrugs, a little.

"And it's bad, when a personified force of nature starts liking people, wouldn't you say? I mean. Liking people in general is one thing, but liking specific people? Not so good."

For a moment he doesn't say anything.

The thing is: he agrees. In principle. A force of nature shouldn't ... play favorites. Shouldn't be anything but consistent. Shouldn't change on a whim.

Shouldn't be a person.

That's not something you can say, or even think with any degree of comfort, when one of them is talking to you.

"That being said. This is the way it is."

If it wasn't, they wouldn't really have a pilot right now.

Nor a mechanic. How many times is it now, after all, that Dream has saved Kaylee?

There's the sticking point; there's the little hitch. He can't very well object to the Endless on purely ideological grounds only when they do something that hurts him.

"And you don't make the rules," he says quietly. "So who does?"

She just smiles.

"Please, I.... This isn't a rhetorical question."

Simon takes a step toward her, his hand leaving the chair back and falling to his side, his voice just a little tight with something that isn't anger. It might be frustration.

"Is there someone who makes the rules? Is there someone checking up to make sure you follow them? Or is it just ... consequences and, and laws of nature? Laws of metaphysics? If you don't make the rules, where do they come from?"

"Kiddo... there's stuff out there that even I don't want to look too closely at. And that's all I can tell you."

For a moment he wants to echo his earlier words -- that's bizarre; you're Death.

If the unfathomable is unfathomable to her --

In a strange way, that's almost comforting.

"I see."

His gaze drops away from her face. "Thank you."

There's a tiny sliver of a smile.

"Whatever for?"

He's not smiling, but when he looks up again his gaze is direct and clear.

"For coming to talk about this. In person."

"Well. You're welcome."

There's a ghost of a smile there somewhere.

There's a short pause.

That turns into a longer one.

"Ennis," he says finally, to the floor.

She bites her lip.

"Yeah."

The man does not have long.

"I'd make him comfy, if I were you."

"He won't let me do much else."

It's weary, more than bitter.

"Sounds about like Ennis."

"You know him."

It's halfway a question.

"I know everyone."

And that is a smile, right there. A real one. Wide as the 'verse.

A beat, as he assimilates that.

"And you..."

It's hard to put the words to it, but not for the usual reason; not because he can't find them.

"When he dies. You'll be there."

"I will."

That's what she does, what she is.

"I..."

He takes a breath, and hesitates before saying it.

"I've never lost a patient before."

To the floor again: "I don't know if this counts."

"There's a first time for everything. Hell, it might not count. Whatever helps you sleep at night."

It is what it is.

A rather sharp glance up, at that, until he's sure she isn't mocking him.

"It's my job, though. To keep people from dying."

That's what he does. What he is.

"Does that ... I'm not sure how to say this. Doesn't that put us in opposition?"

She's not one for mocking.

"Everyone dies, Simon. It's just a matter of when."

"And the when ... doesn't make a difference to you, in general."