simon_doctor | (no subject)

(no subject)

[The morning after this.

He wakes up slowly, blinking at the wall.

The warm weight against his back is Kaylee, still sleeping.

The only trace of his dream he can remember is the chant, the interminable chant from Djose Temple, against a backdrop of slowly spinning stars.

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He may eventually notice a weight at the end of the bed, near his ankles.

River's arms are wrapped around her shins; her brown coat drapes lumpishly over a bedpost. She's watching her brother's face silently.

"...River?"

Simon pulls himself into something vaguely resembling a sitting position, careful not to jostle his sleeping wife; she turns over and burrows her head a little deeper into the pillows, not waking.

"Zăo àn," he says, quietly. "How long have you been here?"

River just watches him for a minute more before she says anything, her face unreadable in the slanting sunlight.

Then, "It's morning."

"Yes."

Closer to sitting up properly, now. He rubs some of the blear out of his eyes.

"Shh. Let's not wake Kaylee."

River's eyes flick to Kaylee for a moment: the curve of shoulder gilded by morning sun, the tumble of brown hair across the pillow.

Softly, "I can bring you breakfast."

That gets a smile. A genuine one, if still a little tired.

"Xiexie, but I should probably get up."

River's eyes lift to his, and her face lightens just slightly in response.

"I won't make the toast."

Simon chuckles quietly at that, and pulls back the covers to slip carefully out of bed.

His clothes have been left in a neatly folded pile on the chair. Kaylee must have done that before falling asleep last night.

"I'm sorry I didn't make it back to the ship last night. Kaylee told you all where we were?"

River looks down -- distracted by something on the blanket, perhaps, rather than upset.

"I counted."

"On the tiles."

It's too early in the morning to ask for clarification.

"All right. Good."

Simon picks up his pile of clothes, and steps behind the folded screen to start getting dressed.

River turns her head to stare at the wall beside the screen.

She's patient.

After a moment he emerges, and heads for the bathroom.

And stops in the doorway, looking at last night's clothes draped over the edge of the tub.

"Everything's white."

River's voice is soft, just barely enough to carry.

Her hand spreads slowly against the quilt. "Sparkles."

"Yes."

One hand on the doorpost. He's still not moving.

"You're upset."

River's head cants slowly sideways. There's nothing in her face but a sober, studying compassion.

"Stop. Backtrack. Play it in a loop until it changes."

"Five of them. There were five."

It comes almost simultaneous with what he actually says aloud, almost soundlessly: "I shouldn't be."

River just watches her brother, and waits.

He glances over his shoulder at her, and manages a smile.

That gets a momentary shadow of very mild exasperation.

After a moment, "You know. But you don't."

The smile twists at one corner, in resignation.

"That's about the shape of it, yes."

River's eyes drop, and she says nothing for a minute. Her fingers work slowly against her ankles, twist and tighten.

Then, "All you could. Brilliant doctor. Fast and right but. Sometimes they win."

"He didn't mess it up."

His throat closes hard, unexpectedly, and he has to press hard against his closed eyelids to stop the sudden threat of tears.

"No."

River looks up at him.

After a moment, her mouth twists, sad and fond.

"So don't be a dummy."

It doesn't make the lump in his throat go away, or the strange hollow bewilderment at the bare facts of last night.

But it does get a somewhat more heartfelt smile.

"Thanks, meimei. I'll try not to be."

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