simon_doctor | (no subject)

Kaylee glances up -- she's in the process of rearranging drill bits, and for once there don't appear to be pieces of the engine everywhere.

"Hey, you." A little surprised.

Warm: "Hey."

He glances at the work in front of her. "Where are you up to?"

"Up to comin' up with a new task list, 'cause I'm done with the big-event ones. So I'm takin' a minute to get a little reorganized." A slightly crooked smile. "Could even spend tonight in my own bed."

He breaks into a smile, and moves further into the room. "That's great. Lǐ zàn."

"You're biased," she says cheerfully.

"Maybe," he concedes, "but that doesn't mean I'm wrong."

He finds an empty crate near the tool chest and leans against it, halfway to sitting.

After a moment, soft: "Do you maybe have a few minutes to talk? About something important?"

"Yeah." She glances at him, hands stilling. "What's up?"

He should have practiced how to start this, he thinks distantly.

"I was thinking," still soft, "about your business plans, and about how you didn't want to tell me about them. About why you didn't want to tell me."

"...okay." She looks deeply uncertain.

"And I realized ... there are things I've been afraid to talk to you about, too. Mostly because I didn't want you to think I was worrying."

Kaylee opens her mouth, and closes it.

A little shaky: "Are -- is this -- " She makes herself take a deep breath. "Are... we okay?"

Swiftly: "We're okay."

Simon straightens, takes the half-step to close the distance between them, reaches for her hand.

"But I want to make sure we stay okay, xin gan."

Kaylee closes her hand on his.

"Okay." A little steadier; she offers up a faint smile. "All right."

Beat.

"...meanin' what?"

"Meaning that we somehow have to get past being afraid to tell each other things. I don't know how, I'm not even sure where to start, but -- coming to you and telling you this seemed like a beginning."

Kaylee bites her lip, nods.

"I don't -- what is it you're scared of?"

In exactly that many words, Jordie said; and he's trying to remember now what those words were.

"I'm scared of hurting you," he makes himself say. "Or of making you feel like I'm ... demanding too much of you."

Her hand tightens reflexively on his.

"I don't know what you mean by that, but... okay."

"And --" He pushes his free hand through his hair, distractedly. "I do worry sometimes, and I try not to because I know you don't want me to, but ..."

He breathes out.

"Would it be awful if I said I thought you've been working too hard?"

"Not awful, but..."

Everything about Kaylee -- expression, tone, the way she holds herself -- is radiating blank surprise.

"I thought you wanted me to go with you at the same time."

"I do," he says, "I definitely do, but ... if it's going to be too much to get done without driving yourself to collapse --"

Kaylee looks around, and looks up at him. Uncertain: "I mean, she could fly right now... it's calibration left, mostly. If I was gonna collapse I would've already."

She bites her lip again. "You... really've been worried about that?"

"Not ... not this whole time," he says. "Just. A few times. And I didn't want to say anything, because ... I was afraid that then you'd feel bad about making me worry, and it would just make matters worse."

"Oh," she says.

"I guess I don't see why you didn't think you could say something." Still -- entirely -- uncertain. "I mean, what did you think I was gonna do?"

Another near-soundless exhalation.

"I don't know. Try to hide how tired you were. Try not to let me see even if it really was that bad, so I wouldn't worry."

His smile is small and unsteady. "A little recursive."

...and she can't really argue against that.

(Her expression says it, too.)

Rueful: "Well. Okay." She squeezes his hand. "I just -- I still want to be gone, and I want to go with you, and I wanted to get this taken care of. And I'm sorry for makin' you worry."

(And she's aware: this is a good day, for her, and on the bad ones -- )