simon_doctor | (no subject)

(no subject)

"River?"

Five minutes. He was gone from the infirmary for barely five minutes --

River's gone. And one of the cabinets is hanging open, its former contents scattered over the floor, vials and packets and syringes.

Simon whirls to stare down the hallway. She couldn't have gone far, unless --

Not in her room. Not in his room. Not in the lounge.

Milliways? oh god please let it be that simple--

His voice scales upward, uncontrollably. "River?"

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"Miranda."

Her face twists, and she laughs softly. It's bitter, half tears and all pain.

"Ask her."

"She'll show you all."

"Show us what? Who is Miranda?"

A pause, and his eyebrows furrow.

"...am I ... talking to Miranda now?"

...A Look. Capital letter included.

It says, very eloquently, Don't be a moron.

A wry smile touches his face, just a little.

"No. Right."

He picks up her hand (it hangs limp in his, unnaturally relaxed), and very carefully begins wiping the blood off her knuckles.

"But I think ... somehow when they triggered you, it brought this up. This memory."

"It isn't mine."

She focuses on him. Tears swim in her eyes.

"The memory." Her voice is choked with pleading -- It's not fair, it says. It's not fair. "I didn't bring it and I shouldn't have to carry it. It isn't mine."

She's crying again, or maybe still. In a begging whisper, "I don't want to sleep. Don't put me to sleep."

"Shh. I won't."

"Put a bullet to me."

Laughing and crying together, now, tinged with hysteria, as she rolls her head to look away from him. Most of her body is still limp and heavy.

"Bullet in the brainpan. Squish!"

He reaches to take her face between his hands, and turns her back towards him.

"Don't say that. Not ever."

His voice is low, and firm, and barely shakes at all.

"We'll get through this."

She meets his eyes.

"Things are going to get much, much worse."

He takes her hands, and holds them.

"The captain will think of something. We'll --"

"He has to see," she interrupts.

"More than anyone. He has to see what he doesn't want to."

A pause.

"River?"

He clasps her hands a little tighter, in a preemptive gesture of comfort.

"What will Miranda show us?"

There's a long silence.

Softly, "Death."

"...Whose death?"

Silence, again. And then she starts to laugh.

Or maybe it's crying.

It's both, together, all tangled up. She's laughing harder and harder, tears pouring down her face.

"Everyone's!"

She catches her breath on a harsh gasp of a sob.

"Oh, God..."

"Shh, River...."

He pulls her into a hug, rocking back and forth just slightly.

"Shh."

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