Fic: Home (Repost)
Title: Home
Fandom: Firefly
Character(s): Simon
Rating: Pg
Word Count: 518
Spoilers/Warnings: None
Prompt: Firefly Friday - Redux, `#20 Favourite Things`
Disclaimer: Joss rules my 'verse. I bow to his genius.
Author's Note: Dedicated to my first year in student accomodation (not as random and irrelevent as it seems). This hasn't been beta-d so all mistakes are mine, point them out to me if you find them. Constructive criticism is more than welcome.
Home
On Osiris Simon had loved to shower. He would finish a double shift at the hospital covered in sweat and blood and god knows what else, and head straight for the bathroom, sometimes stripping as he went, leaving a trail of clothes behind him. The water was hot the moment he stepped beneath it, following his pre-programmed preferences. It hammered down, hard and hot, leaving his hair plastered over his forehead, and his skin tingling red, the dirt sliding from him.
It was usually dark when he left work. He loved to shower in the dark. When he’d had a good day, or at least better than he expected, he would light a few candles, the soft orange light casting shadows across the small room. But most often he’d make do with the light that shone through the window. The light from the Cathedral.
That was the reason Simon had bought the apartment. It wasn’t the nicest he’d seen; it was certainly well below his limits. There was only one bedroom, a small living room, and the kitchen was tiny, there wasn’t even a proper shower - it had been built into the bath and he had to stand in the tub with the shower curtain pulled.
He could tell that the vendor didn’t expect him to go for it, a young doctor with no responsibilities and disposable income, and when he said he’d take it, she looked at him sceptically and asked if he was sure. But he was viewing at night, after another double-shift, and he’d been sold the moment he stepped into the tiny bathroom with the blue light of the Great Cathedral streaming through the window along the same wall as the bath. Really, how much did space and crisp decoration matter in the face of a view like that and the thought of hot showers looking out at the glowing stained glass windows of the Cathedral tower.
“I’m sure,” he’d told her, “it’s perfect.”
His parents had been appalled. He was, after all, a well paid surgeon, with no debt, and he ought to live like one, not like some poor student. Simon refrained from pointing out that neither he, nor they knew any poor students, but he stood his ground about the apartment. He really didn’t care if James Brennan had bought himself a townhouse, or that Marcus Wu had a penthouse apartment overlooking the park, he just wanted his shower.
It was the first time he’d stood up to his parents about anything, and at the time it had seemed important, a matter of life or death. Now, living at the edge of the Universe, on the run from just about everyone, hiding his sister from even their parents, he realised he’d been right.
If somebody had asked (which they studiously did not), what he missed most about his old life, he’d probably say his job, or his freedom, or maybe, on a generous day, his parents. Locked in a tiny booth with waterproof seals and an impatient mercenary hammering on the door, he knew it would be a lie.
End
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Author's Note: The view from Simon's bathroom is based on the view from my bathroom window this past year.
Fandom: Firefly
Character(s): Simon
Rating: Pg
Word Count: 518
Spoilers/Warnings: None
Prompt: Firefly Friday - Redux, `#20 Favourite Things`
Disclaimer: Joss rules my 'verse. I bow to his genius.
Author's Note: Dedicated to my first year in student accomodation (not as random and irrelevent as it seems). This hasn't been beta-d so all mistakes are mine, point them out to me if you find them. Constructive criticism is more than welcome.
Home
On Osiris Simon had loved to shower. He would finish a double shift at the hospital covered in sweat and blood and god knows what else, and head straight for the bathroom, sometimes stripping as he went, leaving a trail of clothes behind him. The water was hot the moment he stepped beneath it, following his pre-programmed preferences. It hammered down, hard and hot, leaving his hair plastered over his forehead, and his skin tingling red, the dirt sliding from him.
It was usually dark when he left work. He loved to shower in the dark. When he’d had a good day, or at least better than he expected, he would light a few candles, the soft orange light casting shadows across the small room. But most often he’d make do with the light that shone through the window. The light from the Cathedral.
That was the reason Simon had bought the apartment. It wasn’t the nicest he’d seen; it was certainly well below his limits. There was only one bedroom, a small living room, and the kitchen was tiny, there wasn’t even a proper shower - it had been built into the bath and he had to stand in the tub with the shower curtain pulled.
He could tell that the vendor didn’t expect him to go for it, a young doctor with no responsibilities and disposable income, and when he said he’d take it, she looked at him sceptically and asked if he was sure. But he was viewing at night, after another double-shift, and he’d been sold the moment he stepped into the tiny bathroom with the blue light of the Great Cathedral streaming through the window along the same wall as the bath. Really, how much did space and crisp decoration matter in the face of a view like that and the thought of hot showers looking out at the glowing stained glass windows of the Cathedral tower.
“I’m sure,” he’d told her, “it’s perfect.”
His parents had been appalled. He was, after all, a well paid surgeon, with no debt, and he ought to live like one, not like some poor student. Simon refrained from pointing out that neither he, nor they knew any poor students, but he stood his ground about the apartment. He really didn’t care if James Brennan had bought himself a townhouse, or that Marcus Wu had a penthouse apartment overlooking the park, he just wanted his shower.
It was the first time he’d stood up to his parents about anything, and at the time it had seemed important, a matter of life or death. Now, living at the edge of the Universe, on the run from just about everyone, hiding his sister from even their parents, he realised he’d been right.
If somebody had asked (which they studiously did not), what he missed most about his old life, he’d probably say his job, or his freedom, or maybe, on a generous day, his parents. Locked in a tiny booth with waterproof seals and an impatient mercenary hammering on the door, he knew it would be a lie.
End
****************************************************************************************************************************
Author's Note: The view from Simon's bathroom is based on the view from my bathroom window this past year.