Firefly: Simon/Jayne: emotions-regret
Title: Ain’t always so cold, out in the Black 4/5
Author/Artist: wildannuette
Theme: 5 stages of love challenge. This one is compassion.
Rating: NC-17 for sensitive scenes more than smut.
Pairing: Simon/Jayne
Summary: A dark day for all of the crew; mercy and compassion sometimes a curse when considering the options. Simon-centric chapter.
a/N: What is it with me and planet names? This one is oddly apt…
Previous parts found here:
Envy
Regret
Surprise
7 months after Miranda
What doesn’t kill us only makes us stronger.
Simon’s not sure he agrees that that particular adage can apply to every person, every place and every time. Every person is different, every situation, every reaction, it can’t all be so neatly categorised into one saying. And Simon’s not sure it’s meant to be, the adage in question is more a stubborn reminder; a nudge to guilt people into surviving, to being eternal optimists than looking at life more cynically.
There’s only so far you can push someone, until they push back.
A more appropriate maxim than the first, one that Simon can’t help putting with the first and with the situation at hand-both neatly wrapping up a mass of trauma and pain the likes of which no one should have to go through. Too neatly wrapping up, yet it’s repeating these mantra’s, using the words to counsel that’s having a more positive outlook.
Simon tries not to laugh at that, managing to swallow the bitter noise with a cough as he strips off the bloodied gloves. So much blood, coopery and congealing, the smell rancid in the warm air. It made a few of the crew vomit at first, Simon had even seen Jayne suppress a gag. Only Simon, Mal and Zoe had remained outwardly unaffected, the horrors of war and injury showing more than enough blood for them to be intimate with the stench left behind. But nothing could have prepared them for what had awaited them, no devastation, no injury, could have prepared them for the depths of suffering and misery they found. The horrors of Miranda and thereafter were merely a preview, Keres was the real thing.
Hands dipping under water, rinsing and drying before Simon pulls on a fresh pair of gloves; assessing the young man he’s to help, looking into eyes dead before their time. Simon isn’t speaking, there’s nothing he can say to help the boy, there’s nothing anyone will be able to say to him, not any more and even if they could he wouldn’t hear it. Simon gently pushes the boys trembling fingers down to his side, watching them curl into fists biting down on his own flesh, the pain a stark reminder; Pain is only felt by the living. The fingers are bloody, the only sign that the boy is injured at first glance, but Simon can see deeper not only the mental torture but that which they boy inflicted upon himself. He’s sedating him now, watching as the boy’s face grows slack, his body sagging, Jayne grasping him under his arms and gently sliding him down.
Simon’s eyes meet that of his lover’s but there’s no time, no place for the feelings that briefly warm his belly and soften his gaze, so he turns his attention back to his patient bending over the boy’s unconscious form.
“I’ll need some more weaves, I’m starting to run very low.” Simon’s voice is soft, addressing Jayne though he’s no longer looking at him, too busy looking at the boy, heart sinking to see he hasn’t the peaceful countenance that slumber should bring; even sedated the tortured expressions still there. Simon carefully turns the boy’s head, gloved hand gently stroking over what remains of his ears, seeing if there is the possibility of salvage. It’s already too late, what little flesh remains has begun to decay, Simon can see he’ll just about be able to reconstruct something close to and ear. His gaze flicks to the boy’s bloodied fingers, understanding the injury, guessing why the boy deafened himself and clawed at his own skin to do so.
“Found him locked in a cupboard, door locked from the outside. Kid’s parents musta shoved him in an’ told him to keep quiet, keep him safe.” Jayne’s voice is quiet, personality muted like the rest of the crews’ given the situation. “Reavers got to them, ain’t left them pretty nor livin’ but kid musta stayed real quiet so’s they didn’t find him.”
“An act of supreme sacrifice given the circumstance,” Given the devastation around them and the acts of cruelty people were capable of inflicting given such a situation, it toughens Simon’s resolve sweeping away some of the tiredness as he checks the boy’s mouth. Teeth are partially worn down but thankfully he didn’t bite through his tongue or made to watch the atrocities. Still Simon isn’t sure the boy’s survival, miracle as it seems, is actually that. He’ll hear the screams for the rest of his life, imagination filing in the blanks; no matter what, no matter when, that’s all he’ll hear and Simon can’t help wonder if the greater mercy wouldn’t be to up the dose of the boy’s sedatives, to give him the only true peace he can.
“Kid ain’t gonna ever forget this an’ get over it, but they ain’t as weak as adult sometimes, easier for ‘em to work past it.” Jayne’s moved closer and is standing behind Simon, holding the weaves Simon should be using to repair the damage he can.
First do no harm, the oath comes to Simon’s mind just as Jayne touches his elbow, undoubtedly seeing the torn expression on his face. This is the only part of being a doctor that Simon sometimes dislikes, not all the time because it’s often necessary and the options are clear cut, but this is a unique situation, one that he has had no training nor planning for. One that had he been nothing more than a trauma surgeon on Osiris, he would have never had to deal with. Which would have left these people without the little relief and help he can give them.
His attention is back on the boy, carefully blocking out all distractions to cut away the necrosed flesh and clean out the boy’s battered ears. It takes nearly half an hour and by the end of it Simon’s sweating, the heat taking its toll on his body though his concentration never wavers.
“He’s as physically fit as I can make him,” Simon wraps a bandage around the boy’s head, covering what’s left of the ears and taking great pains to be as careful and gentle as possible. Unconscious of not, Simon’s not about to inflict any more injury to him and neither is Jayne because the man’s carefully gathering the young man in his arms, taking pains not to jostle him too much.
“Got a couple more waitin’ but they ain’t conscious an’ Zoe says its just bruises an’ broken bones. Reavers didn’t get a hold of ‘em.” Jayne pauses for a moment, before adding, “Get yerself something’ to drink afore I bring ‘em in, ain’t gonna do no good if our only doctor goes passin’ out on us.”
Simon’s lips twitch in the barest hint of a smile, hearing both the truth and the careful concealed emotion in Jayne’s tone, it’s not the place for it but the action is involuntary. “I will, thank you Jayne.”
Jayne merely nods in answer as he leaves the room, still cradling the boy. Simon’s tired now, physically and mentally exhausted. He’s also stubborn to a fault, refusing to stop and rest until he’s healed all he can which is why Jayne’s suggested taking a minute for himself. A minute Simon can’t help but appreciate as he splashes cold water on his face, wiping away the grime and sweat before gulping down some of the refreshing liquid.
He’s not the only stubborn one through, perhaps Serenity should be renamed for her crew is less peaceful and more obstinate, each one refusing to sleep and forcing themselves to eat, both to keep strength and on Mal’s orders. Or perhaps, she’s aptly named, the ship being the only one to answer a plea for help, her crew attempting to bring stillness to chaos.
Simon can’t stay still despite knowing he has precious little time to rest, he’s searching through his med kit checking what he has left what they can spare. It’s almost ironic, I was never challenged this much even on Osiris. Simon remembers how much he’d wanted to feel like a doctor again when he’d first come aboard Serenity, broken bones, stab and bullet wounds being his only real injuries. He remembers how, in his arrogance, he’d wished for more of a challenge, going from such a prestigious position to being merely a medic. How quickly his views had changed after a few months on Serenity, after seeing he could be much more use as their doctor, yet still those words haunt him.
Especially after Miranda, after Wash and Book, I needed to feel like a doctor again. I needed to feel more useful. Maybe to justify not being able to save them, though in all logic and honesty that was impossible anyway, which Simon knows. Yet he can’t help but wonder if reflecting on those words, if wanting to feel like a doctor again, has somehow tempted Fate. Stupid and illogical but still a small voice niggles at the back of his mind, making his stomach clench.
He yelps as a hand connects with the back of his head, slapping him firmly and making him spin around moments before the voice admonishes him, “Can’t will things into happening, you can’t lament on that which’s happened Simon.”
“Reading me again?” Simon shakes his head, more in dispute of his own words than hers. He knows she won’t be, River knows him only to well, there’s no need to listen out for what someone’s already telling you. She’s calmer than she was earlier, coming close to needing sedation herself then. Not through a psychotic fit or hallucination of her mind fragmenting again, but the sheer weight of emotion that had overloaded her. It was bad enough for the rest of them to see and smell what had happened, but River had to face it. Empathy serving to overwhelm her, only meditation keeping it at bay.
“You shouldn’t be here.” Simon’s not only playing the protective big brother, he’s also acting as her doctor, not needing an added complication harsh as it is to think of River as such when her mind is no longer disjointed.
“Everyone has to play their part, I can help these people. I‘ve seen the horror too, seen them here and before. “ River’s eyes drift down to the unoccupied bed, and Simon can see her eyes dilating, the brown colour almost lost in the black. “I can speak where they can’t.”
Simon doesn’t want her to open herself to that horror, wants to bundle her up and get Jayne to take her back to Serenity, which he knows his lover will try to do if he so much as hints to him. Yet River’s looking at him so steadily now, making Simon bite his tongue. She’s perfectly capable of defending herself physically, Simon’s seen that first hand, felt it…his hand moves to his throat. Maybe it’s time to trust her judgement, to let her set her own limits rather than stifle her.
“Inara’s counselling people. I believe she’s in the town hall, perhaps you could go to her and help the people there?” Simon feels a slight sense on loss as she nods, the barest hint of a smile at his acceptance on her face and then she’s gone, helping in the way she knows best.
As they all are. They were drawn for their own reasons, selfish reasons some might see them as, but drawn to the small moon of Keres for nothing more than a job. A less than mediocre job at that, but one that would ensure they all made a profit and one meant to be less taxing than their previous one. Yet the ‘Verse had it’s own agenda for them, changing the location from a small yet thriving town, to one of mass slaughter. The Reavers had left little in the way of survivors and had left as quickly as they arrived, spending only hours enjoying their atrocities. Yet hours were all it took to change the population from three hundred and twelve to thirty three, and one of those was a young baby that Simon delivered from a shattered survivor only hours after arriving. The baby’s arrival, the only bright spark in such a dark day.
They’d almost revoked on the job, though they were assured it was still valid if not more so. The client in question wanting not only all his livestock transported, but what remained of his family and friends too. Unsurprisingly others had balked at the idea, even the Alliance too busy to send the smallest supply and aid ships to help, knowing the likelihood of survivors and the quality of life for them. Them people ain’t right. Simon can almost hear Jayne’s words repeating in his mind, words from months ago, when finding a ship hit by Reavers and what they had at the time classed as a survivor. But Mal had given them the choice, sat the entire crew down and addressed them together.
“Coin ain’t tight enough that we’ve gotta take this job an’ these folk will be payin’ pittance but I ain’t willin’ to just sail on by an’ leave them to it. Now I’m not one to lie and there’s no need to spell it out for you, I conjure you’ve all got a guess at what we can expect but that’s not to say it won’t still be worse. I ain’t orderin’ anyone this time, Keres never been the best place to be an’ right now it’s ten times worse, but I ain’t willin’ to go back on a job or leave what’s left of them to rot.” Mal had paused, eyes assessing each of them in turn before continuing, making Simon flush uncomfortably through he had had no intention of not offering his services. “Anyone not wantin’ to help, stays in their bunk. I ain’t guilting no one into this, don’t have to go through the trauma or the remembrances it’s sure to bring up.”
There had been no need for each of them to answer especially when Zoe put so eloquently into words just what they were all thinking. “Figure you might be right on the remembrances Captain, but I’m thinking we need to help these people an’ I reckon if Wash and Book were here now, they’d be sayin’ that too.” She stumbled a little saying Wash’s name, but held Mal’s gaze leaving a lengthy pause to which none of them had rebuffed her statement.
Jayne’s boot had come to rest purposefully up against Simon’s ,drawing the doctor’s gaze from Mal to his lover; Simon hadn’t even considered that anyone even Jayne who was terrified by Reavers and only Reavers, and often argued even if it was just for posterity, would remain aboard. What doesn’t kill us only makes us stronger.
The warnings Mal had been given hadn’t served them well when they’d landed, the smell of death and decay hitting them the instant they left Serenity. Mal and Zoe had gone to see the man in charge whilst the rest of them helped clear up, bury the dead and help those left traumatised. It had been slow going, especially with River’s moment of panic but they’d worked with those left behind who hadn’t been exposed, those few and far between lucky enough to shut themselves in cellars and not witness nor hear the sounds of pain coming from their friends.
It had been and still is a harrowing experience, though now only the living remain to attend to. The bodies having been burnt rather than buried, fire offering the cleansing those left behind needed. The dead were lucky in a way; violated and viciously massacred as they were, they were at rest. They weren’t left behind, forced to go on living. Simon’s working diligently trying to save those left behind though some were too badly damaged, mentally rather than physically. One soul scarred and crazy, Achilles tendons severed, the survivor had been unable to run or even move away as her loved ones had been murdered.
Shown no mercy and forever trapped in her own madness, the Reavers cruelty far surpassing even the most horrific of human cruelty. There was only one thing Simon could have done, the only mercy he could give her as she raved and ranted, half sedated and yet still wild. He hadn’t wanted anyone to see, it turns his stomach now to even think about it though it had been the own course of action.
Euthanasia. Simon had injected her with air, stopped her heart in a few seconds and watched the snarl die from her lips, peace in her eyes even if it was only in the moment before death.
“We ain’t so different you and I,” Mal’s words had started Simon, made the doctor close his eyes and curse mentally, even as the Captain walked behind him hand on Simon shoulder. “We both kill when needs must but this is a kindness, not a killin’.”
Turning to him, Simon had seen approval in Mal’s eyes, a hollow approval that such an act was necessary but that Simon had been able to do it quickly and painlessly, more peaceful than a bullet, an end more dignified than the Reavers would have given.
“Kaylee’s working’ on makin’ space in Serenity for all these folks an’ their cattle, she’s thinking’ we ain’t gotta make two trips and keep them on edge.”
“They all want to leave?” Simon hadn’t been surprised, not a single house had been unscathed and even though they could be scrubbed clean and repainted, the memory would still remain. It was better for nothing to, nothing but the ash of those lost.
“Ain’t a whole family among them,” Bitterness flashed briefly in Mal’s eyes, as he’d spoken. After Miranda, after the Alliance and Reavers going head to head the Reavers numbers had been severely depleted, attacks were meant to be less scarce yet they’d managed to take out the moons population in one sweep. “Time’s like these, you see people pullin’ together almost warms your heart, than you think on those who ain’t offerin’ what they could an’ it hardens.”
They fought back, that’s why the casualty list is so high. They fought to save themselves. Simon sits up with a start, exhaustion having crept in and almost lulled him into sleep, only Jayne’s re-entrance with an elderly man in his arms jolting him awake.
“Mal says this is the last of ‘em, says to get all of ‘em stable than we’re loadin’ up. Should take only a couple’a days to get ‘em to where they gotta go and there’s more help waitin’ there. Gonna burn the place down, final send away an‘ farewell.” Jayne’s staring at him, as he sets the man on the bed and Simon’s moving quickly. Grabbing his med kit and checking over his patient; Jayne’s hand rests on Simon’s back for a brief moment offering security, energy, anything he can and it’s enough to see Simon through as he concentrates on the patient in front of him, only one thought echoing in his mind for a moment as he works.
Salt the earth.
********
That night Simon comes to Jayne’s bunk, not caring who sees or comments, he doesn’t wait for the others to fall asleep. Most of the survivors have opted for sedation, the rest are comforting their families. Simon’s happily given up his bunk, though it’s not the infirmary he intends to sleep in, not the infirmary he hopes will soothe that anger and frustration and the question that keeps drumming at his mind-why?
He sees Kaylee and River on their way to Inara’s shuttle, both not saying a word just holding each other closely, emotion barely contained on their faces. Both looking more haggard and in need of company than Simon’s ever seen.
Life’s too short.
The thought comes to Simon’s mind as he pauses outside Jayne’s bunk about to press the comm button when he sees the door is half ajar, inviting and beckoning Simon in. He’s pushing it open and climbing down the ladder before he can think on whether it’s really a good idea. But it has to be a good idea because Jayne’s already there, already waiting, sweaty and pale, looking uneasy and shocked as jumps from his bed, striding to Simon and pulling him into arms which still tremble slightly.
Nightmares, Jayne’s having nightmares again.
Simon’s never seen it firsthand, never witnessed Jayne writhing, tormented in sleep and hitting out at imaginary enemies. He’s never heard the muffled cries, nor tasted the salt left over on Jayne’s cheeks when he wakes and he came too late to hear Simon’s name cried out in horse, gut-wrenching pain as Jayne dreamt of the ship infested by Reavers.
But Jayne’s mouth is on Simon’s, tongue claiming him, convincing the both of them that this is real and Simon’s no longer thinking, no longer wondering on anything. All thought swept away in that all consuming kiss.
It takes a few minutes to rid them both of clothes, neither one wishing to relinquish there hold on the other, barely breaking the kiss as they do. Then they’re touching, caressing, biting down on each other and drawing out groans, both needing reassurance, needing each other, needing to feel alive. Falling into a tangle of limbs on the bed, Jayne’s fingers are already lubed and inside Simon, stretching and massaging, preparing rather than teasing and Simon’s pushing back on those fingers impatient and uncaring whether he’s completely ready or not.
Then Jayne slides into him, the slight burn pulling a welcoming hiss from Simon as his legs clamp around Jayne urging him on. Joined as one, Jayne pounding into Simon as Simon pushes back, feeling more whole and alive, lips claiming Jayne’s as they both kiss around the pants. Cock throbbing as he pushes back against Jayne, groaning as the merc hit’s the spot deep inside him, Jayne grasping his leg and pushing it back thrusting in deeper against that spot. Harsh, punishing thrusts that Simon absorbs and clenches around.
It’s rough and fast, over far too quickly and leaving them both collapsed in an achy, trembling heap, both bodies sated. Kisses turning from desperate to slower, calming as they did. Simon can feel Jayne’s heartbeat as fast as his own, beating through his chest as they kiss, his body already achy, but never once has he felt so alive.
Author/Artist: wildannuette
Theme: 5 stages of love challenge. This one is compassion.
Rating: NC-17 for sensitive scenes more than smut.
Pairing: Simon/Jayne
Summary: A dark day for all of the crew; mercy and compassion sometimes a curse when considering the options. Simon-centric chapter.
a/N: What is it with me and planet names? This one is oddly apt…
Previous parts found here:
Envy
Regret
Surprise
7 months after Miranda
What doesn’t kill us only makes us stronger.
Simon’s not sure he agrees that that particular adage can apply to every person, every place and every time. Every person is different, every situation, every reaction, it can’t all be so neatly categorised into one saying. And Simon’s not sure it’s meant to be, the adage in question is more a stubborn reminder; a nudge to guilt people into surviving, to being eternal optimists than looking at life more cynically.
There’s only so far you can push someone, until they push back.
A more appropriate maxim than the first, one that Simon can’t help putting with the first and with the situation at hand-both neatly wrapping up a mass of trauma and pain the likes of which no one should have to go through. Too neatly wrapping up, yet it’s repeating these mantra’s, using the words to counsel that’s having a more positive outlook.
Simon tries not to laugh at that, managing to swallow the bitter noise with a cough as he strips off the bloodied gloves. So much blood, coopery and congealing, the smell rancid in the warm air. It made a few of the crew vomit at first, Simon had even seen Jayne suppress a gag. Only Simon, Mal and Zoe had remained outwardly unaffected, the horrors of war and injury showing more than enough blood for them to be intimate with the stench left behind. But nothing could have prepared them for what had awaited them, no devastation, no injury, could have prepared them for the depths of suffering and misery they found. The horrors of Miranda and thereafter were merely a preview, Keres was the real thing.
Hands dipping under water, rinsing and drying before Simon pulls on a fresh pair of gloves; assessing the young man he’s to help, looking into eyes dead before their time. Simon isn’t speaking, there’s nothing he can say to help the boy, there’s nothing anyone will be able to say to him, not any more and even if they could he wouldn’t hear it. Simon gently pushes the boys trembling fingers down to his side, watching them curl into fists biting down on his own flesh, the pain a stark reminder; Pain is only felt by the living. The fingers are bloody, the only sign that the boy is injured at first glance, but Simon can see deeper not only the mental torture but that which they boy inflicted upon himself. He’s sedating him now, watching as the boy’s face grows slack, his body sagging, Jayne grasping him under his arms and gently sliding him down.
Simon’s eyes meet that of his lover’s but there’s no time, no place for the feelings that briefly warm his belly and soften his gaze, so he turns his attention back to his patient bending over the boy’s unconscious form.
“I’ll need some more weaves, I’m starting to run very low.” Simon’s voice is soft, addressing Jayne though he’s no longer looking at him, too busy looking at the boy, heart sinking to see he hasn’t the peaceful countenance that slumber should bring; even sedated the tortured expressions still there. Simon carefully turns the boy’s head, gloved hand gently stroking over what remains of his ears, seeing if there is the possibility of salvage. It’s already too late, what little flesh remains has begun to decay, Simon can see he’ll just about be able to reconstruct something close to and ear. His gaze flicks to the boy’s bloodied fingers, understanding the injury, guessing why the boy deafened himself and clawed at his own skin to do so.
“Found him locked in a cupboard, door locked from the outside. Kid’s parents musta shoved him in an’ told him to keep quiet, keep him safe.” Jayne’s voice is quiet, personality muted like the rest of the crews’ given the situation. “Reavers got to them, ain’t left them pretty nor livin’ but kid musta stayed real quiet so’s they didn’t find him.”
“An act of supreme sacrifice given the circumstance,” Given the devastation around them and the acts of cruelty people were capable of inflicting given such a situation, it toughens Simon’s resolve sweeping away some of the tiredness as he checks the boy’s mouth. Teeth are partially worn down but thankfully he didn’t bite through his tongue or made to watch the atrocities. Still Simon isn’t sure the boy’s survival, miracle as it seems, is actually that. He’ll hear the screams for the rest of his life, imagination filing in the blanks; no matter what, no matter when, that’s all he’ll hear and Simon can’t help wonder if the greater mercy wouldn’t be to up the dose of the boy’s sedatives, to give him the only true peace he can.
“Kid ain’t gonna ever forget this an’ get over it, but they ain’t as weak as adult sometimes, easier for ‘em to work past it.” Jayne’s moved closer and is standing behind Simon, holding the weaves Simon should be using to repair the damage he can.
First do no harm, the oath comes to Simon’s mind just as Jayne touches his elbow, undoubtedly seeing the torn expression on his face. This is the only part of being a doctor that Simon sometimes dislikes, not all the time because it’s often necessary and the options are clear cut, but this is a unique situation, one that he has had no training nor planning for. One that had he been nothing more than a trauma surgeon on Osiris, he would have never had to deal with. Which would have left these people without the little relief and help he can give them.
His attention is back on the boy, carefully blocking out all distractions to cut away the necrosed flesh and clean out the boy’s battered ears. It takes nearly half an hour and by the end of it Simon’s sweating, the heat taking its toll on his body though his concentration never wavers.
“He’s as physically fit as I can make him,” Simon wraps a bandage around the boy’s head, covering what’s left of the ears and taking great pains to be as careful and gentle as possible. Unconscious of not, Simon’s not about to inflict any more injury to him and neither is Jayne because the man’s carefully gathering the young man in his arms, taking pains not to jostle him too much.
“Got a couple more waitin’ but they ain’t conscious an’ Zoe says its just bruises an’ broken bones. Reavers didn’t get a hold of ‘em.” Jayne pauses for a moment, before adding, “Get yerself something’ to drink afore I bring ‘em in, ain’t gonna do no good if our only doctor goes passin’ out on us.”
Simon’s lips twitch in the barest hint of a smile, hearing both the truth and the careful concealed emotion in Jayne’s tone, it’s not the place for it but the action is involuntary. “I will, thank you Jayne.”
Jayne merely nods in answer as he leaves the room, still cradling the boy. Simon’s tired now, physically and mentally exhausted. He’s also stubborn to a fault, refusing to stop and rest until he’s healed all he can which is why Jayne’s suggested taking a minute for himself. A minute Simon can’t help but appreciate as he splashes cold water on his face, wiping away the grime and sweat before gulping down some of the refreshing liquid.
He’s not the only stubborn one through, perhaps Serenity should be renamed for her crew is less peaceful and more obstinate, each one refusing to sleep and forcing themselves to eat, both to keep strength and on Mal’s orders. Or perhaps, she’s aptly named, the ship being the only one to answer a plea for help, her crew attempting to bring stillness to chaos.
Simon can’t stay still despite knowing he has precious little time to rest, he’s searching through his med kit checking what he has left what they can spare. It’s almost ironic, I was never challenged this much even on Osiris. Simon remembers how much he’d wanted to feel like a doctor again when he’d first come aboard Serenity, broken bones, stab and bullet wounds being his only real injuries. He remembers how, in his arrogance, he’d wished for more of a challenge, going from such a prestigious position to being merely a medic. How quickly his views had changed after a few months on Serenity, after seeing he could be much more use as their doctor, yet still those words haunt him.
Especially after Miranda, after Wash and Book, I needed to feel like a doctor again. I needed to feel more useful. Maybe to justify not being able to save them, though in all logic and honesty that was impossible anyway, which Simon knows. Yet he can’t help but wonder if reflecting on those words, if wanting to feel like a doctor again, has somehow tempted Fate. Stupid and illogical but still a small voice niggles at the back of his mind, making his stomach clench.
He yelps as a hand connects with the back of his head, slapping him firmly and making him spin around moments before the voice admonishes him, “Can’t will things into happening, you can’t lament on that which’s happened Simon.”
“Reading me again?” Simon shakes his head, more in dispute of his own words than hers. He knows she won’t be, River knows him only to well, there’s no need to listen out for what someone’s already telling you. She’s calmer than she was earlier, coming close to needing sedation herself then. Not through a psychotic fit or hallucination of her mind fragmenting again, but the sheer weight of emotion that had overloaded her. It was bad enough for the rest of them to see and smell what had happened, but River had to face it. Empathy serving to overwhelm her, only meditation keeping it at bay.
“You shouldn’t be here.” Simon’s not only playing the protective big brother, he’s also acting as her doctor, not needing an added complication harsh as it is to think of River as such when her mind is no longer disjointed.
“Everyone has to play their part, I can help these people. I‘ve seen the horror too, seen them here and before. “ River’s eyes drift down to the unoccupied bed, and Simon can see her eyes dilating, the brown colour almost lost in the black. “I can speak where they can’t.”
Simon doesn’t want her to open herself to that horror, wants to bundle her up and get Jayne to take her back to Serenity, which he knows his lover will try to do if he so much as hints to him. Yet River’s looking at him so steadily now, making Simon bite his tongue. She’s perfectly capable of defending herself physically, Simon’s seen that first hand, felt it…his hand moves to his throat. Maybe it’s time to trust her judgement, to let her set her own limits rather than stifle her.
“Inara’s counselling people. I believe she’s in the town hall, perhaps you could go to her and help the people there?” Simon feels a slight sense on loss as she nods, the barest hint of a smile at his acceptance on her face and then she’s gone, helping in the way she knows best.
As they all are. They were drawn for their own reasons, selfish reasons some might see them as, but drawn to the small moon of Keres for nothing more than a job. A less than mediocre job at that, but one that would ensure they all made a profit and one meant to be less taxing than their previous one. Yet the ‘Verse had it’s own agenda for them, changing the location from a small yet thriving town, to one of mass slaughter. The Reavers had left little in the way of survivors and had left as quickly as they arrived, spending only hours enjoying their atrocities. Yet hours were all it took to change the population from three hundred and twelve to thirty three, and one of those was a young baby that Simon delivered from a shattered survivor only hours after arriving. The baby’s arrival, the only bright spark in such a dark day.
They’d almost revoked on the job, though they were assured it was still valid if not more so. The client in question wanting not only all his livestock transported, but what remained of his family and friends too. Unsurprisingly others had balked at the idea, even the Alliance too busy to send the smallest supply and aid ships to help, knowing the likelihood of survivors and the quality of life for them. Them people ain’t right. Simon can almost hear Jayne’s words repeating in his mind, words from months ago, when finding a ship hit by Reavers and what they had at the time classed as a survivor. But Mal had given them the choice, sat the entire crew down and addressed them together.
“Coin ain’t tight enough that we’ve gotta take this job an’ these folk will be payin’ pittance but I ain’t willin’ to just sail on by an’ leave them to it. Now I’m not one to lie and there’s no need to spell it out for you, I conjure you’ve all got a guess at what we can expect but that’s not to say it won’t still be worse. I ain’t orderin’ anyone this time, Keres never been the best place to be an’ right now it’s ten times worse, but I ain’t willin’ to go back on a job or leave what’s left of them to rot.” Mal had paused, eyes assessing each of them in turn before continuing, making Simon flush uncomfortably through he had had no intention of not offering his services. “Anyone not wantin’ to help, stays in their bunk. I ain’t guilting no one into this, don’t have to go through the trauma or the remembrances it’s sure to bring up.”
There had been no need for each of them to answer especially when Zoe put so eloquently into words just what they were all thinking. “Figure you might be right on the remembrances Captain, but I’m thinking we need to help these people an’ I reckon if Wash and Book were here now, they’d be sayin’ that too.” She stumbled a little saying Wash’s name, but held Mal’s gaze leaving a lengthy pause to which none of them had rebuffed her statement.
Jayne’s boot had come to rest purposefully up against Simon’s ,drawing the doctor’s gaze from Mal to his lover; Simon hadn’t even considered that anyone even Jayne who was terrified by Reavers and only Reavers, and often argued even if it was just for posterity, would remain aboard. What doesn’t kill us only makes us stronger.
The warnings Mal had been given hadn’t served them well when they’d landed, the smell of death and decay hitting them the instant they left Serenity. Mal and Zoe had gone to see the man in charge whilst the rest of them helped clear up, bury the dead and help those left traumatised. It had been slow going, especially with River’s moment of panic but they’d worked with those left behind who hadn’t been exposed, those few and far between lucky enough to shut themselves in cellars and not witness nor hear the sounds of pain coming from their friends.
It had been and still is a harrowing experience, though now only the living remain to attend to. The bodies having been burnt rather than buried, fire offering the cleansing those left behind needed. The dead were lucky in a way; violated and viciously massacred as they were, they were at rest. They weren’t left behind, forced to go on living. Simon’s working diligently trying to save those left behind though some were too badly damaged, mentally rather than physically. One soul scarred and crazy, Achilles tendons severed, the survivor had been unable to run or even move away as her loved ones had been murdered.
Shown no mercy and forever trapped in her own madness, the Reavers cruelty far surpassing even the most horrific of human cruelty. There was only one thing Simon could have done, the only mercy he could give her as she raved and ranted, half sedated and yet still wild. He hadn’t wanted anyone to see, it turns his stomach now to even think about it though it had been the own course of action.
Euthanasia. Simon had injected her with air, stopped her heart in a few seconds and watched the snarl die from her lips, peace in her eyes even if it was only in the moment before death.
“We ain’t so different you and I,” Mal’s words had started Simon, made the doctor close his eyes and curse mentally, even as the Captain walked behind him hand on Simon shoulder. “We both kill when needs must but this is a kindness, not a killin’.”
Turning to him, Simon had seen approval in Mal’s eyes, a hollow approval that such an act was necessary but that Simon had been able to do it quickly and painlessly, more peaceful than a bullet, an end more dignified than the Reavers would have given.
“Kaylee’s working’ on makin’ space in Serenity for all these folks an’ their cattle, she’s thinking’ we ain’t gotta make two trips and keep them on edge.”
“They all want to leave?” Simon hadn’t been surprised, not a single house had been unscathed and even though they could be scrubbed clean and repainted, the memory would still remain. It was better for nothing to, nothing but the ash of those lost.
“Ain’t a whole family among them,” Bitterness flashed briefly in Mal’s eyes, as he’d spoken. After Miranda, after the Alliance and Reavers going head to head the Reavers numbers had been severely depleted, attacks were meant to be less scarce yet they’d managed to take out the moons population in one sweep. “Time’s like these, you see people pullin’ together almost warms your heart, than you think on those who ain’t offerin’ what they could an’ it hardens.”
They fought back, that’s why the casualty list is so high. They fought to save themselves. Simon sits up with a start, exhaustion having crept in and almost lulled him into sleep, only Jayne’s re-entrance with an elderly man in his arms jolting him awake.
“Mal says this is the last of ‘em, says to get all of ‘em stable than we’re loadin’ up. Should take only a couple’a days to get ‘em to where they gotta go and there’s more help waitin’ there. Gonna burn the place down, final send away an‘ farewell.” Jayne’s staring at him, as he sets the man on the bed and Simon’s moving quickly. Grabbing his med kit and checking over his patient; Jayne’s hand rests on Simon’s back for a brief moment offering security, energy, anything he can and it’s enough to see Simon through as he concentrates on the patient in front of him, only one thought echoing in his mind for a moment as he works.
Salt the earth.
********
That night Simon comes to Jayne’s bunk, not caring who sees or comments, he doesn’t wait for the others to fall asleep. Most of the survivors have opted for sedation, the rest are comforting their families. Simon’s happily given up his bunk, though it’s not the infirmary he intends to sleep in, not the infirmary he hopes will soothe that anger and frustration and the question that keeps drumming at his mind-why?
He sees Kaylee and River on their way to Inara’s shuttle, both not saying a word just holding each other closely, emotion barely contained on their faces. Both looking more haggard and in need of company than Simon’s ever seen.
Life’s too short.
The thought comes to Simon’s mind as he pauses outside Jayne’s bunk about to press the comm button when he sees the door is half ajar, inviting and beckoning Simon in. He’s pushing it open and climbing down the ladder before he can think on whether it’s really a good idea. But it has to be a good idea because Jayne’s already there, already waiting, sweaty and pale, looking uneasy and shocked as jumps from his bed, striding to Simon and pulling him into arms which still tremble slightly.
Nightmares, Jayne’s having nightmares again.
Simon’s never seen it firsthand, never witnessed Jayne writhing, tormented in sleep and hitting out at imaginary enemies. He’s never heard the muffled cries, nor tasted the salt left over on Jayne’s cheeks when he wakes and he came too late to hear Simon’s name cried out in horse, gut-wrenching pain as Jayne dreamt of the ship infested by Reavers.
But Jayne’s mouth is on Simon’s, tongue claiming him, convincing the both of them that this is real and Simon’s no longer thinking, no longer wondering on anything. All thought swept away in that all consuming kiss.
It takes a few minutes to rid them both of clothes, neither one wishing to relinquish there hold on the other, barely breaking the kiss as they do. Then they’re touching, caressing, biting down on each other and drawing out groans, both needing reassurance, needing each other, needing to feel alive. Falling into a tangle of limbs on the bed, Jayne’s fingers are already lubed and inside Simon, stretching and massaging, preparing rather than teasing and Simon’s pushing back on those fingers impatient and uncaring whether he’s completely ready or not.
Then Jayne slides into him, the slight burn pulling a welcoming hiss from Simon as his legs clamp around Jayne urging him on. Joined as one, Jayne pounding into Simon as Simon pushes back, feeling more whole and alive, lips claiming Jayne’s as they both kiss around the pants. Cock throbbing as he pushes back against Jayne, groaning as the merc hit’s the spot deep inside him, Jayne grasping his leg and pushing it back thrusting in deeper against that spot. Harsh, punishing thrusts that Simon absorbs and clenches around.
It’s rough and fast, over far too quickly and leaving them both collapsed in an achy, trembling heap, both bodies sated. Kisses turning from desperate to slower, calming as they did. Simon can feel Jayne’s heartbeat as fast as his own, beating through his chest as they kiss, his body already achy, but never once has he felt so alive.