The Roses of Late Summer
Title: The Roses of Late Summer
Fandom(s): Firefly and Revolutionary Girl Utena
Pairing(s): Simon Tam and Mikage Souji
Rating: PG-13 for language and brief sexuality
Word Count: 4,026
Summary: Both a belated birthday offering to Sandoz_Iscariot as well as a sequel of sorts to Nevacaruso's wonderful piece "Discontinuity". I heavily recommend reading "Discontinuity" as it is both kick ass and helps this piece to make sense. When the Serentiy takes on a new passenger, Simon begins to wonder just what sort of man he is and why he feels so familiar.
Disclaimer: Don't own or claim to own either Revolutionary Girl Utena or Firefly. This story is for entertainment purposes only and I make no profit from it. This story contains elements of (male) homosexuality, if such acts/lifestyle/thoughts offend you, I ask you not to read. Now, without further ado...
As soon as the young doctor saw the pink haired man in the cargo bay of the Serenity, he paused. Kaylee, who was trying to lure Simon into a drinking game with the crew that night, saw him pause and walked back to him. The doctor in turn, couldn’t or wouldn’t move. The pink haired man stirred…something in him. What it was, he didn’t know how to describe. Instantly, he knew what the man’s fingertips on his wrist would feel like and just how firm yet soft they would be as they held his pulse point. Beyond that, Simon knew that the man’s touch would be…an addiction. How Simon knew all this, he couldn’t admit to himself. After all, this was the first time he had seen the man.
“Simon?” Kaylee asked gently.
“What is it?” Simon responded, his gaze never leaving the delicate features of the pink haired man’s face.
“Why are you looking like the client like you know him?”
“Client?”
“You don’t remember? The captain said we were picking up this hot shot professor who needed a ride to one of the mid-rim worlds.”
“Professor had a name that started with N right?”
“Are you getting enough sleep Simon? His name is Mikage.” As soon as Kaylee said his name, Simon could not prevent himself from shivering slightly. It seemed that the name knew him, the way the pink haired man’s soft but firm hands would know him, had known him perhaps, in what had been another lifetime. Simon shook off that thought as soon as he had it though. He knew he would have remembered someone as unique as this Mikage was. During their conversation, the pink haired man, Mikage, had walked right up to Kaylee and Simon. As he passed, Simon could not prevent his eyes from closing as he felt a wave of almost oppressive humidity, similar to the late summer evenings of his childhood course over him. The sensation was gone as soon as it came.
There was almost something familiar in the feel of the pink haired man's fingertips as they passed Simon's wrist. Simon remembered a scent of some sort of flower and a night in a garden in the late summer where he had dreamed...dreamed what? In the brief moment of eye contact that passed between them, although the thin lenses of the man’s oval glasses separate them, Simon does not see his reflection in the crimson of the other man's eyes. Rather, he saw or thought he saw himself as he might have been, at the university library on one of those late nights of which there had been so many. It was in this moment he remembered a conversation about the constant human struggle against entropy, although he can't remember exactly what was said, although Simon had the feeling that for some reason, he once admitted defeat to this man. A man whose face he can't place, although it would fit easily into the university, perhaps this man too was fond of the library where ghosts of whispers echoed still.
"When you have the chance...Dr. Tam, I would like to speak to you," the professor’s voice was smooth, gentle, and was like the rustling of pages or the light blowing of a breeze.
"Regarding what Professor Mikage?" The name felt oddly familiar in Simon’s mouth.
"The nature of time, eternity, and roses in late summer,” the professor answered walking away. It was only in his wake that Simon noticed the faint aroma of smoke, but as soon as he tried to focus on the scent, it was gone. Kaylee didn’t say anything; she had never seen the normally composed doctor anywhere close to this upset, saving his interactions with his sister. However, she kept silent about it and only tried to push Simon into the drinking game, which he found himself agreeing to.
It was only after the second bottle of Sake was open and Wash had been pulled away by Zoe to ‘take care of some urgent business that Simon’s tongue began to loosen up any. Unlike the night on Canton, he did not wax poetic on Kaylee. Rather, the doctor began to speak of his youth and how he had grown up. Jayne, who by now was rather more intoxicated, continued to drink while the doctor described the life he had lived before the Serenity. Book, who had joined only to make sure that none of the seven deadly sins were broken too much just listened with a small smile on his face. It was only Kaylee who truly listened to the doctor’s stories of his childhood and the early years of his life in university. There was not much difference between the Simon that sat at the table now and the Simon that was being described in the story, however Kaylee listened attentively. Somewhere, in the middle of a description about his first year is when Kaylee smells, or thinks she smells, smoke.
**
A little past midnight as reckoned by the nearest planet with a population of any size, Kaylee found herself trying to support the doctor’s weight as she walks him back to his bunk. She was not surprised to find River waiting in a corridor, and mutely accepted the other girl’s help as she loops Simon’s other arm over her shoulder.
“He’s still a ghost you know. More real, this time, but still a ghost,” River voiced, her gaze focused straight ahead.
“Who?” Simon drawled out, slurring the word just slightly. Kaylee would have found it amusing if she weren’t so curious.
“The one who doesn’t belong, but is here none-the-less,” River responded as if she were reciting some sort of well learned lesson, all the while sending Simon a look that stated clearly you know who I am talking about.
For the second time that night, Kaylee catches, or thought she did, the passing scent of smoke. This time though, she could have sworn that she’d seen, out of the corner of her eye the slight frame of the pink haired professor. However as soon as she tried to focus on him, he was gone. It was for the best though, as Simon was far from easy to carry, and the last thing Kaylee needed was a distraction.
“It can’t be River, he never was,” Simon responded, as if going over an argument that he and River have had since their childhood.
“You’ve let yourself forget, but he remembers, he always remembers.”
“But…”
“He’s here, for now. Remember him,” River said, and the tone of her voice was one that effectively ended the conversation, although Kaylee was of the distinct opinion that had Simon been sober, it would have continued. As it was Simon was unsure on his feet and only managed to take off his shoes before falling into a deep slumber. River wandered off without saying as much as goodbye, leaving a very confused mechanic to contemplate the exchange that had taken place between the Tams. She eventually decided to ask Simon in the morning, if he remembered anything of the night.
**
When Kaylee came to and went forth for her cup of coffee, she found that Simon had already arisen and was nursing what well might have been either his third or fourth cup of the life giving black liquid. Seated across the table from him, fingers wrapped delicately around the handle of an antique mug, sat Professor Mikage. Kaylee felt the heavy silence as she entered the kitchen, and decided it would be best if she grabbed her coffee and ran. After all, there were about two hundred things that needed to be done to the engine.
“Professor Mikage…” Simon began.
“Souji, please,” the pink haired man corrected, taking the smallest possible sip from his mug.
“Souji,” Simon was surprised by just how comfortable the name felt on his tongue, “You said that you wanted to speak with me?”
“I did?”
“Yes, you did. You said that you wanted to talk with me about the nature of time, eternity and…” Simon stopped and closed his eyes. A night, now many years past, flashed into his minds eye like the ember of an ancient fire, ready to start a new inferno. The smoke in the air dissolved into the heavy scent of late blooming roses, and again he could have sworn he felt the oppressive humidity that only a late summer could bring. He remembered a man who had said…who had said what? All Simon could clearly remember was the ring, a band of silver with a rose sigil, that in a moonlight garden had been a color close to ebony.
“And the roses in late summer,” Souji finished. His eyes were directly locked on Simon’s and for a moment, there is a perfect silence that rested between the two. If anyone were to happen to walk in on it, they might well have thought that they were walking in on a display in a museum or a frozen tableau from a performance art piece. Neither of the men moved, their eyes locked, as if an unspoken conversation existed in their gaze. It was Mikage who broke the scene, with the same eerie ease he had began it. The pink haired man stood, finished his drink, and walked out of the kitchen, leaving the doctor holding a now cold half finished mug of coffee. Simon wondered how long they had been staring at each other, and had to make peace with the fact that there was no way to know, truly know. Only when he has had a chance to look back will he be able to reckon how much time had passed, and even then, Simon might not know.
**
For the rest of the day, Simon did his best to stay out of the path of his fellow shipmates, but more specifically, he made sure that he was nowhere near the pink haired man, whose scent was smoke and whose touch would be an addiction. Only when the captain came to ask why Simon was not being social with the guest did the doctor confess that the passenger made him feel ill at ease.
“Why, you think he’s one of those sort that is after you or your sister?” Mal inquired, clearly as anxious about the possible threat of an Alliance man on his boat.
“No, Souji would say…” Simon paused as he savored the way the man’s name felt on his tongue. It was like an exquisite tea or a fine wine, something that deserved savoring.
“What?”
“…That he had ‘nothing to do with our war,’” Simon found himself quoting, unconsciously trying to mirror the pink haired man’s voice. Based off the look on Mal’s face, the imitation had been far from successfully.
“What do you mean by ‘our war’?” The captain asked, clearly focused. Simon looked at the floor beneath him and just shrugged his shoulders. The captain’s question seemed strangely familiar. It felt like something Simon himself may have once asked, or wanted to ask.
“You know this client?”
Simon paused for a moment before slowly shaking his head no despite the urge to nod a strong yes. He could think of no response beyond the physical one he had given and the captain walked off, as perhaps just as puzzled by the doctor, but refusing to show it in any discernable manner. That left Simon with his meditations about a man who was clearly neither one thing or another, and whose spider like hands seemed at once so alien and entirely too familiar. Lost in his thoughts, the doctor did not notice when the professor entered the room and became aware of the other man only through the intensity of the carbuncle gaze upon the back of his neck. The hairs on the back of his neck rose, an ancient reflex.
“Souji,” Simon whispered, not turning around.
“Yes?” The professor responded, his voice equally low, but carrying. Simon could have sworn that the other man was directly behind him, breathing his responses into his ear.
“Why do I feel we have already discussed time, and what it means to be eternal? Why do I feel like you know what the rose garden of my house looks like?” Simon found it close to impossible to resist the urge to push himself backwards, to invite the other man’s fingertips to ghost along his skin and write in languages now long forgotten.
“Perhaps you already have had a discussion of time with someone who was like me? It would be easy to mistake my face.”
“I know I would remember you,” Simon almost groaned, more trying to affirm it for himself than the other man. As he turned to face the professor, he saw only Mikage’s retreating frame through the doorway. For what felt like the fiftieth time that day, although it may only be the first, Simon found himself questioning his state of mind. Such meditations could wait though; he had to make sure everything was organized in the infirmary.
For the rest of the day, Simon kept on looking over his shoulder, half-expecting, perhaps even half-hoping to see their passenger standing behind him. Every time he inhaled, the young doctor remembered the faint aroma of smoke that seemed to hang around Mikage like some sort of protective veil. Simon’s skin craved the thin, pale, fingers to trace the outline of his body. In particular, Simon’s wrists ached, a dull throbbing pain that did not seem to subsist no matter how much he attempted to massage the pulse points. However he attributed the ache in his wrists more to the hours he had spent sorting the medicines and supplies of the infirmary. Only when he looked down did he realize that he had been moving the same five bottles of pills around for only heaven knew exactly how long. He closed his eyes, and slowly inhaled. Upon exhaling with the same slow speed, while simultaneously opening his eyes, he might have sworn that the ache in his wrists grew more intense.
**
Knowing that he would be chewed out by the captain for using any of the plethora of painkillers the crew had procured from Ariel, Simon went to Inara’s shuttle to see if she might be able to help his wrist any. During his walk to the companion’s shuttle, he compared the interior of the ship to the pathways through his parents’ gardens, however it was a short-lived comparison. There weren’t many similarities. Besides, the interior of the university library had been more like the ship. The ship and its place in his personal history were unique, but no matter how hard he tried he could not prevent his mind from drifting back into the past and trying to make comparisons to the present. It felt like he had forgotten something, and if he could only think hard enough, whatever it was that he had forgotten would return with a glorious thunderclap. However, the harder that he looked, the more distant whatever memory he was trying recover seemed. It was if a layer of heavy fog or smoke hung around whatever it was that he was trying to remember, and the harder he tried, the more dense the cloud became. Eventually, as he stood before the door to Inara’s shuttle, he decided that it would be for the best if he attempted to recall whatever it was he had let slip by the wayside later. Clearly, he was having no success at the current moment.
Inara, as almost always, was a gracious hostess. While she denied having any painkillers, she was willing to attempt to relieve some of the stress in Simon’s wrists through a massage. Although Inara was a skilled masseuse, nothing she was able to do did anything for the tension in Simon’s wrists. The doctor sighed, wondering why he had allowed himself to be so absent minded in the infirmary.
“Is there something the matter?” Inara asked, the index and middle fingers of both hands at just below Simon’s left palm.
“I don’t think it’s anything that you could help me with,” Simon responded, not wanting to be rude, but wanting to keep his issues to himself.
“You, of all people on this ship, should know that a Companion is the soul of discretion,” Inara chided gently.
“It’s our latest client, Mikage…there’s something about him.”
“So you noticed it to?”
“Noticed what?”
“We have similar talents, and perhaps interests. Granted he’s own a different playing field, but the game remains unchanged.”
“He’s a male companion?” Simon replied, raising one eyebrow with slight disbelief.
“Not a companion, but he is certainly a player. He’s different than Saffron was, but the principle remains the same.”
“If he’s like Saffron, then why haven’t you told the captain?”
“Because, unlike Saffron, the only person he seems to have shown any interest is in you. If anyone needs to be careful, you do.”
“I’m fully capable of looking after myself Inara. Thank you for your time,” Simon eventually said, pulling his wrists away from her touch, although they were still aching. She said nothing, but there was something in her eyes that Simon could not read. Rather, she just escorted Simon to the door of the shuttle. In the moments after the shuttle door was closed, Simon stood with his back against the interior wall of the ship and tried to focus on his breathing. Even in the almost silence with his back against the cold metal, Simon could easily imagine the slight buzz of a party conversation with the heat of a late summer afternoon just beginning to lift slightly while the humidity remained.
**
Eventually, Simon drifted back into the infirmary and stayed there until well past the conventional mealtime had passed, taking care of the odd jobs that needed to be taken care of. Only after he was certain that everyone else would be asleep did the doctor dare to venture into the commissary. Once there, Simon could not honestly say that he was surprised to see Souji Mikage sitting at (what to the doctor was) the far end of the table, calmly sipping something from the same antique mug that he had used at the first meal of the daily cycle.
“Simon,” Mikage said, his eyes never leaving the doctor’s.
“Souji,” Tam responded, his gaze now locked. For a brief moment, a silence fell between the two men as they stared at each other. “The time for our conversation is long overdue, isn’t it?” The doctor eventually volunteered, saying anything to banish the deafening silence.
“That it is, but I believe it would be far more comfortable if we discussed things in my room,” Souji suggested. Simon just nodded, mutely, not trusting his voice at the moment, somehow knowing that anything he could or would say would betray all of the emotions that were coursing through him. In as close to perfect silence as the doctor could manage, he followed the pink haired professor through the corridors of the Serenity, not caring how long it took him to reach his destination. Every step of the journey, the doctor’s heart thundered in his chest, and Simon could remember trying to get up the nerve to…do something his parents would not have approved of. Whatever it was, Simon was not sure of, all that he could remember was that his logic had been, ”I want to.” When the pair finally reached the door of Mikage’s small room, Simon had to pause to compose himself. It did him little good; he could not prevent himself from shaking.
“Is everything alright Simon?” Mikage inquired, although the tone of his voice seemed to indicate that the professor already knew at least part of the doctor’s response. Still, Simon found himself searching for words, wondering what the best way to answer the professor’s question.
“No, everything is not alright. Every time I get near you, I start seeing, feeling, things that I haven’t seen or felt in what amounts to a small lifetime. Every time I as much as hear your voice I remember the university library late at night. I don’t know what it is but…” Simon trailed off. By now, Mikage was sitting on the bed next to him, holding one of the doctor’s wrists in his hands. Mikage’s skin is just as soft as Simon imagined it would be, but there was firmness in the grip that can only have come from years spent holding some sort of implement. A weapon perhaps, Simon thought to himself, although for the life of him, he cannot think why his mind immediately flashed to that possibility.
“It’s alright, go deeper,” Mikage gently encouraged, rubbing small circles over Simon’s pulse point. Feeling compelled on a primal level, he closed his eyes and let himself dive into his memories. Slowly at first, but then with a speed that would have put even River’s keen reflexes to shame, Simon found all of the memories, everything he had allowed himself to forget from that summer. Tilting his head back, he let out a deep groan as the cascade of memories flashed before his minds eye. Although it took only a matter of seconds, for Simon it felt like an eternity. Upon opening his eyes, it was all Simon could do not to punch Mikage. Instead he did something he almost never did, and something that Kaylee would have given a pretty penny to hear. He started swearing like a spacer.
“You…you…goram bastard! What the Hell are you doing here?” Simon demanded, doing everything in his power to prevent himself from screaming. As it was, his voice was louder than would normally be acceptable during the night hours of the ship. Somehow Simon knew that no one would hear him.
“I am not here to harm your sister, if that is what you mean,” Mikage responded calmly, his grip still firm around Simon’s wrist.
“Then what are you here for? Why are you here? I thought you said…”
“Time, Simon is relative, especially for someone like the man that I work for. For him, while I have been here a matter of days, he has been waiting fractions of seconds for me to return. He believes that there might be someone of use to him somewhere in the mid-rim. He has given me as much time here as I felt necessary to get the task done. A small reward perhaps.”
“Why did you come here?”
“Isn’t it obvious?”
“Nothing ever was with you Souji.”
“Touché.”
“I don’t think that I can trust you. You vanished Souji, left me with more questions then answers and I somehow managed to forget you, although I don’t think I should be surprised at that. Then you show up again, and I just…I just don’t know what to believe about you.”
“I swear upon this ring,” Mikage pause briefly as he put his hand over the sigil, “that I wish no harm to you or any of the crew of this ship, including your sister. If you do not believe my words, then believe my actions.” With that Mikage leaned forward and planted his lips firmly on Simon’s. They were everything that Simon imagined they would be, and more. Time ceased to exist as Mikage’s tongue begged entrance into Simon’s mouth, and soon the two were performing a dance as ancient as the human race itself, taking their time to make sure that the night would not be mistaken for a figment nor a passing dream. Eventually, the dance stopped, but they remain close to each other, holding onto each other as if for dear life, or an affirmation of something greater. Exactly what, neither one would be able to tell.
**
In the morning, Simon walked the professor to the breakfast table. No one said anything, although there were a few odd looks. Simon did not mind though. He now had something he could and would remember. It was something that would not fade as the scent of roses from that late summer, now many years past had faded.
Fandom(s): Firefly and Revolutionary Girl Utena
Pairing(s): Simon Tam and Mikage Souji
Rating: PG-13 for language and brief sexuality
Word Count: 4,026
Summary: Both a belated birthday offering to Sandoz_Iscariot as well as a sequel of sorts to Nevacaruso's wonderful piece "Discontinuity". I heavily recommend reading "Discontinuity" as it is both kick ass and helps this piece to make sense. When the Serentiy takes on a new passenger, Simon begins to wonder just what sort of man he is and why he feels so familiar.
Disclaimer: Don't own or claim to own either Revolutionary Girl Utena or Firefly. This story is for entertainment purposes only and I make no profit from it. This story contains elements of (male) homosexuality, if such acts/lifestyle/thoughts offend you, I ask you not to read. Now, without further ado...
As soon as the young doctor saw the pink haired man in the cargo bay of the Serenity, he paused. Kaylee, who was trying to lure Simon into a drinking game with the crew that night, saw him pause and walked back to him. The doctor in turn, couldn’t or wouldn’t move. The pink haired man stirred…something in him. What it was, he didn’t know how to describe. Instantly, he knew what the man’s fingertips on his wrist would feel like and just how firm yet soft they would be as they held his pulse point. Beyond that, Simon knew that the man’s touch would be…an addiction. How Simon knew all this, he couldn’t admit to himself. After all, this was the first time he had seen the man.
“Simon?” Kaylee asked gently.
“What is it?” Simon responded, his gaze never leaving the delicate features of the pink haired man’s face.
“Why are you looking like the client like you know him?”
“Client?”
“You don’t remember? The captain said we were picking up this hot shot professor who needed a ride to one of the mid-rim worlds.”
“Professor had a name that started with N right?”
“Are you getting enough sleep Simon? His name is Mikage.” As soon as Kaylee said his name, Simon could not prevent himself from shivering slightly. It seemed that the name knew him, the way the pink haired man’s soft but firm hands would know him, had known him perhaps, in what had been another lifetime. Simon shook off that thought as soon as he had it though. He knew he would have remembered someone as unique as this Mikage was. During their conversation, the pink haired man, Mikage, had walked right up to Kaylee and Simon. As he passed, Simon could not prevent his eyes from closing as he felt a wave of almost oppressive humidity, similar to the late summer evenings of his childhood course over him. The sensation was gone as soon as it came.
There was almost something familiar in the feel of the pink haired man's fingertips as they passed Simon's wrist. Simon remembered a scent of some sort of flower and a night in a garden in the late summer where he had dreamed...dreamed what? In the brief moment of eye contact that passed between them, although the thin lenses of the man’s oval glasses separate them, Simon does not see his reflection in the crimson of the other man's eyes. Rather, he saw or thought he saw himself as he might have been, at the university library on one of those late nights of which there had been so many. It was in this moment he remembered a conversation about the constant human struggle against entropy, although he can't remember exactly what was said, although Simon had the feeling that for some reason, he once admitted defeat to this man. A man whose face he can't place, although it would fit easily into the university, perhaps this man too was fond of the library where ghosts of whispers echoed still.
"When you have the chance...Dr. Tam, I would like to speak to you," the professor’s voice was smooth, gentle, and was like the rustling of pages or the light blowing of a breeze.
"Regarding what Professor Mikage?" The name felt oddly familiar in Simon’s mouth.
"The nature of time, eternity, and roses in late summer,” the professor answered walking away. It was only in his wake that Simon noticed the faint aroma of smoke, but as soon as he tried to focus on the scent, it was gone. Kaylee didn’t say anything; she had never seen the normally composed doctor anywhere close to this upset, saving his interactions with his sister. However, she kept silent about it and only tried to push Simon into the drinking game, which he found himself agreeing to.
It was only after the second bottle of Sake was open and Wash had been pulled away by Zoe to ‘take care of some urgent business that Simon’s tongue began to loosen up any. Unlike the night on Canton, he did not wax poetic on Kaylee. Rather, the doctor began to speak of his youth and how he had grown up. Jayne, who by now was rather more intoxicated, continued to drink while the doctor described the life he had lived before the Serenity. Book, who had joined only to make sure that none of the seven deadly sins were broken too much just listened with a small smile on his face. It was only Kaylee who truly listened to the doctor’s stories of his childhood and the early years of his life in university. There was not much difference between the Simon that sat at the table now and the Simon that was being described in the story, however Kaylee listened attentively. Somewhere, in the middle of a description about his first year is when Kaylee smells, or thinks she smells, smoke.
**
A little past midnight as reckoned by the nearest planet with a population of any size, Kaylee found herself trying to support the doctor’s weight as she walks him back to his bunk. She was not surprised to find River waiting in a corridor, and mutely accepted the other girl’s help as she loops Simon’s other arm over her shoulder.
“He’s still a ghost you know. More real, this time, but still a ghost,” River voiced, her gaze focused straight ahead.
“Who?” Simon drawled out, slurring the word just slightly. Kaylee would have found it amusing if she weren’t so curious.
“The one who doesn’t belong, but is here none-the-less,” River responded as if she were reciting some sort of well learned lesson, all the while sending Simon a look that stated clearly you know who I am talking about.
For the second time that night, Kaylee catches, or thought she did, the passing scent of smoke. This time though, she could have sworn that she’d seen, out of the corner of her eye the slight frame of the pink haired professor. However as soon as she tried to focus on him, he was gone. It was for the best though, as Simon was far from easy to carry, and the last thing Kaylee needed was a distraction.
“It can’t be River, he never was,” Simon responded, as if going over an argument that he and River have had since their childhood.
“You’ve let yourself forget, but he remembers, he always remembers.”
“But…”
“He’s here, for now. Remember him,” River said, and the tone of her voice was one that effectively ended the conversation, although Kaylee was of the distinct opinion that had Simon been sober, it would have continued. As it was Simon was unsure on his feet and only managed to take off his shoes before falling into a deep slumber. River wandered off without saying as much as goodbye, leaving a very confused mechanic to contemplate the exchange that had taken place between the Tams. She eventually decided to ask Simon in the morning, if he remembered anything of the night.
**
When Kaylee came to and went forth for her cup of coffee, she found that Simon had already arisen and was nursing what well might have been either his third or fourth cup of the life giving black liquid. Seated across the table from him, fingers wrapped delicately around the handle of an antique mug, sat Professor Mikage. Kaylee felt the heavy silence as she entered the kitchen, and decided it would be best if she grabbed her coffee and ran. After all, there were about two hundred things that needed to be done to the engine.
“Professor Mikage…” Simon began.
“Souji, please,” the pink haired man corrected, taking the smallest possible sip from his mug.
“Souji,” Simon was surprised by just how comfortable the name felt on his tongue, “You said that you wanted to speak with me?”
“I did?”
“Yes, you did. You said that you wanted to talk with me about the nature of time, eternity and…” Simon stopped and closed his eyes. A night, now many years past, flashed into his minds eye like the ember of an ancient fire, ready to start a new inferno. The smoke in the air dissolved into the heavy scent of late blooming roses, and again he could have sworn he felt the oppressive humidity that only a late summer could bring. He remembered a man who had said…who had said what? All Simon could clearly remember was the ring, a band of silver with a rose sigil, that in a moonlight garden had been a color close to ebony.
“And the roses in late summer,” Souji finished. His eyes were directly locked on Simon’s and for a moment, there is a perfect silence that rested between the two. If anyone were to happen to walk in on it, they might well have thought that they were walking in on a display in a museum or a frozen tableau from a performance art piece. Neither of the men moved, their eyes locked, as if an unspoken conversation existed in their gaze. It was Mikage who broke the scene, with the same eerie ease he had began it. The pink haired man stood, finished his drink, and walked out of the kitchen, leaving the doctor holding a now cold half finished mug of coffee. Simon wondered how long they had been staring at each other, and had to make peace with the fact that there was no way to know, truly know. Only when he has had a chance to look back will he be able to reckon how much time had passed, and even then, Simon might not know.
**
For the rest of the day, Simon did his best to stay out of the path of his fellow shipmates, but more specifically, he made sure that he was nowhere near the pink haired man, whose scent was smoke and whose touch would be an addiction. Only when the captain came to ask why Simon was not being social with the guest did the doctor confess that the passenger made him feel ill at ease.
“Why, you think he’s one of those sort that is after you or your sister?” Mal inquired, clearly as anxious about the possible threat of an Alliance man on his boat.
“No, Souji would say…” Simon paused as he savored the way the man’s name felt on his tongue. It was like an exquisite tea or a fine wine, something that deserved savoring.
“What?”
“…That he had ‘nothing to do with our war,’” Simon found himself quoting, unconsciously trying to mirror the pink haired man’s voice. Based off the look on Mal’s face, the imitation had been far from successfully.
“What do you mean by ‘our war’?” The captain asked, clearly focused. Simon looked at the floor beneath him and just shrugged his shoulders. The captain’s question seemed strangely familiar. It felt like something Simon himself may have once asked, or wanted to ask.
“You know this client?”
Simon paused for a moment before slowly shaking his head no despite the urge to nod a strong yes. He could think of no response beyond the physical one he had given and the captain walked off, as perhaps just as puzzled by the doctor, but refusing to show it in any discernable manner. That left Simon with his meditations about a man who was clearly neither one thing or another, and whose spider like hands seemed at once so alien and entirely too familiar. Lost in his thoughts, the doctor did not notice when the professor entered the room and became aware of the other man only through the intensity of the carbuncle gaze upon the back of his neck. The hairs on the back of his neck rose, an ancient reflex.
“Souji,” Simon whispered, not turning around.
“Yes?” The professor responded, his voice equally low, but carrying. Simon could have sworn that the other man was directly behind him, breathing his responses into his ear.
“Why do I feel we have already discussed time, and what it means to be eternal? Why do I feel like you know what the rose garden of my house looks like?” Simon found it close to impossible to resist the urge to push himself backwards, to invite the other man’s fingertips to ghost along his skin and write in languages now long forgotten.
“Perhaps you already have had a discussion of time with someone who was like me? It would be easy to mistake my face.”
“I know I would remember you,” Simon almost groaned, more trying to affirm it for himself than the other man. As he turned to face the professor, he saw only Mikage’s retreating frame through the doorway. For what felt like the fiftieth time that day, although it may only be the first, Simon found himself questioning his state of mind. Such meditations could wait though; he had to make sure everything was organized in the infirmary.
For the rest of the day, Simon kept on looking over his shoulder, half-expecting, perhaps even half-hoping to see their passenger standing behind him. Every time he inhaled, the young doctor remembered the faint aroma of smoke that seemed to hang around Mikage like some sort of protective veil. Simon’s skin craved the thin, pale, fingers to trace the outline of his body. In particular, Simon’s wrists ached, a dull throbbing pain that did not seem to subsist no matter how much he attempted to massage the pulse points. However he attributed the ache in his wrists more to the hours he had spent sorting the medicines and supplies of the infirmary. Only when he looked down did he realize that he had been moving the same five bottles of pills around for only heaven knew exactly how long. He closed his eyes, and slowly inhaled. Upon exhaling with the same slow speed, while simultaneously opening his eyes, he might have sworn that the ache in his wrists grew more intense.
**
Knowing that he would be chewed out by the captain for using any of the plethora of painkillers the crew had procured from Ariel, Simon went to Inara’s shuttle to see if she might be able to help his wrist any. During his walk to the companion’s shuttle, he compared the interior of the ship to the pathways through his parents’ gardens, however it was a short-lived comparison. There weren’t many similarities. Besides, the interior of the university library had been more like the ship. The ship and its place in his personal history were unique, but no matter how hard he tried he could not prevent his mind from drifting back into the past and trying to make comparisons to the present. It felt like he had forgotten something, and if he could only think hard enough, whatever it was that he had forgotten would return with a glorious thunderclap. However, the harder that he looked, the more distant whatever memory he was trying recover seemed. It was if a layer of heavy fog or smoke hung around whatever it was that he was trying to remember, and the harder he tried, the more dense the cloud became. Eventually, as he stood before the door to Inara’s shuttle, he decided that it would be for the best if he attempted to recall whatever it was he had let slip by the wayside later. Clearly, he was having no success at the current moment.
Inara, as almost always, was a gracious hostess. While she denied having any painkillers, she was willing to attempt to relieve some of the stress in Simon’s wrists through a massage. Although Inara was a skilled masseuse, nothing she was able to do did anything for the tension in Simon’s wrists. The doctor sighed, wondering why he had allowed himself to be so absent minded in the infirmary.
“Is there something the matter?” Inara asked, the index and middle fingers of both hands at just below Simon’s left palm.
“I don’t think it’s anything that you could help me with,” Simon responded, not wanting to be rude, but wanting to keep his issues to himself.
“You, of all people on this ship, should know that a Companion is the soul of discretion,” Inara chided gently.
“It’s our latest client, Mikage…there’s something about him.”
“So you noticed it to?”
“Noticed what?”
“We have similar talents, and perhaps interests. Granted he’s own a different playing field, but the game remains unchanged.”
“He’s a male companion?” Simon replied, raising one eyebrow with slight disbelief.
“Not a companion, but he is certainly a player. He’s different than Saffron was, but the principle remains the same.”
“If he’s like Saffron, then why haven’t you told the captain?”
“Because, unlike Saffron, the only person he seems to have shown any interest is in you. If anyone needs to be careful, you do.”
“I’m fully capable of looking after myself Inara. Thank you for your time,” Simon eventually said, pulling his wrists away from her touch, although they were still aching. She said nothing, but there was something in her eyes that Simon could not read. Rather, she just escorted Simon to the door of the shuttle. In the moments after the shuttle door was closed, Simon stood with his back against the interior wall of the ship and tried to focus on his breathing. Even in the almost silence with his back against the cold metal, Simon could easily imagine the slight buzz of a party conversation with the heat of a late summer afternoon just beginning to lift slightly while the humidity remained.
**
Eventually, Simon drifted back into the infirmary and stayed there until well past the conventional mealtime had passed, taking care of the odd jobs that needed to be taken care of. Only after he was certain that everyone else would be asleep did the doctor dare to venture into the commissary. Once there, Simon could not honestly say that he was surprised to see Souji Mikage sitting at (what to the doctor was) the far end of the table, calmly sipping something from the same antique mug that he had used at the first meal of the daily cycle.
“Simon,” Mikage said, his eyes never leaving the doctor’s.
“Souji,” Tam responded, his gaze now locked. For a brief moment, a silence fell between the two men as they stared at each other. “The time for our conversation is long overdue, isn’t it?” The doctor eventually volunteered, saying anything to banish the deafening silence.
“That it is, but I believe it would be far more comfortable if we discussed things in my room,” Souji suggested. Simon just nodded, mutely, not trusting his voice at the moment, somehow knowing that anything he could or would say would betray all of the emotions that were coursing through him. In as close to perfect silence as the doctor could manage, he followed the pink haired professor through the corridors of the Serenity, not caring how long it took him to reach his destination. Every step of the journey, the doctor’s heart thundered in his chest, and Simon could remember trying to get up the nerve to…do something his parents would not have approved of. Whatever it was, Simon was not sure of, all that he could remember was that his logic had been, ”I want to.” When the pair finally reached the door of Mikage’s small room, Simon had to pause to compose himself. It did him little good; he could not prevent himself from shaking.
“Is everything alright Simon?” Mikage inquired, although the tone of his voice seemed to indicate that the professor already knew at least part of the doctor’s response. Still, Simon found himself searching for words, wondering what the best way to answer the professor’s question.
“No, everything is not alright. Every time I get near you, I start seeing, feeling, things that I haven’t seen or felt in what amounts to a small lifetime. Every time I as much as hear your voice I remember the university library late at night. I don’t know what it is but…” Simon trailed off. By now, Mikage was sitting on the bed next to him, holding one of the doctor’s wrists in his hands. Mikage’s skin is just as soft as Simon imagined it would be, but there was firmness in the grip that can only have come from years spent holding some sort of implement. A weapon perhaps, Simon thought to himself, although for the life of him, he cannot think why his mind immediately flashed to that possibility.
“It’s alright, go deeper,” Mikage gently encouraged, rubbing small circles over Simon’s pulse point. Feeling compelled on a primal level, he closed his eyes and let himself dive into his memories. Slowly at first, but then with a speed that would have put even River’s keen reflexes to shame, Simon found all of the memories, everything he had allowed himself to forget from that summer. Tilting his head back, he let out a deep groan as the cascade of memories flashed before his minds eye. Although it took only a matter of seconds, for Simon it felt like an eternity. Upon opening his eyes, it was all Simon could do not to punch Mikage. Instead he did something he almost never did, and something that Kaylee would have given a pretty penny to hear. He started swearing like a spacer.
“You…you…goram bastard! What the Hell are you doing here?” Simon demanded, doing everything in his power to prevent himself from screaming. As it was, his voice was louder than would normally be acceptable during the night hours of the ship. Somehow Simon knew that no one would hear him.
“I am not here to harm your sister, if that is what you mean,” Mikage responded calmly, his grip still firm around Simon’s wrist.
“Then what are you here for? Why are you here? I thought you said…”
“Time, Simon is relative, especially for someone like the man that I work for. For him, while I have been here a matter of days, he has been waiting fractions of seconds for me to return. He believes that there might be someone of use to him somewhere in the mid-rim. He has given me as much time here as I felt necessary to get the task done. A small reward perhaps.”
“Why did you come here?”
“Isn’t it obvious?”
“Nothing ever was with you Souji.”
“Touché.”
“I don’t think that I can trust you. You vanished Souji, left me with more questions then answers and I somehow managed to forget you, although I don’t think I should be surprised at that. Then you show up again, and I just…I just don’t know what to believe about you.”
“I swear upon this ring,” Mikage pause briefly as he put his hand over the sigil, “that I wish no harm to you or any of the crew of this ship, including your sister. If you do not believe my words, then believe my actions.” With that Mikage leaned forward and planted his lips firmly on Simon’s. They were everything that Simon imagined they would be, and more. Time ceased to exist as Mikage’s tongue begged entrance into Simon’s mouth, and soon the two were performing a dance as ancient as the human race itself, taking their time to make sure that the night would not be mistaken for a figment nor a passing dream. Eventually, the dance stopped, but they remain close to each other, holding onto each other as if for dear life, or an affirmation of something greater. Exactly what, neither one would be able to tell.
**
In the morning, Simon walked the professor to the breakfast table. No one said anything, although there were a few odd looks. Simon did not mind though. He now had something he could and would remember. It was something that would not fade as the scent of roses from that late summer, now many years past had faded.