It was three hours past midnight – or at least by Serenity's internal clock it was. She was dark, save for the light of the small screen in the infirmary. The artificial brightness washed over Simon's unwavering face, bleaching it past his normal paleness. The ship was silent, too, absent of Kaylee's bright chatter bouncing off the walls, or the captain's own barking voice sharply pinging from the same. The constant hum of her engines hardly counted anymore, though they'd kept him up most of the night his first few nights.

She was silent as well, thankfully. He'd given her nearly twice her normal dosage of tranquilizers, and she'd been near catatonic beforehand.

Well, after screaming so loud his ears hurt, and trashing most of his infirmary into an unidentifiable mess.

It had been worse than when Jayne was looking for tape, and he was, well…Jayne. He sighed, running a hand through his hair and pinching the bridge of his nose. Then, pressing a button on the console in front of him, he spoke.

"Day one-hundred-and-fourteen, 3:15 A.M. I suppose I should say then that it's day one-hundred-and-fifteen, but I haven't been able to get to this until now, so I'll technically be putting in two logs today." He paused, clearing his thoughts with an only-slightly helpful shake of the head. "My pat…River is asleep now," It was so hard not to slip into cold-doctor-mode, where it was safe. But he couldn't. "She had another episode today. One of her worse days, though no one was injured this time."

Another pause and his frown took full form. "She's getting worse. I don't know if it's the environment, the meds I've been giving her, or if it's just the natural progression into insanity caused by those rutting…I can't call them scientists, those madmen, playing with her brain." He sighed, angrily. "And she still won't talk about what they did to her, so I have nothing to go on beyond her own broken ramblings." He was putting too much emotion into it. This wasn't the point of his logs, he had told himself. Gathering his thoughts, he spoke rationally. Tried to.

"I've tried and tested most, if not all of the drug cocktails I can think of that aren't disastrous to her health, and some that might be. I briefly considered including a large dosage of Quetiapine, but it would act as more of a simple sedative than an actual antipsychotic, and I'm not comfortable with simply doping her into unconsciousness every time she starts to lose control. Even though that is basically what I am being forced into doing. Not only is it hurting more than it's helping, she's building a tolerance to it." Again the façade of professionalism faltered, and he couldn't bring himself to care this time. Without moving a muscle, the energy left him, and he slipped from a worried doctor to a hopeless, worn-out brother.

He sighed. "I'm so tired. I'm tired of running from the government that was supposed to protect me, protect us, the same government that took my sister away from me. I'm tired of my fucking "captain" pushing me to get my "moonbrained" sister under control, when I don't even know why she's so out-of-control. I'm tired of Kaylee constantly angry at me because I say something stupid when I'm just trying to loosen up like she wants me to." He hung his head, as if ashamed of making eye contact with his image on the screen. "I'm tired of waking up to screaming, having to comfort River and having no idea how." He continued softly, brokenly. Silence reigned, as he felt the weight of the world come crashing about his shoulders, and it was crushing the breath from his lungs. Suffocating.

"Nothing's working." He murmured. "Nothing will ever work."

He shut the monitor off.

Standing, he didn't bother picking up his instruments. He'd just spent hours cleaning and organizing the infirmary, those could wait until tomorrow. He'd had enough of this room for one night. For one lifetime, even. Slothfully, he closed the infirmary door behind him, and sighed. Tomorrow, he'd be back. He'd keep looking. But tonight had been a loss. He'd just begun to head to the passenger rooms when-

"Doctor."

He turned slowly, not in the mood to deal with whatever the captain wanted to talk to him about. "Captain." He greeted, just as lowly, hoping to get the message across that he didn't want to talk.

"What're you doing up so late?" Apparently, Mal didn't get the hint. "Figured you'd be fast asleep, considering the night you had." Was that sympathy in his voice, or just mocking? Probably the second. Simon didn't bother asking the same of him. He knew of Mal's tendency to walk the ship during odd hours of the night, make sure everything was safe and sound before closing up. He'd spotted him passing by many a late night such as this. The only difference tonight, he surmised, was he wasn't going to bed with cautious, tired hope this time.

"I…" He found himself answering, despite his wish to be left alone. "I was just recording the log for today. You know…different medications I've given River, what progress she's made during the day."

Mal snorted softly, derisively. "How much would that be?" He asked sarcastically. Instead of becoming defensive, Simon surprised him by simply deflating, and turning towards the dorms.

"Goodnight, Captain." Walking away from him, he didn't notice the small furrow appear on Mal's brow. He did catch, however, the scoff that had to be aimed at him.

"Waste." The captain had only mumbled it, but it caught Simon's ear nonetheless. Brows pulled together in confusion, he turned back to Mal.

"What was that?" He asked cautiously, unsure if the captain had been speaking to him. He was assured of it with the pointed look Mal gave him. He saw pity in the captain's eyes, or at least some mockery of it.

Mal smiled without humor. "I've been in a good few losing battles in my day, Doctor, an' I know one when I see it." The older man said, shrugging. "Just thinking, what a waste of your doctorly talents it must be, using it all on a lost cause like River. It's a pity really." He sighed, turning to leave up the stairs. "Ain't nothing gonna bring that girl out of her looney-place, son. Nothing that exists yet."

Despite himself, despite the fact that he'd been thinking along the same lines as the captain only a few minutes ago, Simon felt a spark of fury flare in the pit of his stomach, and he stepped forward, jaw set.

"Do not talk about River that way. She is not a lost cause!" He didn't yell it, still mindful that there were others asleep on the ship, but the intensity of his gaze more than made up for his lack of volume. "And I will fix her. No matter how long it takes."

A few seconds passed, as the two men glared at each other, like two stone statues, unwavering. Then, to his utter surprise and aggravation, Malcolm suddenly smirked, and turned away, backing down for once.

"Goodnight, Doctor." Seconds later, he was staring at the spot where the captain used to be, while the sound of Mal's hatch closing reverberated throughout the ship. Simon, caught somewhere between confusion and outrage, simply stomped back to his bunk, nearly tearing the sliding door apart as he closed it behind him.

As he got into bed without changing into sleeping clothes, his mind sent all manner of obscenities towards his captain that would make Kaylee proud of him if she heard them. The captain was not right. He would fix River. Because she was his sister, the only family he had left, and he wasn't letting her be swallowed by the darkness, God dammit. He'd made a promise to both her and himself that he would protect her, and make the monsters inside her head go away, even if it took the rest of their lives. And he was Never. Giving. Up.

Inside his bunk, Malcolm Reynolds chuckled to himself as he lay in his bed. Kaylee'd hit the nail right on the head when they'd talked about him.

Simon was such an easy mark.