26th Century Cure
~ For Maury ~
Serenity is humming, and Simon's body is hungry. The ship is quieter, now that most of the crew is sleeping. The lights have been dimmed into an artificial night-time, so they don't hurt his eyes as much as they usually do. He can hear his blood, rushing in his ears. It's too loud; too hot. Simon's body aches and protests. He needs release. He's been tending to River almost all day- a thankless job- but she is sleeping now and will be for at least a couple hours, until her medication wears off.
Medication. The heist at Ariel had been such a success, Simon dares to hope. His feet, clad only in socks, make barely a sound at all on the metal walkways. A light sheen of sweat has broken over the back of his shoulders, bare under the dim red lights. Over the last couple weeks it had been getting worse. He could push it aside most of the time, and focus on the task at hand. However tonight the temptation is too much. He nearly salivates in anticipation as he descends the last steps towards the cargo-hold.
Mal hasn't locked down the grates yet. Simon can't prevent a grin of childish delight from spreading across his face. The fever is beginning to take a hold of him. At first he can't find it. In this pile of bottles and packages it's like trying to find a needle in a stack of needles, but he knows what he's looking for. As the seconds drip by the desperation grows and the panic builds. What if it isn't here? What will he do then? How will he survive?
Under a pile of pill bottles he finally finds it. A tightly sealed packet, big enough for just one syringe. It is branded with the BlueSun Corporation insignia, and the classification letter Z.
xXx
"It's emitting light, Rotti. Why the hell would I let you put that in my body?"
They were in one of the lower surgical theatres. It's design echoed the ancient Greek amphitheatres of Earth-That-Was, with seats rising in levels, designed so that undergraduates could watch procedures being carried out by surgeons in relative comfort. Simon sat on the table on the operating stage, his neatly folded lab coat sitting beside him, discarded. His flatmate and fellow med student -all sweat and fat and ambition-held a syringe in his hand.
"C'mon Simon, don't be a pussy. I told you already I got this experiment cleared by the board- it's safe. Besides, I'm paying you money to do this." While Simon was only in his fourth year at the Osiris Medical College, Rotti had graduated already and was conducting research for his PhD.
"I don't care," Simon said, sliding off the table and beginning to roll down his sleeves.
"Hey! What are you doing? You said you'd help me test out this drug!"
"Yeah well that was before I knew it was gonna be glowing" Simon replied. "Sorry Rotti. Don't you have other guinea-pigs?"
"Don't YOU wanna change history?" Rotti persisted. "This drug is going to change the way people cut up other people. Forever."
"You always were a poet."
"Tell you what, Simple Simon."
"I asked you not to call me that." Simon's hand was at the door knob. Then Rotti's was on his.
"Do this for me... You need money. I can get it."
"Everyone needs money, Rotti."
"But you're desperate. I can smell it. You've been participating in every gorram experiment that you qualify for. You've let them freeze you and burn you and cut into you and break your bones just to see if they can put you back together. You've done a lot of things no sane man would do. You're cut off from your parents, aren't you? And thats not all, is it Simon?"
"What are you impl-"
"I can help you get your sister out."
Simon faltered and turned to Rotti Largo, his eyes wide. "How did you know about that?" he whispered.
"Help me, Simon. Help me help you."
The syringe glows, innocent and blue.
"... you said it was safe?"
xXx
Simon is back in the infirmary. Like a child at Christmas, he rips the packaging off, unable to contain his excitement. Suddenly the room is aglow with the pale blue light radiating from the little glass vial. He sits on the patient's chair and holds the syringe between his teeth. Sweat is beading on his forehead. Running down his chest. He's removed his belt and fastened it tightly around his arm, cutting off the blood flow to better make his veins stand out. He breathes deeply through his nose, savouring the moment. - It's quick. It's clean. It's pure- He's been waiting for this for weeks. For the last couple of days he's barely been able to handle himself, snapping at people and shaking and vomiting in the shower, where no one will notice.
Suddenly he hears a sound. Simon raises his head, poised like a cat, heart racing. He counts ten seconds of tense silence. No one is there. Smiling, he flicks the needle once... twice...
xXx
Bliss. It was bliss, pure and simple. Simon didn't know how he could have doubted that wonderful, little, blue drug.
"How are you feeling?" he was vaguely aware of Rotti asking him, as he drifted in and out of consciousness and ecstasy. He forgot all about River. About his father, about the Alliance and the BlueSun Corp.
"I can't feel nothing at all..." his words slurred together.
"I know." Rotti grinned.
When Simon finally came to, he noticed a cut running along his abdomen from navel to collar-bone, done up neatly with staples. Rotti is still there, cleaning a bunch of utensils.
"You... operated on me?" Simon demanded, a mounting horror clearing the fog in his head. Rotti laughed.
"Don't worry. I put everything back. If it 'aint broke, and all that... I just wanted to know how complete the anaesthetic was."
Simon gingerly pulled on his shirt, and buttoned it up over the wound. As the drug wore off he became aware of the pain- stretchy and sharp all at once. It would become another scar, to add to his collection.
"Are there any... side effects?"
"I guess we'll see."
xXx
River watches Simon from the door, the Shepherd's old bible clutched tight in her hands. Simon has twisted his blankets into a mess, as if he had been writhing around in his sleep, but now he lays as still and pale as a corpse, a sheen of sweat standing out on his brow. His face is contented, though. This is what disturbs her the most.
"Oh hey River!" Kaylee's sing-song voice assaults her ears and River whirls around with her finger to her lips.
"You'll wake the dead" she whispers.
"Dead?" Kaylee whispers back, before glancing over River's shoulder, into the room beyond. "Oh, you mean Simon?" she giggles, "He does look a bit like a stiff, du'n he? But he's very much alive. Look-" she points "you can see him breathing."
"Bandages breathe. So does the earth. So do corpses." River said, bouncing on the balls of her feet in distress, "When the Lamb opened the fourth seal, I heard the voice of the fourth living creature say, 'Come and see!'" As she speaks her voice rises in pitch: a keening cry.
"River, hush down now, or you'll wake him up-"
"I looked and there before me was a pale horse. Its rider was named Death, and Hades was following close behind him," Shocked and frightened, Kaylee draws the smaller girl into a tight embrace.
"Shhhhh, shhhhhh. Simon's not dead, River."
"He gave away his life. He sold it. He sold it to get me back."
River cries softly into Kaylee's shoulder...
xXx
… Inside the room- inside his dreams- Simon is finally beginning to stir. Half-formed thoughts battle their way through the heavy blanket of the drug that presses down upon them. He wonders how much Zydrate is left in the stash of medicine. Enough, he thinks. Enough to last him a while. A barely formed idea bubbles up to the surface. The months and months of careful examining... his attempts at diagnosis... suppression of the psychosis... He was looking for this. This bliss. This serenity.
Simon knows what to give his sister.
A/N: So this fic was brought to you by KnutCase, who texted me late last night while she was watching Firefly, saying that Simon was using something that looked like Zydrate.
I hope you liked it! Let me know what you think!
Candy