Regard this as a sort of continuation of "Delusions for the Living" , if you will. It is not very necessary, however, to have read that oneshot to understand this, as this story stands well as its own beast. It's my take on Simon's OCD from that story starting to go into extreme territories, so I guess it's also sort of AU from the 'Verse. The style is also different from the original "Delusions for the Living", due to this story being ever so slightly different. Depending on if I get reviews and what you reviewers say, it may or may not become a multi-chapter endeavour.
Please read & review; feedback is much appreciated~!
The droplets of water bite at his already bright red skin as he stands under the spray.
It takes Simon longer to shower himself than it does for him to take care of River on those days when she needs the supervision. If she feels the same filthy ache all over that he does then she never breathes a word of it (that he can understand) however. Simon scrubs his body meticulously, repetitively, until the physical pain masks over his inner turmoil. Until he has to grit his teeth as he washes away soap, chemicals and disgusted thoughts. The water at his feet is stained pink; miniscule streams of blood run down him from raw patches of skin. Not so suddenly, the feeling of being so very dirty plagues him again.
Thrice has River burst into the shower, slipping into the water and grabbed at his hands. Whimpering, refusing to leave until he turned off the water and got himself presentable, dragging him back to the bunk with her. He'd sit on her bed with still dripping hair and hold her until she was calm once more. He no longer bothers trying to deny that he knows the cause of her distress when she does this. He still tries to shield her from his nakedness, his wounds, though. He hasn't succeeded too magnificently. Once he's woken up to River rubbing some salve into his skin, joked that it was a change from rubbing soup into his hair, her steely glance told him more than he wanted to know about the situation. When Jayne of all people had picked up on the scent of the salve, River none too subtly and far too nonchalantly redirected the conversation to sex. Nobody spoke until Inara offered to handle the topic after breakfast
Mei-mei has always been such a good secret keeper. He's never known whether this is a good thing.
His muscles taught and heavy with tension and bleakness, Simon positions himself more directly under the flow of water. He claws at his scalp and brings long, red burning marks onto his skin as he renews the ritual, longing to rid himself of this feeling. He wishing that the obsessive hand-washing was once more enough. Blue eyes bright with tears roam the room, lingering on the closed door before his eyelids close.
Losing himself in the water, Simon's knees almost give way as he's bombarded by memories.
Memories of Mother and Father are replaced by memories of River, school, River, the MediCad, River, the hospital, River. Letters, codes, hopeless pleas fill his head before being shunted aside by the realisation that he's reached a place he's never been before. He's branded with a special status he's always feared.
Failure.
The word defiles ever fibre of his being, causes his insides to clench and a sob to catch in his throat, as it takes over his identity bit by bit each day. He has failed his parents by abandoning everything on a hunch, failed River by not saving her sooner, and failed the Captain and crew by bringing more trouble. He's killing himself over the grief, anger, desperation, guilty, love that's swelling within him with every breath. He could've found a way to prevent all of this; he should find a way to make it all better.
Simon turns the shower off and assaults his raw body with the towel, brought back to reality by white cloth turning bloodied and cold metal flooring shocking his tired feet. Dressing in an outfit he's worn countless times in the last several weeks and hiding the offending towel in his laundry, Simon gulps down air and makes his way to the infirmary, his little sister, and the last few sparks of hope.
It's been another long day.