She tries the brontosaurus first.
If her biology books on extinct creatures are anything to go by, then the tallish green toy with its chubby body, long curved neck and four stubby legs is a fairly accurate anatomic representation of the herbivore which once used to roam Earth-That-Was. More importantly, the thing has a huge smile etched on its face and looks like it couldn't be more amused by the mishaps and misfortunes that happen around it on a regular basis. The animal stands on the navigation panel, next to the rest of Wash's dinosaurs and the fragile-looking palm tree, and as River sneaks off with it she concludes that if there's anything to keep her mind occupied with the tangible reality of Wash's whimsy, it's this.
But then the needle punctures her eye and she clenches her fist so hard her knuckles crack, the cheap plastic gives way and the toy breaks, leaving only a neck and grinning head in her hand. And although the sound of the animal's body and legs clinking off the floor indeed does bring her back to Serenity's infirmary, chasing away the dispassionate faces from Simon's eyes, River doesn't exactly relish the prospect of having to lie to Wash about why she made off with a prized part of his menagerie in the first place, let alone saw fit to destroy it.
She still brings the fragments to the cockpit and apologizes, her mother's lessons on good manners mixing up in her head with one of captain's many lectures about how he ain't mad, he'd just like her to take a right look at the unscrewed empty salt shaker next to his protein bowl and fess up if she don't want him to stuff the gorram grub up her pigu.
Wash, however, doesn't linger on good manners or threats of imminent pigu-stuffing, nor does he require any explanation from her. Giving her the understanding look of indulgent pity she's come to expect from him over the past few months, he accepts the broken toy when she hands it over to him, and says no need to fret, he'll simply work the dark magic of glue on it; there may be a slight danger to his immortal soul but hey, you'll never make it big if you ain't willing to take some chances.
River's second attempt several days later involves borrowing incense sticks from Inara's shuttle. This is actually the closest she comes to telling Simon the truth because when he asks her why she's trying to compromise the cleanness of his medical room, River answers that the scent will make it easier for her to calm down. She doesn't elaborate that the smoky pungent aroma clings to the Companion's expensive clothes wherever she goes, and lulls River into dreamless sleep every time she tries to shoo away her demons by curling up atop Inara's luxurious bedding. River has to light a lot of the sticks for the desired effect to take place, though, and the end result is that Simon starts complaining of a pounding headache not even fifteen minutes in. The incense extinguished, it can no longer travel the many parsecs to the brightly-lit test room where she's being held.
After this unmitigated failure, River squeezes her body into the most remote corner of the top catwalk spanning the cargo bay and proceeds to ponder the best strategy for her third attempt. Catching glimpses of the crew whiling away their time by playing one of the ballgames she participates in whenever Simon deems her sufficiently fit for this "rough pastime" – which is almost never – she reasons that having Zoe's sturdy choker to tug at might solve her problem once and for all. For one thing, the necklace practically screams "Zoe", plus it'd be something to occupy her fingers with, without the risk of her breaking it or Simon taking it away.
Of course, there's the tiny issue of actually figuring out how to lay her hands on the piece of jewelry in the first place. River doesn't think she would be able to get a hold of it without first having to provide Zoe with a believable explanation as to why she needs it – something that wouldn't sound like a veritable torrent of gou shi pouring out of her mouth.
That's a no on the choker, then.
Below, the captain steals the ball from Kaylee when he grabs her by the waist and spins her around, earning himself a hard poke in the ribs. When it comes to him, River would prefer keeping all the ways to rouse his grumpiness as a reward to be collected later, during the wonderful time when she's finally done in the infirmary for the day. Which means that, considering her unwillingness to ever mess with any Book-related items ever again, she's left with only two options.
River's heart immediately sets on Kaylee, but after giving it two minutes worth of thought she grudgingly comes to the conclusion that the definitive Kaylee-anything isn't her crazy colored shirts, but the ever-present hugs and beaming smiles. Somehow River doesn't find it overwhelmingly likely that the sunshine-and-daisies mechanic would be able to regularly spend endless hours in the medical bay, watching her not-so-secret crush perform unnerving experiments on his little sister while she holds said sister's hand and forces herself to smile.
Sighing, River reclines against the cold grimy wall and for a moment lets herself indulge in thinking that there's no real reason to do any of this and that she has the option of quitting Simon's tests altogether.
She knows her brother tries, genuinely tries to make it all as painless for her as possible, gently patting her hand and telling her in his kindest doctor voice to relax, that she's perfectly safe and this might pinch a little so just hold still and deep breaths, mei-mei. What he doesn't realize is that all kind doctor voices sound exactly alike and that the sharp light always blinds in the exact same way no matter what room it's placed in, and suddenly the small infirmary has grown in size and is resounding with so many other voices, some calmly commenting on the various aspects of the procedure subject R. Tam is undergoing today, others quietly disclosing their deepest secrets without even realizing it.
That's when she always gets confused and starts wondering if she's in fact still strapped in that chair at the Academy, if perhaps Wash's jokes or Kaylee's warmth or Book's gravity-defying hair are just a part of some elaborate fantasy she dreamt up in the middle of a session in order to escape the physical pain and cutting sense of having been abandoned.
None of this occurs to Simon and she doesn't tell him, aware of how absolutely vital it is to him that she remain in the infirmary where he can continue doing everything in his power to help her, allowing himself to believe he has a chance of actually succeeding.
River doesn't want Simon to know about the mental ache and disorientation his honest efforts cause her. She doesn't want him to succumb to the nagging doubts that curing her might not be possible. She hates chancing upon him when he gazes somewhere in the distance and wordlessly dresses himself down, half-convinced that he came too late, that he could have done more, could have cracked her letter sooner, could have realized at the very beginning that the rutting program she wanted so much to enroll in was simply too good to be true.
That he could have done literally anything else other than completely and utterly fail her.
And so, after she gets up from the catwalk, spends some time haggling with Simon over test-free days and then hides in the ship's vents for an additional day in order the push the deadline the tiniest bit further, River scolds herself and decides to once again come sit in the medical chair. This time, however, she brings out the big guns.
As soon as Jayne notices her waltzing in the mess, swallowed by the faded khaki T-shirt he stuffed in his laundry bag mere hours earlier, he slams his spoon on the table and growls about gorram moonbrain freaks not leaving his gorram things alone, gorramit. Simon can't resist but add that yes, mei-mei, he'd rather appreciate it if he could eat his breakfast without the stench of an unruly man-ape in heat assaulting his nostrils, all the while the captain just raises his eyebrows and silently wonders whether he'll manage to live long enough to ever see the kid's creepifying ways reach their limit.
She ignores them, as well as Book's whispered plea to Jayne that he humor the poor child for once, and instead concentrates on the bowl of protein in front of her, trying her hardest not to dwell on what's to come after she empties it.
But when she later feels the leather of the medical chair scrunch under her hands and hears the voices flooding her ears as Simon adjusts the overhead light and asks her to relax, she brings the soft fabric of Jayne's T-shirt up to her chin, breathing in the scent of smoke, sour sweat, and male and letting herself be grounded by the knowledge that logically, if the garment is in her possession and she truly dug through a pile of smelly socks and underwear in order to get it, then the man himself with his mean words, dismissive looks, whoring ways, and penchant for violent ass-whooping simply can't be a figment of her tortured imagination either.
And if the T-shirt is real and so is the mercenary who gives off every impression that he'd love nothing more than to make sure he'll never be unsettled by her dead-eyed gorram fish stares ever again, yet at the same time allows her to steal his food, peek inside his chore stack during poker nights, and hang around when he works up a sweat in the cargo bay, then maybe Simon is right and she truly can relax, safe in the knowledge that Serenity's underequipped medical bay really is just that.
Maybe she can lie there completely still, bunching up the hem of Jayne's dirty T-shirt in her fist and doing everything in her power to help her brother.
After all, River knows full well that Simon needs all the help he can get.