Prompt: Crash
WC: 1203 words
[ this is my first fanfic published here and i'm doing it as a part of a making-yourself-comfortable-with-your-writing sort of challenge. hope you enjoy! ]
So Simon was still getting used to this ship that was Serenity. He was far more comfortable in the world of plushy pillows and getting whatever he wanted, but this was wasn't for him. This was for River. This was for making her better, and he certainly couldn't do that by hauling her back to the world that could (would) rather hate sent her away to be tested on like a lab rat. She'd been through enough trauma, in his opinion.
Every night he did the same thing: get her medicine, get her water, get her in bed; after that, well, he was free. As insensitive as it sounded, he really did relish in the moments of silence. When only the hum of the engine could remind him that he was indeed on a ship and not tucked in to his bed like on Osiris, he found himself looking more and more forward to the times when he could sit in the mess hall and think-actually think. And that's what he was doing tonight.
It took a lot for him to be doing this, he thought. To be throwing himself out of the world he knew and loved and tossing it all away , but nonetheless he was happy to be doing it. Whether his parents approved or not, he knew he was doing the right thing. For once, he knew it in his own heart rather than through the words of his father's booming voice and intimidating stance. He knew it through his own mind and not through the guilt-inducing expressions his mother offered whenever he would even question his life's decisions. But most importantly, he saw it in River's eyes when he was knelt down to calm her and in the way she shook and even sometimes shied away from his touch. The thought of her being with someone else in that state... Well, it was one that made him feel almost sick to his stomach.
He was pulled out of his thought induced trance when he heard the rather loud slam of the metal door. It made his body jump and jolt and his pale skin turned near white. By traditional timekeeping it was almost four in the morning and by anyone's standards, the crew should have been asleep. Should have. Yet, the physician was met with the broad shoulders and intimidating stride that matched Jayne. The supposed 'public relations' guru that most likely had a few concerning fetishes, if you were going by just how close those guns were to the photos of near naked women on his wall.
But Simon preferred not to think about that, as he was sure the rest of the crew agreed. His eyes followed the man only briefly, before he would get caught and questioned about /why/ he was daring to look at him and moreover why he was even awake. As the resident 'newbie' to the crew, he didn't particularly want to answer the loads of questions that could be asked pertaining to this topic. Too sensitive, or rather, it would make him look that way. Unfortunately, the mercenary 's eyes were too quick.
"There a reason you're starin' at me?"
"-No, not at all. I was just wondering-What are you doing up? If I'm not mistaken, we're docking tomorrow and the captain usually favors having you along."
"Doc, you been on-what, two or three trips with us? In my book, that don't constitute you bein' able to ask me questions like that. Or assume anythin' about me."
As much as that made Simon with he could have pointed out just how much Jayne (and the rest of the crew, for that matter) seemed to love making assumptions of him and his family (and just about anything else they could), he kept his mouth shut. He was a genius after all, he knew when to be quiet and not question the big man-ape, especially not when said near primate had picked up a heavy looking bottle of alcohol.
It was less than a surprise, really.
Simon had seen him drink during the day, always having that bottle beside him, or sitting by his plate when they did sit down to eat, or when they'd stopped by that moon. First thing the mercenary did was get a drink, if Simon remembered correctly. Plus he showed all sorts of signs of alcoholism, from the irritability to the way his hands shook when the captain actually did tell him he needed to lighten up on the whiskey. Whiskey? Whatever it was-Simon hadn't been paying much attention to anything but the book in his hands when he'd heard that argument happening.
Had the man just left, Simon wouldn't have thought much about the intrusion. Just chalked it down to another mannerism of the already incredibly rude man and let it go, but unfortunately he just couldn't. Not when he heard the bottle crash to the floor, and definitely not when he'd already rushed over to see a fair amount of blood gushing from the mercenary's cut hand. The doctor in him was in autopilot, urging him to go to the infirmary instead of just letting it go, like he was sure Jayne would have preferred.
"I'll clean up the glass in a few minutes, just go," Simon ordered. /Ordered/. It wasn't his place in the usual day's events to be ordering crew around, but it was a perk of being the official ship's physician. He even outranked the captain, at times.
"Doc, it ain't more than a cut, I ain't gonna let you cut on me over nothin'." Just a cut? Yeah, a cut that would need five or six stitches at best. Simon could only scoff at the dismissal.
"I won't need to operate. But if you don't, I'm legally obligated to sedate you." Not really. Well, maybe. Usually his patients weren't quite so adamant. The look of not only utter malice, but disbelief as well prompted another statement from Simon. A less confident but hopefully more effective one.
"I'll call the captain, I promise."
The pause was uncomfortable for both of them. Simon was on his knees, attempting to clean up whatever of the glass he could get without cutting his fingers up and Jayne was simply standing there, holding his wrist upright and inspecting the glass embedded in the deep gash. He'd gotten worse in jobs, but that was when Zoe was the only one there to stitch him up and saying no to one of Zoe's orders was basically a death sentence. Especially when the captain was standing at the doorway of the infirmary, hands gripping at the front of his belt buckle and giving that look that'd make anyone submissive.
The mercenary considered Simon's statement while avoiding eye contact at all costs. Finally, he gave a muttered of an answer. "-Fine." Another pause, this one considerably shorter but no less awkward.
"But I better get a lollipop or some shit after."
