Broken Beautiful
Simon was taking stock of his narcotics to make sure Jayne wasn't abusing them when Kaylee breezed in, clutching her right palm with her opposite thumb. Simon turned and, seeing the bright droplets of blood hanging off the side of her hand, felt his heart jump into his throat. He swallowed it back down and crossed to her, wondering why Kaylee being injured seemed so much worse than say, Jayne or Mal.
"What happened?" He asked her, guiding her to the exam table and gently prying her fingers away from the wound with his own.
"Just sliced it open on a fan blade, is all," Kaylee said, settling down comfortably on the cold table. "Thought it might need a few stitches."
It was a mess. "Can you curl your fingers?" She did with a grimace. "Well, you didn't get your tendons."
"That's good?" Kaylee asked, peering in to look at it. The top of her head brushed against Simon's, and he was very aware of how close her face was.
"Um, yeah," He said, gently pushing her shoulder back. "Lean back. I need the light to see," He said with a smile. "How bad does it hurt?"
"Oh, not too bad. Had worse." Indeed, he noticed as he examined closer, her hands were callused and scarred, networks of ridged tissue dotted with discolored burn marks. Kaylee was so dedicated to Serenity, Simon realized, even though the ship practically ate her hands. She laid back and let him work, chatting at him as he sewed her palm back together. He loved the sound of her voice, jovial and completely free of pain, and he knew he was doing his job right.
His mother used to collect maps and globes; a few of the first colonized worlds, one of Earth–That–Was valued at a ridiculous amount, and carved, inlayed renditions of nearly every planet of the Core. They were colorful and delicate, kept away from Simon and River's curious fingers by glass and laser guards. He always thought they were beautiful, and that was why they were kept locked away – beautiful things would be broken by human touch.
So he marveled at Kaylee's hands. There was dirt and grease so far into the creases of her fingernails it would impossible to extract it; the nails themselves were short and chipped, discolored by bruises and vitamin deficiency; he traced her map of scars with his soft, skilled fingers and discovered that beauty was meant to be touched, even if it was filthy and bleeding and irrepressibly cheerful.
She thanked him when he was done with a smile as bright as a sun, waving good–bye with her bandaged hand. River came in a few minutes later, finding Simon sitting on the table tugging on a piece of suture thread. "They flew by the faerie moon," She told him seriously. "It was blue."
"Hey, mei–mei," He said. "How are you feeling?"
She eyed him. "Not sleepy."
He smiled at her, his broken but beautiful sister, and beckoned her to sit next to him. She did, and he put his arms around her. "Simon?" River said, her voice edged with panic.
"I'm fine, River," He told her. "I just wanted to hold the most beautiful girl in the settled universe." River laid her head against his chest, and Simon savored the silence, wondering if he or River needed healing more.