It is at the edge of the petal that love waits. William Carlos Williams
4
River was dreaming a memory. She was three years old, and she had been playing hide and seek with her brother and some others, children of her parents' friends. She had hid in the woods, but hidden too well, and no one had found her. At first, it had been funny, listening to the far off cries of people trying to find her, but then it had grown frightening. She thought she would be forgotten, and forget her way home, and become overgrown with plants, forever trapped in the forest.
Then Simon had found her and she'd thrown her arms around him, sobbing. He'd laughed, hugging her, picking her up.
"I'll always find you," he promised her.
She opened her eyes and rested her forehead against his. She remembered when he'd rescued her from the academy and that he'd been there when she'd woken up from cryo-storage, how he'd held her then, too, making sure she wasn't alone with her fear. He had kept his promise; he'd found her again.
River felt a glimmer of Simon at the back of his mind, buried deep beneath the anesthetics and the analgesics. Carefully, she wrapped herself around it, giving him comfort and a sense of love. He had taken care of her when she'd most needed it; now it was her turn to help him.
"I'll always find you, Simon," she whispered.
He was breathing on his own now, toward the close of the second day. River had stayed with him, moving aside, when the nurse took the breathing tube out. This time, Simon couldn't feel anything. No pain. No fear.
Doctor Jansen told River that her brother would probably awaken sometime during the night. Right now, he was somewhere between sleep and unconsciousness, traveling that wispy road, barely aware that she was there. She hadn't left since she'd been allowed to see him the day before, except to use the bathroom. Inara and the ICU nurse had both brought her some food, so she could maintain her vigil. Simon had always been there for her.
He looked more real now, without the tube down his throat, but he still had a mask covering his mouth and nose. He was like a doll, she thought, one of the fragile kinds that children weren't allowed to play with, that sat up shelves, gathering dust, always breakable.
She thought about how his hands might not work and wanted to cry. River reached for them, enveloping them in her own.
"Not his hands," she whispered, repeating it like a prayer. "Not his hands."
If he couldn't speak, she could speak for him, and if he could move his hands, he could write. But if he lost the function in his hands, he wouldn't be a doctor anymore. He wouldn't be the same Simon, because that was the largest part of who Simon was.
River wanted to talk to Sheperd Book, to hear his words of comfort, but he was silent now, as silent as her brother, just as unable to speak. She bowed her head over her brother's hands, touching her forehead to her knuckles. She didn't want to be alone anymore.
Inara came in and River looked up. The older woman was dressed all in white, like a beautiful, poignant ghost. She glided over to stand beside River, gazing down at Simon, who had not moved, who still could not move.
"He's breathing on his own," River whispered. It was impossible to speak at a normal volume in here, in case death noticed the person you were with, and became curious.
Inara nodded.
"I spoke with Doctor Jansen," she said, and River understood that everything she knew about Simon's condition, Inara also knew.
"Come with me, River," Inara said, and River looked up at her, puzzled.
"I need to stay here," she replied.
"You're exhausted and you need some rest. Simon is all right. He's sleeping."
River looked back down at her silent brother. It wouldn't matter if she was away from him now, she'd always be with him in a way. Without further protest, she stood, leaning over to kiss Simon's forehead, then followed Inara out of the tiny curtained room.
"Let us know if anything changes," Inara told the nurse, who nodded. She led River away, through the hospital, which was silent at this hour. Usually, it only served Companions, but that service was extended when necessary to their families or friends. The city, Insawa, had several public hospitals, and River was glad they weren't there. She knew the Alliance had not given up on her or Simon, and wanted him here, where he was safe in more ways than one.
Inara led her into the Companion's temple, which had surprised River. She'd never seen one, even when living with her parents in the core planets. It was quieter than the hospital, but a serene quiet, not one that hovered on the verge of emergency. Here, there was sanctuary, in a way River had not understood before. The lighting was dim, the décor deep and rich. Faint strains of calming music caught her ears, but she could not tell where it was coming from.
A man glided past them, nodding briefly at Inara, his dark, luminous eyes skirting over River without any curiosity or judgment. A moment later, he was gone.
"Is he a Companion?" River whispered to Inara. The older woman simply smiled, but River heard the unspoken reply and raised her eyebrows. Very few men chose or were chosen for this path.
Inara led River to a lavish set of suites. She still had her shuttle here, River knew, but this was for her own use while visiting the Temple, and clients never stepped foot in here. To keep up appearances, Inara had taken a client or two over the past day. She wanted no attention drawn to herself by an abrupt halt in business, because it might point right to River and Simon.
The suite was composed of three rooms, a elegantly decorated sitting room, done in hues of dark woods, navy and deep red, a large bedroom with thick, dark curtains that shut out the light from the city and gave a feeling of warmth and security, and a large bathroom off the bedroom. Inara led River into the bedroom and handed her a dark blue silk robe.
"Put this on," she said and slipped out of the room. River obeyed and Inara came back in a few minutes later. She sat River down at the vanity and began brushing her hair in slow, even strokes. River felt the tension begin to drain from her shoulders. When Inara was finished, she bathed River's face and hands with a lightly scented soap, then with fresh, cool water, before dabbing a touch of lavender oil on both pulse points of River's neck. She moved silently about the room, lighting candles here and there, then drew back the silk covers on the large bed.
"Here," she said softly and River obeyed, climbing into bed, and allowing herself to be tucked in like a small child. "Sleep," Inara said, kissing her gently on the forehead. She knew without asking that the older woman would wake her if there was any news. River closed her eyes and listened as Inara tiptoed out of the room, shutting the door softly behind her. She caught the subtle scent of the candles and fell asleep.
Zoe understood what Kaylee was doing. The young woman had thrown herself into her work, so that the engines were running as well as they had been since Malcolm had bought the ship. Maybe even better than that. It was the easiest way to block out the pain without resorting to raiding Simon's stash of pain killers. She doubted Kaylee was going to set foot in the infirmary right now anyway. Zoe had found herself avoiding it, too, so that she would not trigger the memory of the doctor lying like dead on the floor.
But when Wash had died, he had died fast. Zoe could tell it was driving Kaylee crazy, not knowing what was happening. Was Simon awake? Could he speak? Could he move his hands? Kaylee worked until she was ready to drop, ate a quick, silent meal in the mess, then went to bed. The roses, Simon's last gift to her, had been thrown out by Malcolm before Kaylee could see them again. Zoe didn't know if that was a kindness or not.
Inara would call if something unexpected happened, and Zoe found herself hoping the com stayed silent. Unspoken, but acknowledged, was the fact that she would call if Simon died. Zoe knew that wasn't likely, but she could see the possibility hovering over Kaylee's head like a curse.
They were one day away from the rendezvous, and two more days out from Attune. Zoe wondered if Kaylee would work herself beyond the point of exhaustion by then. She sighed to herself, because she knew there was nothing she could do. Only one person could make Kaylee feel better now, and he was almost as far from her as Wash now was from Zoe. Almost, but not quite.
Simon awoke gasping, reaching up to yank the oxygen mask from his face. River, who had been dozing, snapped awake and grinned.
"His hands!" she exclaimed, then: "Nurse!"
Simon managed to pull the mask down and turned, his wild eyes finding hers. River grasped his hands and he fumbled, then closed his fingers around hers.
"You're all right, Simon, you're all right," she soothed as the nurse and Doctor Jansen hurried in. Jansen put a hand on Simon's chest until he stilled, but his eyes were still wide, and bright with fear.
"Good," Jansen said calmly. "Simon, my name is Elaine Jansen. You're in the Companion's hospital in Insawa. You've been here for two days, and you're being treated for prairie rose toxin. You and your sister are safe, I promise."
The fear began to edge out of Simon's eyes and he managed to nod. He parted his lips to speak, and River could see him struggling suddenly.
"… Ay…" he managed, his face contorting with effort. Jansen nodded.
"Your fine motor control for the facial muscles controlling speech have been affected. This is common with rose toxin. We're going to treat you as much as we can, but I have to warn you, you will probably never regain complete function again."
He stared at her as if he words didn't make sense, then looked up at River. She nodded, squeezing his hands, and he squeezed back. The feeling of relief was so intense she felt as if she might collapse. His hands were all right.
"Iv," he managed, looking up at River, then looking around the room. She understood him, even without trying.
"They went to make the delivery. They'll be back in two days. Kaylee didn't want to go, but she had to."
Simon nodded. River wondered if he'd be able to smile still, without the fine motor ability in his face.
"We're going to do what we can," Jansen promised. "We have to start by running some tests."