My existence is hell, this is hell, I'm in hell. I woke up in the Infirmary, actually I came to awareness in the Infirmary. I could feel something wrapped around my torso so tight I could barely breathe and there was something unbearably itchy on my face, but I couldn't scratch. I tried lifting my arms but I couldn't muster the strength, so I laid there in misery, and itchiness. My head felt as if it hung above me separate from my body and five times its usual size. Everything that was once easy to do like, breathing for example, became difficult and I was sure that if I didn't pay the upmost attention to doing it, then I'd die. So I laid still and tried my hardest not to die, and as time passed I drifted off.
The next time I awoke was infinitely worse than the last, rather than the heavy weight of something on my chest, all I could feel was a burning so terrible I was sure I was on fire. I tried lifting my arms to pat the fire out but I couldn't, my arms were paralyzed and no matter how hard I tried I couldn't lift them. I tried moving my legs, my head, anything but nothing would move. I began to hyperventilate which made the pain on my chest flare. My vision wavered and I felt my stomach twist and next thing I knew I spewed the contents of my stomach, but I couldn't turn my head and soon I choked on it, tasting it, trying my hardest to swallow it back down but not being able to do it fast enough…I was wrong, this is hell.
Later, I came to lying slightly upright in my bed. I turned and there I could see River sitting in a chair next to my bed. I tried my hardest not to call attention to myself, I just wanted to rest. But my face still itched and so I scratched. Though my chest aches and burns with what fells like fire straight from the depths of hell, the relief that floods through my system at being able to easily move my limbs pulls a groan from deep within it. River looks up at me and smiles, a bit disconcerting.
"Big word," she says getting up and filling a glass with water, "you really scared us you know, if Zoe hadn't been there you would have drowned in your own vomit. That would have been a bad way to go, at least for the big bad Jayne. Simon would have been angry too, after hours of surgery, to die in your own vomit would have been the ultimate insult to him."
She hands me the glass of water and I take long pulls of water so good and refreshing I would have happily drowned in it. After finishing it I hand the glass back and she fills it up half way and hands it back.
"I'm sorry," I say and finish off the glass of water. I look down at myself and to the layers of badges covering my chest.
"Not your fault…just don't going doing it again anytime soon," with that she pranced her way out of the room. To fill in the emptiness I tried remembering what had happed that got me in this mess. I remember a busy market place, and going to set up the meeting. Mal, Zoe, and me were there and so was the rest of the crew, though they drifted off to look around the market place. I don't remember much after that, just parts here and there, boring details I didn't bother paying attention to then, but sharply aware of it now. I remember a woman, poor and dark, she was saying something about her son and then…and then I woke up in the Infirmary.
I tried to get out of bed, it was slow going and when finally got my leg over the side of the bed I was drenched with sweat and breathing heavily. My chest still burned and, curious, I lifted some of the bandages to see underneath, what was there was a large row of staples straight across the top of one side of my chest to the bottom of the other.
"Sorry about that," said Simon surprising me bad enough to flinch, which just irritated my chest and caused it to pulse with pain, "the hole was so big none of the synthetic adhesives would hold it close and all I had in the Med Bay was the Dermal Mender and the staples…and the mender couldn't close the hole so I had to use the staples…"
Simon was looked around the room with the interest of a person who's trying their hardest to avoid your gaze.
"Don't worry about it Doc, you saved my life and that's worth a few staples across the chest and a butt ugly scar," Simon looked up from the floor and gave a tentative smile. I rubbed my hands across the scratchy wool blanket waiting for Simon to say something. Instead he just stared at me like he was waiting for me to do something like evaporate into thin air or, more likely, fall over dead.
Behind him I could see Mal walking towards us and I couldn't help let out a small groan,
"So I see our princess hired gun finally awoke from her deep sleep," said Mal walking into my room as if he owned it…which I guess he did…but still. "So, Simon did you kiss our princess awake,"
"Very funny Captain, it's nice to see you so worried about the health of your crew. If you were wondering Jayne isn't ready to go on any jobs-"
"There's a job," I interrupted Simon eliciting a slight frown from him,
"No, at least not for you," said Simon staring Mal down, daring him to contradict doctors orders. Mal must have got the clue since he turned to leave.
"Fine, Jayne can stay but that means I'll need to find someone to fill his place, that means you Doc,"
"What, no…I can't… I still need to run some test on Jayne to make sure he's healing well,"
"Well in that case I'll take you sister,"
"What, no…I mean…I'm sure the job will go fine even with a person missing,"
"It's okay," said River popping her head out of one of the over head hatches, "Jayne needs to rest and you're the only one who can make sure he's healthy so I'll go, and don't worry," she said interrupting Simon in his process of worrying, "nothing exciting is going to happen."
With that she and Mal left and I was left alone with Simon who was still looking at me strangely. Not in the mood to do anything but rest, maybe eat, I started to make my way slowly out of bed, to stand.
"Are you…okay," asked Simon looking at me expectantly,
"I'm fine…"I said wondering were exactly he was trying to go with this.
"No I mean are you okay, do you maybe want to talk…" asked Simon, making me wonder what the gorram hell he was talking about,
"What the gorram hell are you talking about," I asked trying my best to lift myself out of bed and failing miserably.
Simon walked over to me and helped me out of bed, but instead of helping me to the kitchen he walked me to the Infirmary and sat me down on the examination table. After an hour of poking and prodding and general doctoring, he finally let me eat…by bringing me something down since he didn't want me to "exert" myself on the walk up.
After that things settled down and I was left alone in my room for some time. As I waited for something, anything to happen, I again tried to reconstruct the events of my getting shot. The women, her son, the job… The sound of the gun, the blackness, and now, but no matter how hard I tried I couldn't remember…I guess I can always ask Mal…but I hate being in any debt to him. His favors are always the worst imaginable thing, the bastard. Too bad, guess I won't be finding out anytime soon.
Simon wandered into my room and asked how I was feeling for what felt like the hundredth time, and like each time said I was fine. He told me that I still wasn't ready to be getting out of bed and that I should at least rest for the next two days. He made me realize how tired I actually felt and so I decided to lay down in bed and try and sleep. So for the next hour or so I spent my time trying to sleep but I couldn't, the pain, strain and exhaustion of my muscles, the reasons why I wanted to sleep, were keeping me awake. I struggled with my mind and body; one too weak, the other flawed, I'm sure the crew would have a great time deciding which was which…Later Simon walked into the room to check on me, again.
"Are you still awake," he asked sitting down in the chair that River had previously been sitting in, he folded his legs and began reading a book he was holding. I closed my eyes and tried to sleep through my irritation. Gorram it, why did all shit have to fall on me, why was I the one who always got shot through the chest, couldn't it be Mal more, that would be shiny and why was I the one who always got left alone with the gorram doctor. I looked up and, sure enough, Simons still there. I groan not caring if he hears me, I'm tired, I just want to sleep, and I don't want to stay up to have a talk.
"Are you feeling well, are you in pain, I can give you something to help ease the edge off," as Simon continues his long diatribe about pain killers, I begin to think about whether I should bring up my brief stint in hell and its resulting paralysis, or should I bring up the nightmares…I mean he did say that if I wanted to talk, fuck it,
"Simon I…well…lately I've been having trouble sleeping-"
"are the staples in your chest keeping you up, is it the pain cause like I said I can give you something for that-"
"No doc, I've been getting them since before, I just…I can't sleep anymore not since what happened…on Miranda…I have these nightmares…" that's as far as I can go, it's too embarrassing to say anymore, to show him how weak I really am…
Simon just sits there looking at me with his book in his hands, I close my eyes and rub my hands against the bandages on my chest trying to distract myself from how miserable I am right now. The nightmares had been getting worse and I tried to stay up as often as I could…then I got shot. The market place, the women, the gun…I saw the gun she had it in her hands she lifted it pointed it…
"If they're really bad I can give you a mild sedative, have you had any nightmares since your…accident,"
"No…I haven't, but once when I came to, I couldn't move it was like someone was holding me down…"
"An allergic reaction possibly…or maybe the dose was too high…or maybe the mixture of different medicines caused-"
"It don't matter what happened I just know I don't want it to happen again."
"…Well if you really want to we can start out with low doses and slowly build them up to see how it affects you…but only if you can't sleep without them. Maybe it would do you some good to talk about your dreams,"
"I don't think I can doc…"again the feeling of inadequacy and weakness dripped to every part of my body. The shame I felt for does dreams and the futility in not being able to stop them…the people, my people, the blood, the screams, my mother, everyone left to the birds, to rot, like carrion.
Simon sat there clearly wondering what he could do for me and came to the same conclusion as I did, at the same time, that there probably wasn't anything he could do or any drugs he could give me that could possibly make things better. So we sat there together and through the silence, I closed my eyes and tried to sleep and for the first time in a long time I didn't feel so alone and so scared and as long as Simon was going to sit there then maybe I could sleep…