Not According to Plan
Chapter Seven: Revelations
River had been able to sleep but the dreams were another matter. At some point Siciline had snuck back to her own room without notice, but River watched her closely over breakfast nonetheless. Breakfast was a very quiet affair, even with all the traffic through the dining area. Simon and Siciline sat next to each other, but awkwardly. River sat across from them, absent-mindedly toying with her food as she studied her brother and her friend. The rest of the crew was quick and quiet retrieving their breakfast and going on their way. All but Kaylee, who cheerfully wished them a good morning on her way through to the engine room. River knew Mal was avoiding the dining area to avoid starting anything. Inara did not make an appearance.
Siciline assumed Mal was on the bridge but she did not want to interfere. Mal's second in command didn't look like she would tolerate much. And she didn't like the way the big, mercenary-looking fellow watched her. Not to mention River, who had been watching her for some time, though she tried to hide it.
It was River who finally gave up, muttering "pointless" to herself as she cleared away her dishes and glided towards the cargo bay, her preferred haunt.
"Just you and me," Siciline murmured.
Simon nodded, intent on his mug of tea.
"Did you want to talk about anything else?"
He shrugged.
"You know, I thought I loved you once too," she said, pushing the remains of her breakfast around her plate with a chopstick.
This news caught Simon's attention.
"Yes, back when I was a silly, naïve girl and you were a hotshot new doctor. You didn't notice me anymore. Everyone around you sang your praises and you didn't mind a bit. Remember my accident? When I crashed my father's speeder blocks from the hospital? I did it on purpose Simon; I wanted your attention. Which I got of course, best medical attention in the 'verse. You never saw me. You had the hospital and you had River."
Simon was speechless.
"I'm sorry. I was blunt."
"Sisi, you almost lost your legs in that crash. I don't understand, why didn't you say anything?"
"You were never there. And when you were it was because I was the only one who would listen to you about River. I didn't want to interrupt that."
"So what, so you're saying that we can't anymore, that now—"
Siciline sighed. "It's not that simple. I told you, I've been through a lot."
"Yes, I know, you and the captain."
"Not just with Mal. Things just have a way of complicating themselves is all. You should know that. Did you really ever expect to end up here?"
"No."
"See, I ran away hoping to find a life like this. Plain, simple, nothing sugar-coated about it. Real. Yes, difficult at times, but you get to loving something the more you have to fight for it."
"You sound just like the captain."
"That's not the point."
"What is the point then?"
"Simon, I don't think we can just pick up where we left off. We've changed too much. I'm overjoyed to have found you again. But I can't go down that same road." Siciline stood and collected her dishes.
Leave her alone Simon. You've done enough already.
Siciline focused keenly on washing her dishes and not on Simon, who was standing on the other side of the counter. She couldn't stop thinking. About Simon. About Mal. About everything she had lived through alone on Beaumonde. She didn't know who she was supposed to be now.
"You're not washing."
"What?" She looked up.
"You stopped washing a few minutes ago," Simon observed. "Are you okay?"
"Yes. I just…" She finished cleaning her dishes and put them away.
"Please, let me in. You can tell me."
Siciline was staring at her hands as they gripped the edge of the counter. She didn't want to cry in front of him. She'd have to explain herself. She blinked away the tears and turned around to excuse herself. What she saw instead was Mal watching silently from the doorway, unbeknownst to Simon.
"I can't," she said hurriedly. "Not yet. Now please, I need to be alone." She fled the kitchen for her bunk.
From where she lay on the floor of the cargo hold, River was trying to piece together all the snippets of memory and emotion she was reading from Siciline. It was going to be more work than she had anticipated.
