Sam doesn't like sitting on the examination table, so Simon doesn't ask him to. River's the same way. Considering their past, the doctor can't really blame them. It's honestly a minor miracle that he can convince them to come to the infirmary at all.
Sam hovers at the door, his head almost brushing the top of the doorframe. He was always tall, but now he's getting broad thanks to his daily exercise regime with Jayne. Space was not designed for large men.
"You should restock the bandage cabinet," Sam informs him, in apropos of nothing. "Dean doesn't want Kaylee to catch an infection."
Simon's head snaps up. No one onboard the Serenity has any injuries that Simon knows of.
Sam's eyebrows furrow. "Wait, nevermind, that was before Dean, wasn't it? Kaylee was shot?"
"That was years ago," Simon busies his hands with laying out the tools he needs for Sam's brain scan. "How…" he stops himself from asking. He already knows the answer. River can read minds. Sam can see the future and the past. They live in a spaceship full of criminals on the run from the Alliance. This is Simon's world now. He finds that he doesn't mind it so much anymore. Serenity is his home, and her crew are his family.
"How have your headaches been on the new medicine?" the doctor modifies his question. Sam's headaches are not mere migraines: earlier scans proved that much. Actual tissue was being created and destroyed. Simon wouldn't have believed it possible unless he'd witnessed it with his own eyes.
Sam fiddles nervously with his hands. "Things are better?" His voice is slightly surprised, like he's shocked to discover that he's not in regular agony.
"That's good," Simon soothes. "Could you sit down on the stool? I'd like to take another scan so I can see how your frontal lobe is doing. Hopefully the fact that you've not had any epileptic visions for a while means that it has had a chance to heal."
"Some scars don't heal," Sam informs him with eyes that are too old for his age. But he sits down on the stool without protest. Simon hands him the headgear he needs to wear for the test. One very expensive freakout a few months ago taught him not to assume that anyone besides Dean and maybe River had the right to Sam's personal space. His patient bites his lip nervously before placing the device on his head.
"What's today's date?" he asks in a voice far too small for his large frame.
Simon tells him as he hooks up the wires. He can hear Sam repeating it too himself over the low hum of the machine taking scans.
"You can take that off now," Simon says the instant that he can. Usually, Sam snatches it off of his head like it's on fire. Today, he just grits his teeth and holds the edges of the stool even more firmly.
"I will be fine," he informs Simon quietly. "Keep the scans running."
"Ok," Simon acquiesces, happy to have more time to gather more data. There's something odd about the latest results, but he can't quite put his finger on it…
"Where's Dean?" Sam asks. Simon reflects that he's never heard Sam question where the ship is, or where it is going, only where his brother is located.
"I'm right here," Dean speaks up from the doorway. Simon didn't hear him come in. He never does. Despite the heavy boots and metal-studded leather Dean likes to wear, his approach is always stealthy. Sam's shoulders visibly relax at his brother's voice. "I thought I told you not to start until I was here, Sammy?" Only Dean can call Sam 'Sammy'. Everyone on board learned that very quickly. The older brother's question is a reprimand, but the tone is comforting.
"It's not Simon's fault," Sam says with soft intensity. "He's figured it out."
Simon can hear Dean take a breath to ask for clarification when the readings he's watching go insane. He turns to Sam just in time to see his face scrunch with pain as his nose starts pouring blood. Sam tips sideways on the stool, his limbs trembling uncontrollably. Dean and Simon both dart forward to catch the seizing man, but Dean gets there first despite being further away. The machines hooked to Sam's headgear start wailing as almost every metric blows off the charts.
"Ai yah tien ah," Dean swears over the alarms. "Hold on di-di. I've got you." His scars are starkly red against his pale face as he cradles his thrashing brother. Simon marvels at how such a savage visage could mask such gentle care as he dashes towards the cabinet to find some medication that will stop the seizing. This is the first time he's had the proximity and tools to help Sam get through a vision.
"Don't bother with Penthadox; it just makes the bleeding worse," Dean calls as Simon pulls out a syringe pre-filled with orange fluid. The doctor stares at the scarred man in shock. Penthadox is indeed the drug in his hand, and one of the very rare side effects is uncontrolled bleeding. But how on earth would an uneducated Browncoat know anything about that? It wasn't exactly a common medication.
"I read," Dean snaps, seamingly hearing Simon's thoughts. "And I tried a lot of things once I got Sam de-iced. You got any Q'thenadone? That works best."
The drug is the strongest and most dangerous opioid in Simon's arsenal. It stopped all pain dead in its tracks, but it also severely reduced bloodflow to the brain. Simon doesn't want to know how Dean even got his hands on a controlled substance like that. Or how desperate he had to be to actually use it on his precious brother.
"Yes, but..."
Dean barks out a dose. It's appropriate for Sam's age and size, so Simon complies. Dean has obviously done this before, and if anything should go wrong, at least there's a trained professional monitoring the situation this time. Once the medication is administered, the doctor focuses on the various computer screens still tracking Sam's brain activity. Simon never thought he'd be able to catch one of Sam's rare and random epileptic visions near enough to medbay to record it (to date, he's never even been present to witness one), and it is unlikely to the extreme that he'll ever get such an opportunity again. No doubt he will spend hours pouring over the myriad of information they're collecting now in an attempt to piece together what the Academy tore apart.
Simon can see the instant the drug starts to work. The wild readings plummet towards normality, and Sam's quaking becomes a quiver. Dean strokes his brother's sweat-soaked hair and makes a lame joke about it being too long.
Exactly five minutes after it began, Sam sits bolt upright in Dean's arms.
"Turn this ship around," he orders. No one moves. "Turn it around now," Sam shouts, louder. There's panic in his voice.
"Why?" Mal sticks his head in the door. He must have heard the commotion from the bridge. "Reavers," Sam says flatly, his complexion pale through the blood coating the lower half of his face. "Two reaver ships. They're heading for the colony on Marcus."
"That's where our next job is," Mal narrows his eyes. He knows, just like everyone else in the room, that Sam never seems to know and doesn't seem to care where they are in space. The only two locations that matter are beside Dean and not in the Academy.
"I saw Reavers. On Serenity, on the planet," Sam looks sick. "Killing people."
"How many, Sammy?" Dean prods, "How many on the ship?"
"Just one," Sam gives his brother a significant look. "But dozens on the planet," he tells Simon and Mal.
"Wong ba duhn," Dean swore. "That's the second time you've had this one, right?"
Sam nods before raising his shirt cuff to rub off the blood on his face. His brother beats him to it with a cleaning wipe he pulled from the cabinet somewhere in the scuffle. Simon wishes he had such an easy repartee with his sibling. He also wishes she was half as communicative. She's been better since Sam came aboard, but she'll never just tell him what's going on in her head. At least not in a way he can understand. It's so hard for him to tell what she needs, and he always feels like a failure for missing the mark.
"Turn this ship around, Captain," Dean turns towards Mal. "His visions are never wrong twice."
"Doesn't that mean that there's no escaping?" Simon points out. Wuh de ma, Reavers. The thought doesn't panic him like it used to. Watching River take out twenty Reavers single-handedly in front of you will do that.
"It means that Sam's already figured out the best possible scenario, and how to make it happen," Dean snaps. "We can deal with one Reaver on the ship. If we don't do as he says, it could be twenty."
"You're sure," Mal meets his eye.
"Completely."
A/N: I'm not a doctor, and all I know about seizures I learned from WebMD. All drugs are fake. Don't take opioids without doctor supervision.
According to the Firefly wiki, di-di means 'little brother'. Wong ba duhn means 'son of a bitch'.
I'm still taking prompts, so if there's anything you want to see, let me know in a review/PM!