Matters Settled

Finally, dear Lord, I pray for Serenity herself.  I pray that you can use the ship, use the crew to your greater good.  I pray that you can use me, Lord.  That I may be a shine your light as the darkness presses down on the small ship.  Protect us from those who would do us harm, evil in its myriad forms.  Set before us righteous tasks and give us the strength to complete them.  Guide us and protect us Lord, this I pray, in the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit.  Amen

*   *   *

            Simon heard humming.  It was distant, soft, pleasant.  He kept listening. 

            It seemed to be getting closer.  Slowly Simon opened his eyes and saw pink.  Simon blinked a few times, and realized that he was in a bed with a canopy over it.  Now that he knew where he was he closed his eyes again and enjoyed the humming. 

            After another minuet it accrued to Simon that he didn't know who was humming, and he probably should. Also, Simon couldn't think of the last time he's seen a Canopied bed, not to mention lain on one.  There certainly wasn't one on Serenity.  "Wh . . ." he groaned as he opened his eyes and tried to push himself up onto his elbows.  "Where am I?" he asked the hummer.

            "You're with Honey," a low seductive voice said from somewhere in front of him.

            Simon lifted his head and had to close his eyes as dizziness washed over him.  When he opened them again he saw a busty Asian woman sitting on the bed with a shallow bowl in her lap.  She was smiling at him in a knowing way as she rang execs water out of a rag. 

            "Who?" Simon asked.

            "Honey," the woman said, leaning forward and placing the cool wet cloth on his forehead.  "I think you might wanna lie back down there sweetheart."

            "How did I get here?" Simon asked, "Where's River?"

            "You're on Harrper's Point, Sweetie," Honey said, "There ain't no river here."

            Simon didn't want to explain.  He put his hand to his head, taking the cloth away from Honey.  "Thank you," he said, glancing at her, "For, ah, everything.  But, how, how did I get here?"

            "Poor baby, so confused," Honey said, with a pouty expression as she put the bowl of water back on the floor.

            Simon inched very slightly away from the volupsous Honey.

            "Your captain brought you in," Honey said, clearly understanding that Simon was not in the mood to play any of her games.  "You were unconscious."
            "And where is Captain Reynolds?"

            "Do it matter?"

            "Yes, I think it does," Simon insisted.

            Honey sighed; she'd obviously had different ideas about what was going to happen when the young man woke up.  "He's about I'm sure."

            "I need to find him," Simon said trying to push himself out of the bed. Unfortunately, his sense of equilibrium hadn't quite returned.  His hand slipped as his head spun and he nearly tumbled out of the bed, if Honey, with her open arms and her large chest hadn't been there to catch him, he most certainly would have.

            "Easy now, Baby," she cooed.  "Best take it slow."

            Simon tried to push himself up, away from the woman but he was still jittery and weak, and she was not letting him go easily.  This was the most awkward, embarrassing situation Simon had ever found himself in.  "Please, could you . . ." he said, more or less into Honey's breast, as he tried to pull himself away.

            "Well, well, well," the cool voice of Captain Reynolds said from somewhere behind Simon.  With sudden and amazing clarity, Simon pushed himself away from Honey and turned to see Mal walking into the room with a brown package in his hand and very amused expression on his face.  "You're quite the player boy, not twenty minuets ago you were out cold.  And here I come back and find you in Sweet Honey's arms."

            "I slipped," Simon tried to explain.  The excuse sounded very week, even to him.

            "Mind leavin' us alone for a minuet Hon?" Mal asked the voluptuous woman.  "Boy an' me got some talkin' to do."

            The woman sighed, "'Cores sir," she said, pushing herself off the bed.  She walked around the bed, eyeing Mal like a vulture sussing up a carcass, before leaving, slamming the door behind her.

            "They told me the woman has very gentle hands," Mal said more-or-less to Simon as he slouched down in a plush chair across from the bed where the doctor was still sitting, somewhat dazed. "I s'pose it takes more 'n that to make a decent nursemaid." 

            Mal looked at Simon, expecting an answer.  The boy didn't really have one, "I suppose so," he offered weakly.

            The Captain smiled warmly, regardless.  "How you feelin'?"

            "A little shaky," Simon admitted.  "None the better for waking up in the arms of a prostitute."

            "Yeah, well, this station don't have a clinic and there are precious few places here were a fella can get a clean bed ta rest in for an hour or so.  Sides, Madam Kelly runs a full service operation." Mal tossed a parcel wrapped in brown paper onto Simon's bed.  "Took the liberty of haven' your shirt and vest washed.  They were pretty soaked in blood, figured you'd want em nice and white fer dinner."

            "Thank you, Sir," Simon said, untying the packing string the cloths were wrapped in and pulling out the clean garments.  He was truly amazed by the Captains forethought and consideration.

            "And, ah, here," Mal said, getting up from the chair and handing Simon about a dozen paper bills. 

            "What are these for?" Simon asked, casually feeling the money to make sure it wasn't counterfeit.

            "I's your wage, what Li'll Cash paid.  Well, minus about five platinum fer restocking the Infirmary.  I was able to get everything on your list."

            "Captain," Simon said, his voice truly grateful.  "That was . . ."

            "And minus another three I gave to Inara to get River some decent fitin' cloths and a toy or somesuch.  I know she's ain't a kid, but it's creepy the way she lurks about the ship all day like a ghost.  I'd sure like for her to find somethin' to do."

            Simon was so grateful and amazed that he didn't think to apologize for his sister's undeniably odd and eerie behavior.  "Captain . . . Mal, thank you so . . ."

            "Don't have to thank me boy," Mal said quickly.  "You're the one did all the work then almost got killed on account.'

            "Still," Simon insisted.  "Thank you."

            "So," the Captain said crisply, changing the subject.  "You gonna tell me 'bout what happened?"

            Simon pushed himself to the edge of his bed and pulled one arm of the crisp clean shirt on, "What do you want to know?"

            "Li'll Cash said Old Cash was dead."

            "He is," Simon said slowly, pushing his arm through the other shirtsleeve.  "He died of suffocation."

            "They brought you on the ship to treat him for suffocation?" Mal asked.  "Now I don't know much 'bout Medicine, but that don't . . ."

            "No," Simon cut him off.  The boy licked his lips and started to explain as he started buttoning the crisp white shirt.  "Someone, my guess is Little Cash, stabbed Old Cash last night during his sleep.  The dagger, supposedly, was never found, but from the injures sustained I'd guess it was about nine inches long, four inches wide, with a serrated edge on one side." 

Mal blinked, surprised by the doctor's grasp of the details, and leaned forward, eager to hear the rest of the medical story. 

            "Old Cash also had some sort of toxin or poison introduced into his system," Simon continued, having finished the front of his shirt he addressed his cuffs.  "Whether it was from ingestion or perhaps some coating on the blade that stabbed him, I'm not sure.  In either event, the dosage was not enough to kill the old man, just make him ill.  Likewise, the stab wound, while serious, was not fatal."

            "So why bother with a doctor if they wanted Old Cash dead?" Mal wondered aloud. 

            Simon shrugged, pulling the clean blue vest away from its brown paper wrapping.  "They didn't all want him dead.  Izard seemed very loyal to the Older Cash."

            "Maybe they needed the credibility," Mal muttered.  "There'd be no issue of Li'll Cash takin' his pa's place if he'd done everything to save 'im.  But if he hadn't, them loyal to the old man might just be strong enough for a mutiny.  Ya tell Li'll Cash all this about the knife and the poison, that why he tried to kill you?"

            "No," Simon sighed, unbuttoning his collar.  He'd buttoned it out of habit, assuming he'd have a tie, but the tie and coat that went with this suit had been left on the Betty-Lou.  Simon didn't really care, he had no use for suites on Serenity.

"He decided to kill me after I realized he was the one trying, well," he hesitated before correcting himself, "who'd succeeded in killing his father.  After I performed surgery, closing the stab wound, stopping the bleeding, and the poison had failed to cause anything more serious than a fever, Little Cash smothered his father with a pillow."  Simon looked at Mal, "It wasn't a crime he could hide."

            "So to cover his tracks he decided to put you in a room, suck out all the oxygen and let you suffocate too?"

            "I think he was planing that from the start, that or something like it."

            "More like than not," Mal nodded.  "Now, tell me, why didn't you ever signal me with that transmitter I gave you?"

            "I, ah," Simon said, glancing away, and then back again.  "I didn't want you to think I was weak, that I needed help."

            "You did need help, though," the Captain said.

            "Yeah," Simon nodded.  "I did."

"So you were gonna let yourself asphyxiate in a back room of a ship named Betty-Lou rather'n ask for help."

            "No," Simon said quickly.  "As soon as I realized that Little Cash was planing to murder me I tried to call you.  Unfortunately Kurt discovered the transmitter and . . ."

            "He stepped on it," Mal said softly.

            "How did you know?"

            "Li'll bird told me," Mal said quickly.  "So that's what happened?  You fixed up his pa, then he goes and kills 'im and then says you gotta die for not doin' more."

            "Mostly," Simon said.  "He killed Izard, framed him for the murder and then the next moment executed him."  The boy's voice was chilled and distant, Mal had a feeling the young doctor would have nightmares about this for months to come.  "There weren't any witnesses, I just don't understand why he'd bother."

            "'Cause he knew he'd done wrong," Mal said.  "He was trying to clear his conscience."

            "By committing another murder?"

            "I never said he was sane," Mal said. 

            Simon nodded, generally agreeing that Li'll Cash was anything but sane.  After a slight pause, Simon broke the silence with a question, "How did you find me, sir?"

            "What?" Mal asked, he'd been lost in his own thoughts.

            "The transmitter was broken," Simon said.  "You had no reason to believe I was in any danger.  And even if you did you wouldn't have had any idea where I was on the ship.  So, how did you find me?"

            "River found you," Mal answered simply.

            Simon's eyebrows shot up as he leaned forward in disbelief, "River?"

            The Captain nodded, "The girls somethin', that's for sure.  She knew you were in trouble, she knew right where to find you.  She even saved all our lives by distracting Li'll Cash long 'nough for me to shoot him."

            "You shot him?" Simon interrupted, obviously bothered.

            "You'd rather I did what?" Mal asked, annoyed at the young doctor for questioning his right to shoot people. "Turn him over to the Alliance?  He could go on trial, maybe, for the murder of his father."

            "That'd be justice," Simon said very softly, but with conviction.

            "Oh, and who you spose could testify?" Mal asked.  "You?"

            Simon glanced away, clearly seeing the flaws in his preferred plan of action.

            "Or maybe we could get River on the stand," Mal insisted.  "Her testimony might be a little confusing, but I'm sure if we just explained that she was a top secret Alliance experiment the Judge wouldn't make too much a fuss."

            "All right," Simon said tersely.  "I get it."

            "I've chosen my course," Mal said forcefully, "I'd dedicated myself and my ship to protecting you and your sister.  If that means puttin' a bullet in the head of anyone who tries to kill you and steel her, then so be it.  I'd rather see that then see your River get taken off to have God-knows-what done to her brain."

            Simon, suddenly, looked very sad, "She's not my River," he said, staring at his hands.  "I used to think that, with some time, she would be again, be the girl I grew up with.  But, that was a pipe dream.  What they did to her . . . I might be able to help her, guide her, but I can't fix her, I can't heal her.  Some of that damage . . . it's permanent.  I realized that she's, she's never going to go back to being my River.  She's someone else now."

            There was a deep, heavy pause.  While the last to lull in the conversation had simply been spaces without words, this was a chasm full of words that were too painful to say and too hard to hear. 

            After a bit, Mal cleared his throat, "Now, obviously I didn't know her before," he said.  "Back when she was your cute li'll sister in pigtails or whatnot.  And I ain't gonna say I know her now cause, truth be told, I've never understood a person less than I understand that sister a yours.  But the one thing I do understand about her is that you are the only thing she cares about.  The way she looks at you: she knows what you gave up fer her sake.  She knows how much it hurts you to see her like this, such a mess.  She knows how hard you're tryin' to make things right with her.  And, maybe this is the most important, she knows that you're the only person who looks at her and sees what she was before her little trek through hell.  She loves you with all her heart, I'm sure of it.  The one thing I know she is, is yours."

            Simon looked at the Captain with wonder.  He opened his mouth, tried to say something, but he couldn't find any words.

            With a little less passion, Mal continued.  "She's the one that saved you today," he said casually, "She's the one knew you were in trouble, she's the one that found ya, she's the one that got us way from Li'll Cash.  That girls more dedicated to you than . . . well, the only thing I kin think ta compare it to is how dedicated you are to her," He paused, finally adding.  "You're her Simon."

            The young man smiled and laughed, just a little.  "Thank you, sir." He said earnestly.  "You don't know how much that means to me."

            "Yeah well," Mal said, slapping his legs as he pushed himself out of the chair.  "I just didn't want you ta get all sad an' sentimental.  Anyone on the ship walks round with a rain cloud over their head and Kaylee's cheerfulness alarm goes off. She starts planin' 'community acctivities' an' forcin' everyone ta play twister."

            Simon laughed this time out of genuine mirth.

            "Sure, you chuckle away now," Mal said warningly.  "Just wait, you'll see.  'Bout seven months back, Inara got homesick.  Kaylee's solution was makin' stencils and havin' us all spend a day paintin' vines around the kitchen."

            "I'd wondered about that," Simon said, smiling.

            "That girl," Mal said to himself, shaking his head and taking a deep breath before turning to the doctor.  "Speekin' of, we're sposed to be meetin' the ladies outside'a  'Chien Wa's Fine German Eatery' for in 'bout twenty minuets.  You might wanna start quaffing your hair or whatever you do."

            Simon gave Mal a half amused, half annoyed glance and then stood up, swaying ever so slightly and having to catch himself on one of the bed post.

            "'Course," Mal continued, obviously concerned.  "If you wanna stay here, rest up, that'd be fine."

            "No," Simon said, taking a deep breath, letting go of the post and finding his center of balance before walking over to the vanity where he could see how badly he'd actually been hurt.  Honey, for all her eccentricity, had cleaned him up fairly well.  He knew that blood must have caked both his hands and been all over his face, but there were not signs of that. The gash from the riffle but looked much smaller than it felt, only about three inches long, right over his left eyebrow.  There was a huge bruise behind it that was, by this time, a dark uneven shade of blue.  He touched it and winced and decided he didn't want to touch it again. His hair was a mess, but Simon couldn't quite find it in himself to care.  Overall, he looked tired.  Of course, over all, he felt tired. 

He rubbed his eyes and turned to Captain Reynolds.  "How far is it to the restaurant?"

            "Bout ten minuets walk, at a good pace.  Course you don't exactly look up to a good pace."

            "We should probably get going," Simon said.

            "Probably," Mal said, nodding his head to indicate the doctor should lead the way out. 

            When they reached the door, Simon pulled it open and held it for the Captain.  As Mal passed, the younger man asked, "Just out of curiosity, Captain, is there any place you can go and not fall into some bizarre adventure?"

            Mal didn't even have to think, he just sighed and said, "Haven't found one yet."

            Simon nodded, following his Captain out the door. "That's pretty much what I suspected."

The End

(There's going to be an epilog, and an almost complete Chinese translation page so keep your eyes open.  And, as always, please review.)