Chapter 12: In which we discover exactly what Mr. and Mrs. Tam are thinking
River stared at her hands in horror. They were turning red. Everything was turning red. She was still sane enough to know that the color red was in her brain; that it wasn't real. But that only made the world's sudden tint change even more frightening because she also knew that soon she wouldn't be able to remember the world with more than one color and she wouldn't know what voices were real and what voices were fake and there would be screaming and monsters and darkness and cold. A tear streamed down her cheek.
"River, dear," Inara's calming voice said. The girl could feel a steady hand on her shoulder and another stroking her hair. She hoped that she wasn't that far gone yet; she hoped they were real. "Are you all right?"
"It's leaving. It's almost gone," the girl choked.
"What's the matter?" Genie asked, glancing up from her calligraphy practice sheet.
"My body's running out," River said, her blood-red hands were starting to shake. "It's the only explanation. Soon I won't know, and it won't matter and you'll want to lock me in my room again. Because I won't know."
"River," Genie said, leaning across the table, "That don't make sense."
"Doesn't," Inara corrected quickly. "River, we don't understand you."
"And all my words will be lost," the girl said, truly crying now. Her speech came in gasps and her whole body was shaking.
Inara stepped around the chair so that she was next to the trembling girl and pulled her close in what she hoped River would interpret as a protective embrace.
"And no one who listens could hear and all the voices will scream and the darkness will come in the night. Oh, God . . ." River sobbed. "She can't make it stop. It's started and it won't stop until she's gone."
Genie looked up at Inara, horrified by her friend's sudden and disturbing speech. The companion had no comforts to offer. "Genie, dear," the companion said. "You need to go get your grandfather. Tell him that River is very upset."
"She's talkin' crazy Miss Inara," Genie said, pushing away from the table slowly. "This's gotta be a game or something."
"It's not a game," Inara said a little snappishly. "Go get your grandfather. And get her brother, too."
"Papa said Simon's not quite right in the head," Genie said, backing away from the scene but much, much too slowly.
"Yes, well, River obviously is having some troubles of her own," Inara said, her patience growing thin. "Please, Regina, your friend needs you to go get her brother!"
Genie nodded, looking pale and frightened and nearly worried sick. Still, she managed to turn and run out of the Rose garden with the same exuberance with which she tackled every task. Inara was very glad that Genie, and not any other girl of her age and class, had witnessed River's episode. Genie was the kind to forgive and offer compassion to one who suffered from nervous fits, that and she could run three times faster in a dress than anyone Inara had ever known.
* * *
"When you wrote me and told me Simon was having emotional problem's with River's prolonged absence, I didn't realize how bad it'd gotten," the Governor said. "To steal his sister . . . Were there any warning signs?"
"All of them," Gabriel said. "He was overtly paranoid, confrontational, obsessive . . ."
"We thought if we intolerant of his behavior he'd realize how inappropriately he was acting," Regan said, regret lacing her voice. "We didn't take him seriously, treated him like a child and now . . ." She dabbed the corners of her eyes with a small white handkerchief.
"This may seem like a harsh question but, if you could do it over again, how would you have handled the situation differently?" Comworth asked, hoping his question didn't sound too pointed.
"I'd make sure the boy got medical help," Gabriel said without hesitation. "He's so brilliant; it's such a shame. With the right kind of help he could still have made an impact. In research, perhaps, something where he'd have minimal contact with patients. This didn't have to be the end of his career."
"So you wouldn't have taken him seriously?" Comworth asked.
"You didn't hear him," Gabriel said, before Regan could answer. "The things he said, the things he did . . . it was impossible to even humor him. It was all just so ludicrous."
"The reason I ask . . ." Reginald started, but he was interrupted by his office door being thrown dramatically open and a gasping Genie running up and grabbing his arm.
"Papa, Papa," she said, not even noticing the Tams. "Ya gotta come quick. River's all crazy and Miss Inara thinks she needs Simon but you told me . . ."
"My God," Regan gasped, springing to her feet, "Genie, did you say River? Do you have River here?"
The girl turned, startled, "Mrs. Tam," She said, blinking and confused. "Where'd you . . .?"
"Please tell me it's really River," Regan said, taking a pleading step closer to the young girl. "My own River." Her eyes were moist but she didn't bother raising her hankie to wipe the tears away.
Genie nodded silently, ogling the Tams as if they were ghosts. "She's kinda goin' nuts though," the girl said slowly.
"River," Regan gasped, tears flowing freely out of her eyes now.
"Is that why you asked us here?" Gabriel said, standing to put two supportive, bracing hands, on his now-trembling wife. "Because they contacted you?"
"Yes," Comworth said. He was, at this point, the only one still sitting. "I didn't want to go through official channels. I didn't want your children to be hurt."
"Where is she?" Regan said. "I have to see her."
"Genie, would you . . ." Comworth said.
"'Course, Papa," the girl said, stepping forward and taking Regan's hand. "I'll take you right to her," the girl said as she led the older, very troubled woman out. "But you gotta know, she ain't a pretty sight just now . . ."
"You said 'children'," Gabriel said, easing himself back into a chair so he could look his old friend in the eyes, as soon as his wife was out of the room. "You have them both?"
"Simon is here, too, yes," Comworth said. "But he's not . . . he's like a different boy."
"I know," Gabriel said sadly. "I had such high hopes for him . . ."
* * *
Simon eased the maintenance closet door open and looked, very cautiously, up and down the hallway. It looked empty, and entirely unfamiliar. "Qiong cangn fu zi wo," he muttered, carefully stepping out of the small room and closing the door behind him. Now that he'd escaped, he'd have to find a way to prowl the grounds unnoticed. That wasn't going to be easy. Especially considering that the maintenance man with the sprained back would probably raise the alarm sooner rather than later.
He'd have to be very careful, he thought, as he crept around down the hallway, every one of his senses keen, trying to figure out where the guards were, where the cameras were, where the exits were. He edged his way, sticking to the shadows, treasuring the mild form of darkness that fills building in the late afternoon when the light of the day has faded but no one's yet thought to turn on the lights.
Simon reached the end of a hallway and found that he must chose between turning right or left. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and listened very carefully. There were definitely steps coming down the hallway, but the echoes on the polished marble made it difficult to tell from which direction the noises were coming. Simon ducked into a deep, shadow-filled doorway that lead he knew not where. He'd wait for the footsteps to echo away and then he'd continue in his search for River. Maybe by the time he found her, it'd be late at night and they'd be able to sneak out unnoticed. Then all he'd have to do is scrounge up enough credits to send a wave to Mal in Sweet Well and they'd be as good as safe.
And he'd never see his godfather again.
And he'd have purposely and finally cut all ties with his former life.
Simon buried his face in his hands and pressed down on his eyes so hard the darkness turned into light. He couldn't think like that. He couldn't have regrets. Regrets were for people who had choices. He didn't have choices. He had River and the only road he could take was the one that lead to her, to her being safe, to her getting better.
He became aware that voices were accompanying the footsteps. They were hushed voices, it was a very private conversation, but as soon as Simon could distinguish the first few intonations of each voice, he knew exactly who was approaching and he found his hands shaking and his heart beat quickening and his resolve wavering.
"I understand that perfectly," his godfather's voice said firmly but quietly. "And he has changed, but he doesn't sound mad, or irrational. I spoke to him in detail just last night and his thoughts seemed clear, as did his determination to protect River."
"Protect River from what?" Gabriel Tam asked. His voice was a little louder that the Governor's, its slightly incredulous tone and absolute unshakabilitly were so familiar that Simon couldn't mistake the voice, no matter how much he wanted to. It was his father's; his father was here. If he left, he'd have to not only leave his godfather, but he'd have to leave his father, and undoubtedly his mother as well, again. He'd have to steal River, their own daughter, from them -- again. He'd have to break their hearts -- again. And he'd have to break River's heart -- again. And he'd be breaking his own heart -- again.
In his dark corner, Simon felt like someone had just heaved a load of sandbags or a huge chunk of lead onto his back. He could feel his chest constrict; he couldn't breathe. The doctor sunk to his knees, leaned his back against the wall, and covered his mouth as he gasped for breath. He willed himself to be totally silent, not to move, not breath, if he could have, he would have willed his heart not to beat.
"Surely he doesn't still cling to the delusion that her school was hurting her?" Gabriel continued.
"Is it a delusion?" Comworth wondered. "He's so persistent and he was always such a cautious boy, he never, never jumped to conclusions. He had such a scientific mind."
Gabriel muttered something Simon couldn't quite hear.
"That's unfair," Simon's godfather snapped. "Did you ever even consider, perhaps, the possibility that he could be right?"
"Be serious, Reginald," Gabriel scoffed. "She attended a government run academy. Lord Terrence Harritt submitted her name for consideration. The Secretary of Education himself took us on a tour of the facilities and explained the program. Then, months later, Simon takes some perfectly normal sounding letters and constructs the most ingenious code out of nothing, forcing them to say what he wanted to hear."
"I can't imagine Simon wanted to hear that his sister was being tortured," Comworth said, levelheadedly.
"He wanted to hear that she needed him," Gabriel amended, audible disgust for his son's actions creeping into his voice. "So he created a scenario where only he was clever enough and noble enough and loved her enough to notice it."
"It just seems, though," Comworth pressed, "that he was so happy in the hospital. His letters, they were so excited. I can't imagine that he would just leave that."
"He's not well," Gabriel said. They'd paused, right at the fork in the hallway. Simon, deep in his protective shadows, could see them standing and talking. His father looked older, somehow, but he couldn't pinpoint the cause. He was standing straight and proud, his suit immaculate, his shoulders squared, his shoes polished: the perfect businessman. But there was something else, a sort of hardness in his stance that Simon had first noticed when his father had bailed him out of jail. Something about the way the corners of his mouth and eyes seemed frozen, or maybe how very straight his shoulders were and how his hands never seemed to relax, the muscles always looked tense.
"There is another factor in this," Comworth said softly. "I'm convinced that saying Simon's mad is too simple an answer."
"You were always too generous with him," Gabriel said. "We all were. If we had –"
Simon never got to hear his father's regrets because the discussion was interrupted by another voice that forced the boy to close his eyes. He could feel hot tears store up in his eyes but he wasn't going to cry, he wasn't going to make a sound, he had to stay secret.
"Gabriel, Reginald," his mother's voice called down the hall.
"Regan," his father said, surprise and a little perturbed at having his conversation interrupted. "I thought you were going to River."
"Reginald," Simon heard his mother say. Her voice was more troubled than he'd ever heard it, and that frightened him. "River is manic. What's happened to her?"
"I don't know," Comworth said. "Simon insists . . ."
"Simon is not well," Gabriel snapped.
"And neither is River," Regan insisted. "She's frantic, calling for him. Reginald, please, I'm her mother and . . ." The woman's voice trailed, she was too heartbroken to finish her sentence. Simon understood exactly how she felt.
"Come on, then," Comwoth said, taking Regan's forearm gently and leading her in the direction the two men had been originally heading. "We'll fetch Simon and see what sense can be made of this mess."
"Quickly," Regan said, glancing behind her, presumably towards River, "It's not good for her voice, screaming like that . . ."
Simon, hunched in the shadows, listened very intently as the steps faded into the distance. Once he was sure they had gone reasonably far down the hall and wouldn't hear or see him, he slinked out of his hiding spot. If he could just reach River, grab her and then run off before his parents realized what he'd done there was hope.
"I can do this," he whispered under his breath as he gazed down the hallway, first in the direction his parents had gone, then in the direction he hoped would lead towards River.
"This . . .," he muttered, turning decidedly towards his sister, "This is doable." But as he jogged down the hallway, he couldn't help but throw cautious and sometimes longing glances behind him. "Defiantly," he told himself, a little louder. "I can . . . I can do this."
* * *
"River," Inara pleaded, reaching out towards the girl who continually batted her hands away. "Please, just -- just calm down."
"No!" River screamed. "Listen to my words; they come out like blood from a wound and they stain the pretty silk dress. It's ruined and we pretend it's just grape juice and change clothes and go back to the party!"
Inara had nothing to say to that; she changed subjects. "Simon will be here soon, River, sweetie, just . . ."
"The doctor can't fix it. The surgeon can't sew it. He puts bandages on it but the bandages got dirty and infected and now there's more blood!"
"Riv—" Inara started but then she heard rapid, almost panicked footsteps behind her. She turned around and saw Simon speeding towards the gate of the guardian. For a second, she left the girl to her hysteria and rushed to met Simon.
"Zan yang fo tuo you're here," Inara said, not registering the look of utter shock on the young man's face. "River is totally out of control. I haven't seen her this bad since we had the reaver on board."
"I—Inara?" The doctor finally managed to stutter as the companion took his arm and started pulling him bodily towards his sister. "What are you . . .?"
River screeched, high-pitched, horrified, "The ghosts are coming back! They'll drag us down, down to the graves, the blood stains on the pretty dress will be covered with mud and lavender when they bury us."
"River," Simon called, setting his shock at seeing Inara aside as he ran to his sister. "River, calm down," he knelt in front of her, firmly grasping her flailing arms; his clear blue eyes steady as a lighthouse trying to guide his sister out of the tempest in her mind. "River, I'm here; you're safe."
"Simon," the girl gasped, calming a little as she sank into her brother's embrace. "It went away. And the world is red and I'm seeing the ghosts."
"Shh, shh, mei mei," Simon soothed. "It's all right. Everything is going to be just fine."
"It ran out," River sobbed. "And I'm slipping."
"The medicine," Simon realized. "You're talking about the medicine."
"It's all bloody," River whimpered. "It hurts."
"I know," Simon said, lifting himself up and his sister by proxy. "It's gonna be all right; we'll get back to Serenity and . . ." At the mention of the ship, Simon suddenly remembered that they weren't alone in the rose garden. Still holding his sister close to him, he turned to Inara, who looked almost pale with worry.
"What are you doing here? Where's Mal?"
"I was hired by Governor Comworth to tutor his granddaughter. I heard you were kidnapped."
"Yeah," Simon said, glancing around for guards. "We're escaping now. I don't suppose you'd know the quickest way out?"
"As a matter of fact, I don't," Inara said. "But, Simon, where would you go?"
"We'll . . ." Simon said, "We could . . ."
"Mal knows where you are," Inara said. "He's going to come. And I don't think you are immediate danger. It might be best to wait."
"What if the ghosts are real?" River said, her voice sluggish and distant. "Can you be a ghost and not die?"
"No," Simon said shaking his head fervently. "We can't stay, that will only . . ."
"There was a woman here, Simon," Inara said, putting a kind hand on the obviously frightened young man. "She said she was your mother."
"She is," Simon clipped, pulling his calm, but clearly inconscient, sister out of the rose garden roughly.
"Simon," Inara demanded. "I need to know what's going on!"
"Later, just. . . just, not now. Now we have to get out, we need to . . ."
"Simon," River said, her voice was less murky, more insistent. "I think the ghosts are real."
"Tell Mal we'll be in the city, hiding," Simon said quickly as they reached the edge of the garden.
"This is madness," Inara said, grabbing the boy's arm, trying to pull him back into the garden. "You won't be safe out there, you know that. You're safe enough here until . . ."
"If we stay, now, I . . . I don't think we could leave," Simon said, turning to look at the companion, and the intensity in his eyes made her gasp. She had known that his briskness was a result of fear, but she had assumed he was afraid of the governor, of the guards, of being caught. But Simon's eyes told a different story. He was afraid of himself, afraid that his courage would falter, and his dedication break and all his struggling and suffering would end up being for nothing. Inara realized that he wanted more than anything else to stay, and that was why he couldn't waist a moment in leaving. "And," the boy continued shakily, "I'm sure Mal could find us we just . . . we can't stay."
Inara nodded; she was about to tell the young man that she understood. A series of confusing lies were already forming in her head which, when told, would hopefully give the brother and sister enough of a head start to evade capture. But, before any of those lies took a true form, she was distracted by River, who suddenly and violently pulled away from Simon, shoving her brother into the garden gate and running back into the green sanctuary.
To be continued . . .