Chapter 13: In which everyone talks but no one listens to Simon

                Simon was stunned and a little disoriented--River had shoved him with more force than either he or Inara would have given her credit for.  The whole gate rattled at the force of the blow and Simon's knees gave way as his breath was knocked out of him.  The companion's first thought was to make sure the young doctor wasn't too badly hurt. She rushed over to him, putting a hand on his shoulder as she started to kneel down.  "Simon."

                "I'm fine," The boy said, although his voice sounded slurred.  "Jus' get . . . find River."

                "Simon you should . . ."

                "I'm fine," he insisted as he pulled himself back up to a standing position using the fence as a brace.  He turned to look at her, presumably to convince her that he was fine, or perhaps snap at her for not following his instructions, but before he could say anything, he winced in pain.  Inara gasped, as he turned towards her she saw that there was a huge gash on his head, just over his right eye, spewing blood.

                "No," Inara said, taking his arms more firmly. "You need a doctor."

                "Head wounds look worse than they are," he said, pulling his left arm away from her, pressing it against the cut.  "We have to find River."

                "You have to sit down," Inara insisted, holding on to him tenaciously as the boy tried to untangle himself from the companion.  His eyes were scanning the garden, trying to find his sister among the greens, browns and reds of the rose bushes.

"You can't wander around the villa trailing blood with River screaming at the top of her lungs," Inara insisted, holding on to the doctor, forcing him to listen to reason.  "That's not going to help matters."

                "We can't stay here!" Simon insisted.

                "You can," Inara insisted, and then, in a more hushed voice; "Mal knows where you are, he's going to come."

                Simon shook his head, woefully, "You don't understand. I can't see them.  Not after what I did."

                "Your mother?" Inara asked, bewildered. "Simon, you saved your sister she's going to . . ."

                "No one's going to believe me."

                "You can't know that," Inara said. She was pleading him in a very womanly way, her body bending, always moving just a little.  She felt a little guilty, playing her companion tricks on him, but this was his life, and River's, and he was not thinking clearly.  She had to appeal to his emotions because that seemed to be what he was running on. 

                "I do know that," he said, starting to nod his head.  Then he winced in pain and closed his eyes. 

                "Sit down," Inara ordered.  "You're not thinking.  Mal is —"

                She was interrupted by a high-pitched, tear-soaked, voice calling "Simon!"

                The two Serenity crew members froze for a second.  Simon, who still hadn't opened his eyes, muttered, "Xian, fou."

                Inara turned her head to see Simon and River's mother running towards them.  The governor, another man who Inara assumed to be Simon and River's father, and a host of guards, followed her. 

                "Oh, Simon," Mrs. Tam said, running up to her son who stood there, eyes closed as if clinging to the childish belief that if he didn't see it, it wasn't really happening.

                She wrapped her arms around him, and started bawling into his chest, while everyone watched.  Inara felt like a voyeur.  Simon wouldn't have wanted anyone from Serenity to see him like that, like a lost child.  She looked away.

                "Son," Mr. Tam said, his voice was hard and, despite herself, Inara turned back to the family drama.  She felt she needed to know what would happened to Simon next, she told herself it was for Mal, for his plan, and ultimately for the Tam children too. It was, after all, their rescue. 

                Simon opened his eyes and turned towards his father. Somehow, even though his once-white shirt was now a dirty brown-gray and blood washed over half his face, he looked strong, proud, and nobly defiant.  "Hi," was all he said.

                "Hi!" Mr. Tam yelled.  The older man's face grew red, his eyes, which were the same pretty blue-gray as his son's, bulged.  "You run off!  Leave your job, leave us!  You abduct your sister! We don't see you for months and all you say, all you can think to say, is 'Hi'?!"

                "Hi, Dad?" the boy asked.  Inara tried not to laugh.  Simon could be very entertaining when he was terrified.

                "Don't yell at him!" Mrs. Tam said, stepping away from her son, positioning herself between him and her husband, a protective, loving, unmovable wall.  "We all know what happened, yelling won't solve a thing."

                "I have a right to yell!" Mr. Tam said, looking at his son over his wife's head.  "We've been through hell because of his selfish actions!"

                "Selfish?" Simon said appealing to his father.  "I certainly didn't gain anything personally by leaving.  Everything I did, I did for River.  All you have to do is talk to her and you'll see that  . . ."

                "You're diluted," Mr. Tam said dismissively.  "We can't trust a word you say."

                "How very convenient for you," Simon spat back.  "I, however, can't dismiss reality so casually."

                "The reality is that you need medical help," Mr. Tam insisted.  "You're not right."

                Inara looked away again.  She didn't want to be here.  She didn't want to see Simon struggle like this.  Perhaps most importantly, she didn't want anyone to see how angry she was getting on Simon's behalf. 

                Governor Comworth must have felt the same way, because he walked up to her, and touched her arm gently, drawing her away from the bickering family. "I think we should leave them to themselves for the moment, don't you?"

                "Indeed," Inara said softly.  "I hope that they can come to an understanding."

                "Regan has a gift for finding understandings," Comworth said.  "Is River in there somewhere?"

                "She ran off and hid.  Simon wanted to take her away."

                "Yes," the governor sighed as he led Inara out the gateway to the garden into the thick marble halls of his villa.  "Simon.  We found the maintenance man in his room lying on the bed with a sprained back and a large hole in the bathroom ceiling."

                "That sounds like an interesting story," Inara said gravely.

                "Simon is very good at seizing his opportunities," Comworth said, in the same grave tone.  "Add to this his life is charmed with the most uncanny good fortune."

                Inara had to literally bite her tongue to keep from laughing in the governor's face. Everything Inara knew about the boy lead her to believe that too much good fortune was not Simon's cross to bear. In the short time of their acquaintance the young man had not only been hunted by the Alliance, but also beaten by a total stranger, nearly burned at the stake, and just about suffocated to death on his birthday.

It's true that, sometimes, misfortune would find a formerly lucky person and stick with them.  Still, Inara found it hard to believe that Simon fit under that category.  The boy never complained, never talked about how things could have been, he never even seemed to expect anything to go his way; all proofs that his life in the Core had not been charmed.

                "You know," she said, trying very hard to sound like she had no greater experience than one rushed conversation in a garden.  "I understand that you've known him all his life, and, of course, so have his parents.  But I can't help but feel, and please don't take offense, that you are somewhat blind to who he really is."

                "Really?" the governor asked, more amused than anything else.

                "I know it will be easy to discount my observations," Inara said, trying to make herself sound as innocent and legitimate as possible.  "But you must remember that Companions are trained in reading men, in understanding them in an instant."

                "Is the male so easily dissected?" the governor asked, his tone was still amused.

                "Some more than others," Inara said, chuckling lightly.  Because, after all, she didn't know Simon, she didn't care for him, or for his sister, and she certainly wasn't trying to rally an accomplice in the conspiracy to steal the siblings back to Serenity.  "And I won't say that Simon is an open book, far from.  But he's not mad."

                "You know this?"

                "It's obvious," Inara said flippantly.  "The only thing more obvious than the fact that he's completely sane is the fact he adores his sister."

                "No one questions that," Comworth said, his voice was less amused, almost suspicious.

                Inara smiled, "And now my keen senses are telling me to drop the subject.  I'm sorry, I didn't mean to intrude on such a private matter.  It's just I hate to see someone suffer for crimes others commit."

                "What do you mean?"

                "Well, someone hurt River," Inara said, as if this were the most obvious thing in the 'verse.  Which, in a way, it was.  "Clearly it was not Simon because he loves his sister and is not insane.  But, because you, and their parents, don't see this fact, he's going to be punished, or something, I suppose."

                "The world is very clear to you," Comworth said.  There was admiration in his tone, not suspicion.  Inara smiled very naturally and breathed a little easier. 

                "Some parts more than others," Inara laughed.  "Other's lives are always easier to understand than one's own."

                "If that is the benefit of Companion training, I'm starting to think it should be given to everyone."

                They both laughed.  This was good, Inara thought.  She'd made the governor critically rethink the assumption that Simon was mad and she'd done it without revealing any of her personal knowledge of the young doctor.  The governor didn't even suspect that she had any personal knowledge to reveal.

                "I do have one question though," Comworth said casually.

                "Well, then, please ask."

                "Who is Mal?"

                For a second, Inara lost all her composure.  He knew -- he'd overheard something or he'd somehow figured it out.  She didn't know what Simon had told him. She didn't know what River had let slip.  She didn't know how much the guards had discovered when the kidnapped the siblings.  But, as she pretended to cough to hide her shock, she reminded herself that she'd talked to Wash, and he hadn't said anything about guards or police.  The best path would be total denial, at least, until she knew more.  "I'm sorry," she said, pressing her hand against her chest. 

                "Do you need a glass of water?"

                "No, no thank you," Inara laughed.  "I'll be just fine. What was that question again?"

                "Who is Mal?"

                "Who is . . ." Inara said uncertainly, shaking her head.  "Mal, was it?  Am I supposed to know the answer?"

                "I imagine you do," Comworth said, regarding the companion slyly.  "When we walked in on your conversation with my poor godson, you were telling him that Mal is . . . going to do something, I assume."

                "My conversation with Simon," Inara said, thinking as quickly as she could.  "Oh," she finally said with a careless laugh.  "You misheard.  I said ill.  Ill is going to befall you if you leave.  I was trying to talk him out of escaping."

                "I see," Comworth said after a moment.
                "I can understand how that would sound confusing."

                "Yes, well," the governor said.  He looked a little embarrassed; Inara felt a little sorry for him.  "Given the circumstances, perhaps you should take the rest of the afternoon off."

                "That's very generous of you, sir.  But doesn't Genie need . . ."

                "Genie will be too worried about her friend to concentrate.  Dinner is at 20:00, I'll expect to see you there.  Until that time, there are some matters of state . . ."

                "Of course sir," Inara said, smiling graciously, innocently, at the governor.

                He bowed, very genteelly at her, and then turned and hurried off towards his office.  Inara stood for a moment and watched him go.  Then, after taking a very deep breath, muttered "Nage, neige tai kao long, " before hurrying to her shuttle so she could tell Mal everything that had just happened. 

*   *   *

                "Genie," Governor Comworth called into his granddaughter's suite.  There wasn't an immediate answer.  "Genie, are you in here?"

                "No!" The girl called.  "I'm not in here, go look somewhere else."

                Comworth laughed and stepped full into the room.  This was their game, their code.  She was miserable and wanted to be comforted, she just didn't want to ask. 

                The Governor walked up to her closet and knocked, "Can I come in?"  He didn't wait for her to answer before he opened the door and found her scrunched in the back corner, leaning on the soft cloth of all the pretty dresses she owned but never wore.  When she was much younger, and her dresses where much shorter, she'd created a world for her toys in this closet.  It was her favorite pay room, totally cut off from the outside world.  It was still her sanctuary.  He stepped in, as he had a thousand times before, he was the only one who could.

                "All right, sweetie, tell me."

                "River's rutting nuts," the girl said, not bothering to look up at her grandfather.  She was sitting cross-legged on the floor, lacing and unlacing a pair of dress boots she'd worn only once and were, surly by now, too small.

                "She's had a very difficult time but . . ."

                "Oh, papa," Genie said, shaking her head wisely.  "She's gone."

                "Gone?"

                "Remember how she was always clever, always makin' jokes."

                "I remember you two laughing a lot."

                "She's not like that.  Not no more . . . not anymore."

                "People change, people go through hardships and they change," he reached out and pulled his granddaughter's pretty face up towards his.  "People go through puberty and they change."

                "Bu zhe ban," Genie said, shaking her head.

                "You and River were never very close, you have to admit," the governor said, hoping a different angel might brighten Genie's perspective.

                "We weren't pen-pals or anything, but we were close when we were together," Genie insisted.  "But that's got nothing to do with it."

                "I'm not sure what it is," Comworth confessed.

                "You spent all your time with Simon and the Tam's, which was shiny 'cause River and me, and, and I?"

                "I," Comworth said, nodding.

                "Well, anyways, we would just play around, explore, whatever.  River was carefree. She was kooky, but not psychotic."

                "River is not psychotic."

                "She's not the same," Genie insisted, shaking her head.  Her eyes were cool, set, convicted.

                "Are you afraid of her?" Comworth asked with a note of bewilderment in his voice.  "Is that why you're hiding?"

                "No," Genie said with a sigh, shaking her head. "Nope."

                "Well, then, why?"

                There was a moment's pause; finally the girl settled on, "I'm sad."

                "Sad?"

                "Sad for her, I mean, she lost something.  She's not happy."

                "Genie," Comworth said gently. "You know, she was kidnapped, that kind of trauma .  . ."

                "She was kidnapped from a school by her older brother who she idolizes!" Genie said.  "That's most kid's fantasy."

                "Fantasy's aren't all they are supposed to be."

                "I'm really scared for her," Genie admitted, yanking on the pink boot laces.  "She's gonna . . . well, she ain't gonna . . . I don't know."

                "Come on, Genie," her grandfather coaxed. "I want to know what you think."

                "She's really hurt," Genie said.  "In her head.  I'm sad 'cause she's hurrin' so much, and I'm scared 'cause I don't think she'll ever get better."

                "River's parents are here, they'll be sure to see that she gets the best care available."

                "She'll never be like she was."

                "I suppose . . ."

                "Somebody, somebody not Simon, messed her up, but good."

                "You can't possibly know that."

                "Ya only gotta talk to her ta see she's messed up."

                "I mean about Simon."

                "Right, 'cause Simon would totally do that."

                "You just admitted you didn't really know the boy."

                "Oh come on!" Genie said, exasperated, picking up one boot and throwing it violently over her grandfather's shoulder and hitting the closet door with a loud thump.

                "This is a complicated situation."

                "River's torn up," Genie said as thick tears of frustration and compassion rolled down her cheek. "It's like someone took a rake to her brain and mushed it all to di yu."

                "She's just traumatized."

                "Losin' both yer parents," Genie said, looking at her grandfather seriously.  "That's trauma.  I know all 'bout trauma.  River's been more'n traumatized.  She's been ta hell and back."

To Be Continued . . .