At the sound of Dr. Chow's voice, he halts, swaying. He knows he's late. He knows how he looks, unkempt and stained and bloody. There wasn't time to go all the way cross city to his dorm; he hoped to shower before anyone saw him. No such luck. He's not even sure how much he cares.
The copper-blood in his mouth tastes like failure. Another failure. Another dead end.
"Sir." His only hope is to bluff this through. As long as River remains out of reach, he needs this job. He needs the money. He fixes his eyes on a point ten inches to the left of Dr. Chow's ear and makes his face a mask. He's had lots of practice with this part, made easier by the fact it hurts to move his face.
"You're late," Dr Chow's clipped tones make this a sin on par with matricide, genocide, whatever 'cide you choose to insert. Except what's dying here is obviously his career. As the older doctor came closer, his nose wrinkles. "And you smell. Come with me."
A short walk to Dr. Chow's cubicle, but he's aware of every glance, every whispered comment. It should seem more dire. He's worked so hard for this, to get here. A few months ago, it was his whole life. But he supposes that's not really true. Medicine is all he remembers wanting, but memory is fickle. Now he thinks his life has belonged to River from the beginning, from that first toothless grin and joyous pump of fat baby limbs to their resolutely not-tearful goodbye on the Metaflash docks.
I always thought it was River who was lost without her big brother... their father said, now I'm starting to wonder if it isn't the other way around.
Funny that Gabriel Tam had to pick that moment to be insightful, when ordinarily he avoided introspection like plague.
Think about the consequences, he'd said, as well.
I am, Dad, Simon thinks. I'm thinking of the consequences of a life without River. And that I just can't contemplate. Not for a minute. Not even as a joke.
"I have to admit I'm at a loss with you, Tam." Chow says as Simon half-falls into the hard plas chair on the other side of Chow's desk. The impact jars every bruise and abrasion; he shuts his teeth on a whimper. "You're not a stupid boy. You come from an excellent family. And up until recently, you gave every indication of becoming a sterling doctor. Now this."
"Sir?"
Chow sighs. "Look at you, Tam. I mean really; look at you. You show up late for rounds. You look like you've taken up a second job as a professional gladiator, and half the time lately you don't seem to be able to tell the difference between a pituitary gland and a mammary gland. Ren-tse de fo zui, boy, what is wrong with you?"
"Nothing," he answers, because what else can he say? Gee, Dr. Chow, my brilliant mei mei has been kidnapped by the government for purposes unknown and she's been sending me messages in code to try and get me--yes, ME--to come and rescue her because they're hurting her, you see; yes, the government, and... He stops there, wondering if he'd be able to take such a declaration seriously if he'd been on the other end of it. Probably not. But Chow didn't really know him or River. Hell, if it came to that, neither did their parents. But he knew. River was a lot of things, but she wasn't a liar. Not about something like this. "I've being going through some personal things..."
"Is it a girl?" Dr. Chow asks and spreads his hands wide in a gesture of helplessness. "I might understand if it was a girl. I don't understand, right now, Tam, and I really want to. I'm trying to help you, in case you hadn't noticed."
"Yes," he says immediately; ithat/i seems safe enough. Except that's not how Chow means it. "No," he says next, but that doesn't seem like enough, so he amends: "It's complicated."
"Isn't it always?" Chow says, and his voice fills with a wealth of world-weariness. "But the point is that you're not leaving me much room to manuever here, Simon. You could be a brilliant doctor, You are a brilliant doctor. You've worked so hard to just throw it out like so much luh suh now. Have you considered that? This is your career. Every action you take now is going to have repercussions, and you owe it to yourself to make sure they're ones you can live with. For God's sakes, think of the consequences."
"You're right, sir," Simon agrees. It's not just face time; he recognizes every word the older man has said as the truth. But as in his argument with his father, there are consequences and consequences. Those you can live with, and those you can't. "And I'm sorry. I know I've put you in an awkward position."
This too is true. He is sorry. Chow has been his mentor, and friend. It seems poor repayment to slough aside his chosen vocation--as Chow said--as so much luh suh. But it's the only coin he has to offer. He's made his decisions, and though they leave him in a welter of regrets, not a single one of them compares to the horrible vista of a world without River in it.
"That you have." Chow scrubs a heavy hand over his face, a characteristic gesture. "But not an irreparable one." He fixes Simon with a tired and regretful gaze. "I'm placing you on probation, Simon. You have three months to get yourself together and decide if this is something you really want to do. I hope you'll think carefully on what I've said."
"Yes," Simon agrees, glad its no worse than this. Glad he'll be able to keep earning--hopefully enough to buy River free, since he's always proven fairly incompetent at derring-do. He's under no illusions; he's not brave. River's always been the brave one. But what he lacks in balls-out courage he's always been able to compensate for in sheer determination. "I'm grateful, sir. Really I am."
"But you're not convinced," Chow says. He sounds sad. "So be it. I've said my piece, made my appeal to your better nature. But Simon, I truly hope you don't come to regret this later."
"I do too, sir."