Simon tipped a spoonful of milk into his tea and watched it stir and cloud, spiraling out into entropic fractal patterns as it faded. It was late afternoon, and he was taking tea alone in the dining hall. He wanted to go to Inara; he craved her warmth, her gentle and measured voice, and her closed and meaningful smiles. Nevertheless, he would not go to her until she called for him. Whatever had passed between them, it had been bone-deep, and as disturbing as it was blissful. He suspected that they both needed time to recover and sort out their thoughts.
"Don't act the fool, son," a voice intoned, hollow and languid. "You know what you're doing ain't proper."
"I'm sorry?" Simon looked up from his tea and saw his sister, standing slim and ghostly pale in the doorway. Light filtered in from the corridor behind her, catching in her tangled hair and giving her an aura of sickly yellow light.
"Sha gua," River said, spitting her words like hot bullets. "Pi tiao ke. Ni juede wo hen ben ma?"
"River," said Simon, swallowing his shock as he rushed to her side. He put his hands on her shoulders, instinctively, to calm her. "Please, come in. I'm just having tea. Are you… feeling all right?"
"She feels everything," River said, bitterly. "She can't not. You're not doing it right, Simon."
Simon guided his sister to a chair and set her down gently, stroking her hair. He placed the mug of tea between her trembling hands and curved her long fingers around the porcelain.
"Drink," he said. "It'll settle you down. Please, River – did something happen? I thought you were feeling better – I thought…"
Abruptly, River hurled the mug across the room. Simon ducked, as he felt warm tea spatter his face like blood. He heard a high, silver tinkle and crack as the teacup shattered against a far wall, somewhere above and behind his head.
"No placebos," she said, tearfully. "No rutting sugar pills. We had a happy ending. Lifted up into the sky, everything all right, everything forever bruised but unbleeding. We had a family, new one, better one. You're not doing it right, Simon. Ni shi pian ze! We're going to hurt them. Yes."
Simon sighed and pressed his forefinger to his temple in a gesture of bewilderment and guilt. His stomach felt heavy and cold, as if he had swallowed an anvil.
"River, I'm sorry," he said. "I'm sorry that things didn't work out the way you wanted them to. But you have to know that I am doing everything in my power to make this an honorable match, and so is Inara. We haven't told anyone yet because… well, it's not really mine to tell. Inara will inform the Captain when she sees fit. But, in the meantime, please know that I will never do anything to hurt you, or anyone else on this ship. You have my promise."
River studied him as if he were a worm in a dissection sim. Her eyes were narrowed, cold and serpentine, glittering with tears and fury.
"Don't say it to me," she said, pushing away from the table with lithe, animal grace. "Say it to Daddy."
Simon knelt at her feet, staring at his baby sister with growing fear and comprehension.
"What do you mean, mei mei?"
"I'm telling on you," said River.
Before Simon could rise or reply, River turned and ran, leaping light and fleet as an antelope through the far door and into the corridor. Simon ran for her, reached for her, called out her name. He was too slow. She was gone.