One of the things Wash liked the best about the cargo bay was that he could hear someone approaching long before they could see him. As a result, he was able to pull his shirt on and position himself in an intimidating fashion in front of the weight set by the time Simon reached the ground level. Wash buttoned his shirt slowly while his eyes rose to meet Simon's. When they linked, he held the gaze.
After a moment, Simon's eyes flickered behind him, and Wash knew that Jayne must have stepped out from the stack of crates he'd been behind. He crossed over to the weight set and threw down the towel that was hung over his shoulder. Beyond that, he ignored them.
"I don't have anything to say to you," Wash coldly stated.
Simon hesitated for a moment, his eyes still on Jayne before he squared his shoulders and returned his attention to Wash. "Good. Then you won't interrupt what I've come to say."
Wash mopped his sweaty brow with the back of his hand and crossed his arms. "What?"
Simon's eyes flickered to Jayne again, cautiously. "Jayne," he started, slowly.
Jayne bent to retrieve his water bottle and shrugged. "Was just leavin', Doc," he called easily. He threw a wary glance to Wash and then pushed past them, soon up the stairs and out of sight.
Simon waited until the last ringing footstep had stopped before he returned his eyes to Wash. He was still resolutely standing in front of him. "I'm going to explain my situation regarding Kaylee with you. You don't have to reciprocate, but I want you to trust me and to know that I trust you with this information."
Wash turned away from him and went to sit on the edge of the bench press. He rubbed his thigh slightly and focused his eyes on Simon's knees. He felt Simon studying him and shifted uncomfortably. "You should tell Kaylee, not me."
Simon lowered his voice. "Kaylee already knows. That's . . . that's what this is all about." He pressed his palms out on his thighs nervously and started talking, keeping his voice quiet. "We got together, you know, after Miranda. Looking death in face like that makes you reevaluate the choices you've made in your life up to that point."
This only made Wash roll his eyes. "Get to the point," he growled impatiently.
Simon's eyes narrowed. He did enjoy hearing himself speak telling long-winded tales about his life. He shifted his weight and proceeded, truncating his purple prose. "Well, it didn't work out. I mean, it did, at first. It was very nice for a few months." He turned away from Wash and studied the catwalk absently, clearly finding it easier to look at something cold and inanimate than Wash's disinterested face. "Then, River started getting jealous." He waved a hand a little. "At first it wasn't bad, really. The three of us spent time together and had a lot of fun. She was much better after Miranda, and she seemed to genuinely like Kaylee." He smiled, thoughtfully. "We had a great time—"
"So you chose River over Kaylee?" Wash asked, cutting his prattling off.
Simon's head turned back over to look at him. He folded his hands in front of him and shrugged, staring at his feet. "I didn't really have a choice. She became unstable again. She flew into fits of rage if I stayed out too late, or, heaven forbid, spent the night with her." He fixed his eyes back on Wash. "After a few months of that, it was clear she was driving Kaylee and me apart. We tried to compromise, but in the end, River couldn't stand to share me."
There were a host of things Wash wanted to say in regards to that, most of them derogatory, but he held his tongue.
For a time, Simon studied him in silence before he said, "You think River is better, but she's not. She's improved from how she was when you first met her, but she's not better." He shook his head mournfully. "She's never going to be better. The things they did to her when she was at that academy are never, ever going to go away. When I rescued her, I promised to protect her." He paused for a moment, drawing a breath. "And that's what I intend to do at the cost of everything else."
Wash ran his tongue over his teeth as he contemplated this. His eyes were focused now on his hands, which were folded in his lap. "Kaylee deserves better than a hun dan like you, anyway," he finally muttered.
"Because I chose to help my sister instead of be with the woman I love?" he questioned softly. "Maybe you're right. She does deserve someone who can devote himself entirely to her. I'm just sorry that man can't be me."
Wash got to his feet and stalked forward, looking down his nose at him. "Don't think this changes anything between us."
Simon shook his head, his voice changing in tone slightly. "What you're doing isn't healthy, Wash."
Wash's eyes narrowed menacingly. "And just what am I doing?"
A moment of silence passed between them. "Well, whatever it is, it's not involving these much." Simon gestured to the weight set.
"You stay out of my business, and I'll stay out of yours," he threateningly stated, still glaring down at Simon. "Don't try to buddy up to me now; it's too late." He backed off then and turned to leave.
"I'm only trying to help you," Simon called after him. "What you're doing is just going to destroy you."
Wash spun around on the bottom step and glared across the way at him. "That's where you're wrong. I know what I'm capable of, and I know what's benefiting me. Sitting on a chair while you test my blood for the hundredth time is not helping me. Listening to you go on and on about the marvels of my reconstruction isn't helping me. Feeling alive is helping me. Connecting with people is helping me. So that's what I'm going with." He turned and stalked up the stairs again.
When he reached the first landing Simon called out, "When was the last time you ate something?"
Wash stopped walking but didn't turn to look at him or reply. He just stared at the grates in front of him and let his hand grip the railing tightly.
"When did you last sleep a full night through? What's the longest you've gone without a drastic mood change?" He slowly started up the stairs after Wash. "You're losing weight again, and it's starting to show. You're wearing yourself down, hard. How long do you think that can last?"
Wash kept his back to Simon. "Does it matter?" he asked darkly. "Either I destroy myself this way and at least feel while I'm doing it, or I let myself waste away in misery, alone, feeling sorry for myself in my bunk."
"There has to be some sort of compromise," he gently pressed.
When Simon reached the stop of the stairs, Wash spun around. "Just leave me alone." His grip on the railing tightened. "If I decide I want your help again, I'll come to you. Until then, just stay out of my way and out of my business."
He held Simon's gaze for several long seconds. When he felt his words had effectively sunk in, he turned again and stalked off.
--
Wash arrived in the passageway between the galley and the crew quarters in short order. His attention was diverted from his course toward the bridge by Kaylee's cheerful voice calling out to him, "Wash!"
He turned briefly to look down at her in the kitchen. She quickly grabbed a bowl and held it up for him, grinning brightly. "I made soup!"
Wash's eyes darted around the kitchen, taking note of the fact that Jayne was already inside slurping down the soup at the table. His eyes darkened as they fixed on Kaylee. "I don't want any of your fucking soup!" he shouted, unprovoked. He tried to remember the inner sadness he'd seen in her eyes not too long ago, but it was elusive, replaced with her fake facade. "Just leave me alone," he added in a low growl.
He left her standing there dumbstruck and turned to continue along his way to the cabin.
"Don't you ever leave?" he snarled at River, who was sitting casually in the pilot's chair watching something over the Cortex.
"Don't you?" she questioned in a soft, calm voice without looking over.
The non-reaction to his anger took the fight out of him, and he deflated a little. His eyes trailed up to the monitor displaying a talking head. "What are you doing? You can't be watching the Cortex in here."
River arched an eyebrow and swiveled her chair towards him slightly. "Why not? It's the news." Her voice remained calm as she spoke. Slowly, she turned the chair back towards the monitor and resumed watching.
Wash stood there for several seconds and then shook his head. Something felt strange to him in a déjà vu sort of sense, but he couldn't pinpoint what. He just knew that he had never watched any broadcast over the Cortex when he'd been on the job unless it had been for the job, so seeing River absently watching it unsettled him.
It was more than that, though. He crossed to the co-pilot chair and slipped into it. There was a darker reason she shouldn't be watching the broadcasts on the Cortex, and he strained his mind trying to remember why. The noise from the news broadcast seemed to fill the entire cabin, loud and annoying, and he put his hands to his ears to block out the sound. He couldn't think about anything while it blared, and he desperately wanted to remember. "For the love of Buddha, can you turn that off?" he shouted at her.
River snapped her head and fixed her eyes on him. She was glaring. "You don't belong here," she stated in a low, even tone.
Wash pulled himself up to his feet in anger. Simon arriving in the cargo bay had voided his sanctuary there, and now he couldn't even sit in peace in the cabin and watch the stars. The galley was a throng of noise and confusion, and he found, depressingly, that she was right: he didn't belong. There was nowhere for him to go to feel comfortable with himself.
He stormed out of the cabin, regretting leaving the stars even as he did. He would lock himself in his bunk if he had to. It wasn't like he had much choice, unless he wanted to go sit in the passenger lounge and stare at the wall and hope Simon wouldn't happen along to poke needles in him.
He stepped on the door to his bunk to push it open, and that's when he heard the hushed voices in the galley.
He pulled up a little and glanced inside.
Kaylee was sitting on one of the chairs at the table. Her back was to him, but she was clearly crying, and Jayne was pacing in front of her, staring at the ground. The bowl of soup she'd made for him was forgotten, resting on the table beside her. "There's something wrong with him," Kaylee said in a low voice through her tears. "It ain't right."
Jayne looked uncomfortable. "Man came back from the dead. Ain't nothing ever gonna be right 'bout that."
"But he was doing better," she protested, looking up at Jayne. "He was getting better, for a while. Even Simon said so."
"Y'talkin' to the Doc again?" Jayne questioned quickly.
Kaylee shrugged. "We talk. Not a lot, but enough t'know that Wash ain't doin' so well now. Somethin' happened." Her fingers raised, and Wash guessed she was wiping her eyes. "Did he an'Zoe have a fight?"
"Why's something got to have happened? Things is just gettin' to him." Jayne shifted his weight and resumed pacing. "Don't know if something happened. Don't know, don't much care to, neither."
"No, guess you wouldn't. You don't care 'bout no one but yourself." She pushed to her feet roughly.
"Hey, I care," Jayne protested. "When it matters."
"Well, it matters," Kaylee retorted coldly as she looked up at him. "It's been matterin' every day since he got back, and you ain't lifted one finger t'try an'help him. Guess you didn't see no benefit in it for you, huh?" She started to turn.
Jayne's eyes widened just a bit as he stepped toward her. "Where you goin'?"
"I'm gonna go talk to him; figure out what's wrong," Kaylee answered and pushed past him. "Someone's got to, and it ain't like you're about t'start."
That didn't pacify Jayne any. "You deaf or somethin'? Didn't y'hear him say he wanted t'be left alone? Way I see it, man wants his privacy. Y'ought t'respect that."
"Respect what?" Kaylee replied putting her hands on her hips. "He's cryin' out for attention, Jayne. What he needs is a friend, not some hen xin hun dan like you tryin' to work out what he's thinkin'."
"Ain't gotta think 'bout it, Kaylee. Man says he don't want t'talk, then he don't want t'talk. We ain't like you womenfolk with your twisty ways. Menfolk say what they mean," he answered gruffly. "You go talk to him, he's just gonna make you cry again."
That brought Kaylee up for a bit, and she struggled for a moment. "Well, I can't just do nothing, Jayne."
"There's two people on this boat should be fixin' Wash with words, and thems the Doc and Zoe. You ain't got no reason to get in th'way," Jayne stated in a slightly softer tone.
"Well Simon ain't hardly the easiest guy t'talk to, you know that. An'Zoe ain't exactly lining up t'help him along, so the way I see it, I do got reason," she answered.
"An'I'm sayin' y'don't. So leave'im alone."
She took a step back from him. "What do you care either way whether I go or not? It ain't like it's gonna affect you."
"I just don't think you ought t'be stickin' your nose in other people's business, is all," Jayne countered hotly.
"Since when d'you care 'bout what's proper regardin' any of that? Wash is my friend!" Kaylee shouted back at him, her voice ringing down the hall.
"Well, you ain't his!" Jayne bellowed back.
"I'll believe that when he says it to my face!"
"That ain't likely, 'cause he's probably sick of you!"
Behind him, Wash heard the clunking of boots on metal as someone climbed out of their bunk. He turned just in time to see an angry Mal stalk past him and into the galley.
"What in the gorram hell is going on in here?" he demanded. "I ain't payin' ya'll to stand around here arguing with each other!"
Wash watched long enough to see Jayne and Kaylee look away from one another, sheepishly caught arguing red-handed. Kaylee had the decency to look embarrassed and frustrated, but Jayne just wore a strange look of wretched guilt on his face as he stared at the floor. Wash took the distraction Mal's arrival created to slip down the ladder and into the quiet safety of his own bunk.
But that night, after things had settled and everyone had turned in for sleep, Wash resurfaced and knocked on Jayne's bunk. When he answered with his familiar disinterested gaze, Wash simply said, "Time for my physical therapy."
--
In the morning when Wash stepped into the cabin after skipping breakfast, River made sure all the monitors were turned off and the cabin was quiet. He eyed her warily but then crossed over to the co-pilot's chair and settled heavily into it. He closed his eyes and soaked in the silence and the comfort of the cabin.
River watched him for a few seconds and then looked back at her controls and spoke, "We need to talk."
Wash sighed and cracked one of his eyes open to look at her. "I'd rather not," he softly replied. He was in a good mood and didn't want it ruined again.
Without preamble, she began, "You have to stop. You don't have anything left to destroy, but you keep going, always forward. Once you completely destroy yourself, you'll destroy us. I won't let you."
Wash sighed heavily and rested his arm on the armrest, burying his fingers in his hair. "Look, I just want a little peace and quiet and the ability to enjoy the stars. Is that really so much to ask?" He looked over to her with a raggedy expression that said that perhaps he hadn't slept as much as he had wanted to. "You fix your own problems first and then come try to correct mine."
"That's what you told Simon, but it won't work on me," she replied softly. "I don't want you to fail."
Wash rolled his eyes and looked away from her. "I'm not failing. I'm not doing anything wrong. Hell, I'm happy. I'm currently the happiest I've been since got here; hell, since I woke up sixteen months ago. And I'd be even happier if you'd shut up right now. So just lay off." He leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms, already feeling grumpy.
"But it isn't right," she prodded softly. Wash tried to ignore her, but she persisted. "You know it isn't. You know it's hurting you, and you like that."
Wash's hands fell from across his chest, and he gripped the armrests on the chair. "Hurt is better than the empty hollowness I'd otherwise feel," he quietly stated. His eyes shifted to look at her. "Give me something else to replace that with, and maybe I'll stop."
She studied him carefully. "It will be too late by then." She rose to her feet, and the ivory white dress she was wearing floated about her like gossamer, giving her a ghostly appearance. "There are other answers out there. You've just got to seek them. Don't settle." She laughed softly.
"I'm not settling, for your information. I'm perfectly happy with what I'm doing, and I don't need you reading my mind and telling me I'm not," he commented darkly.
River hesitated between touching him or not and eventually resisted. "What you need is a friend," she whispered. "Not more pain."
Wash snorted. "If you're trying to extend an olive branch, then you're too late. You're all way too late."
She twisted her fingers for a moment, staring at him, and then stepped backwards. Her head shook gently. "It's never too late unless you've closed your mind." She frowned. "You're empty, but you're not closed."
"Go run along and play now, River. I think you've got other people on this ship to annoy besides me." He shifted in his chair to redirect his attention to the black. "If you want me to be better, you'll leave me alone here with the stars."
She studied him a moment longer, but then she did: she left him alone on the bridge, trusting him by himself in the cockpit. It wasn't that she had finished her conversation with him; she simply knew he wasn't going to change his responses.
She slipped past the crew quarters and glided through the corridor that led to the cargo bay. It wasn't quiet like it often was there but instead had a low murmur as someone worked below. It wasn't the sound of a physical workout, just something menial, and she descended to investigate even though she knew who was there.
She found Jayne sorting through a crate of cargo stacked against one of the walls beneath one of the catwalks. He was clearly in the process of taking inventory, and she sat herself on a crate and watched as he counted. When he had reached a final tally and imputed it onto his pad, he looked up at her. "What?" he grunted before straightening and putting the lid back on the crate.
River studied Jayne a moment longer and then smiled. "You aren't helping," she explained softly, keeping her eyes on him.
He dusted his hands off. "Good t'know," he muttered and picked up a crowbar. He flipped it around and stuck it under the lid of another crate, trying to pry the lid off of it. He seemed resolutely done with River.
She, however, wasn't done with him. "He'll destroy himself, and then he'll destroy you. He has that much darkness. It's all he has."
"You talkin' 'bout Mal, now?" Jayne asked with a grunt as he popped the lid off the crate. He set the crowbar down and moved the lid aside.
River paused to reflect on this, then she shook her head. "Not this time."
"Look, I ain't doin' nothing wrong," he stated as he squatted and began looking through the crate. "He just don't want to be alone sometimes. I ain't doing nothing he don't ask for first."
River crossed her legs on the crate. "If he asked you to kill him, would you?" she questioned in a soft, kind voice.
Jayne looked up at her skeptically and then resumed poking through the contents of the crate. "Mal'd kill me if I did."
River cocked her head thoughtfully at that. "Would you cut him with a knife if he asked you to?"
Jayne reflected on that and set his pad aside so he could tally the contents better. "Maybe; if he wanted me to. Heard 'bout folk that like that sort o'thing." He shrugged. "That ain't what he's asking for, though."
River scowled. "It is the same thing. You're hurting him, and he needs to be healed."
Jayne got to his feet and turned to face her. "Sometimes pain is all we can feel, girly. An'y'know the good thing 'bout pain?" He studied her face intently. "It overrides everything else." He waved his hand a little. "He don't have t'think about being dug up or reanimated or 'bout Zoe or how everyone don't like him if he's worryin' 'bout how much his leg or back or whatever hurts.
"Now that ain't how I deal, and maybe that ain't how you or that prissy brother of yours deals, but if it's how Wash deals, then I don't see what your gorram problem is with it. Y'ain't gonna help him by talkin' at me."
For a moment, there was silence. Jayne went back to work, going back down to count his inventory and marking items on his checklist. He glanced over once to see if she was still there and figured she was contemplating what he said.
Finally, she got to her feet. "I want you to stop it."
He sighed and put his hands on his thighs to steady himself in his squatting position. "He asks me to, I will. Now scram."
River crossed her arms defiantly. "You're being problematic."
Jayne inclined his head. "Nice of y't'notice. Now get!" he insisted.
Her brow furrowed. "I could make you stop," she stated in a low tone.
Jayne got to his feet slowly and drew to his full height so he towered over her. He looked down at her carefully and grinned wickedly, closing his eyes to think of the most disgusting violent and sexualized images he could. He visualized them very clearly, projecting them out to her the best he could manage.
When he opened his eyes, she was scurrying up the stairs muttering and wiping roughly at her arms as though she were covered in dirt.
He just laughed and went back to work.
--
Simon looked up from where he was very carefully separating plasma from his blood supply. The machine to do the process was broken, so it required a lot of fine-tuning to get it to process correctly. He kept his eyes on River for only a few seconds as she slipped onto the counter in the infirmary and drew her knees to her chest before he went back to the task at hand. "Hello, River," he said in a drawn out voice as he concentrated on what he was doing. "How are you?"
River practically pouted. "Wash is going to kill us all."
This caused Simon's eyebrows to shoot up, and he looked around immediately. "I'm guessing not right now?" he inquired after sensing no danger.
She gave him a flat look and then flopped her hands out onto the countertop. "Why doesn't anyone see it?"
Looking back at his plasma Simon sighed. "See what, mei mei?"
"The danger," River stated.
"Can you be a little more specific?"
She pulled her knees up under the bottom of her dress and wrapped one arm around them. The other hand absently drew streaks on the smooth silver countertop. "He hurts more than in his heart, Simon. You should see that." Her eyes lifted from watching her finger tracing invisible characters to meet his across the room. "He likes the pain because it makes him forget. It's a different sort of pain, and he can understand it better."
Her words made Simon pause his separation and straighten up. "River…"
She shook her head, cutting him off. "He likes it, and he won't stop unless you make him. He needs something else. The pain isn't right. It keeps emptying him out, and there's so little to begin with." Her hand pulled off the counter and went into her hair. Simon crossed the room to her and put one hand on her leg, comfortingly. "It's Jayne," she whispered and looked at him intently. "He thinks he's helping, but he's not. No one notices or cares that he's hurting Wash. It's there. It's so obvious, but no one sees it."
"Shh, River," Simon said and rubbed her leg soothingly. "I care. And I do see it. I want to help Wash, but I can't help him if he won't let me."
"You have to, Simon. You have to make him see he has to stop. Mal…" She trailed off and then shook her head. She softly murmured in nearly a chant, "Malcontent. Malevolent. Malice. Malicious. Malady." She stopped short and touched Simon's cheek. "Malar." Her brow furrowed. "Male."
Simon stared at her, uncomprehendingly. "I don't . . . follow."
Her hand rose to brush her hair out of her face. "Mal. So much good from so much bad." She shook her head as if to clear the thought. "Nevermind," she added, as though Simon were a slow child unable to follow along.
She shifted on the counter and lowered her knees before peering at him earnestly. "You have to get Wash. Make him see. You can do it. If you don't, it will be too late." She blinked and shook her head. "It's never too late," she contradicted, and then her gaze returned to Simon. "But it will be too late for him. You have to." Her hand dropped to his and squeezed his fingers tightly.
Simon nodded. "All right. Of course I will. I just," he gestured with his free hand, helplessly. "I can't just drag him in here kicking and screaming for a full diagnostic."
She grinned brightly at him. "He just collapsed in the kitchen." She laughed, delightedly at Simon's expression. "Let's go get him!"
--
It took more effort than Simon thought it was worth to get Wash from the galley to the infirmary, but River insisted on it. She didn't insist on helping carry Wash's dead weight, but she was adamant that Simon hurried to get him in place before he awoke. It took nearly ten minutes to do it, and by that point, Simon was hardly in the mood to do a prognostic.
"For as much weight as he's lost, he still is certainly heavy," Simon grunted as he navigated down the stairwell with Wash draped over his shoulder.
River followed slowly, a hand trailing down the railing. "You shouldn't have stopped working out," she replied with a calm grin.
Simon ignored her and wiped his brow after he set Wash down in the examination chair. "He's going to kill me when he wakes up, you know," he stated to her. "He told me he didn't want any more examinations."
River nodded. "He wants this one." She was back on the countertop, watching. "He just doesn't know it yet."
Simon sighed and began running his scan over Wash's body. He took care to document his legs and arms and lower body carefully. "This goes against every practical medical procedure in my book. I should never be scanning an unconscious patient against his will," he muttered but kept working. In the past, he had tended to focus solely on the repaired parts of Wash's body, but River insisted there was more than just that, and he suspected she wasn't far off. The scan immediately picked up blood in his skin tissue indicative of bruising.
Certain areas were far more bruised than others, and there was enough of it to concern him. There were a few marks on his back and arms, but it was largely on his legs and lower half. Simon had never disrobed him or scanned him there to look for injuries. His brows furrowed at his readouts. "River, these bruises are—" he trailed off.
She was watching Simon work and just stared at him. "Don't back down," she softly said. "He's going to wake up now."
On cue, Wash's eyes fluttered as he took in a ragged breath. He blinked once, and then his gaze focused on Simon. Looking around, he groaned, "What am I doing here?" He started to sit up.
Simon put a hand to his chest and pushed him back down. "You passed out again," he explained coolly. "You're getting worse. When was the last time you ate something?"
Wash shifted uncomfortably beneath Simon's touch. "I don't remember."
"And that's because you're not eating enough," Simon replied. "I took the liberty of running a scan on you while you were out. Turns out you've got a lot more wrong with you than I thought. You're malnourished," River's brows went up at that. She smirked a little to herself, but Simon ignored her, "and you're mentally very unbalanced. I can give you something to keep your mood swings under control, and I think it would greatly benefit you."
Wash pushed Simon's hand away. "I don't want your help."
"I trust you now, Wash," Simon stated in a serious tone. "I expect you to trust me as well, even if you don't like what I have to say. These scans show extensive bruising all over your body. Can you explain that?"
Wash shifted in the chair to sit up better, but he didn't try to leave. "I just fell on my face in the kitchen; you saw me." Off Simon's unconvinced look, Wash elaborated. "And sometimes the weights slip, and I get hurt. It's nothing."
Simon looked him over carefully. "I thought you got Jayne to spot you so that wouldn't happen," he stated dryly.
This made Wash shrug and look away. "Even Jayne makes mistakes."
Simon shifted around until he was in Wash's view again. When he spoke, his tone was serious and intense. "I want you to stop training with Jayne." He studied Wash's eyes keenly and watched for a reaction. After several seconds of silence had passed, Simon continued, "He is hurting you."
The hush in the room stretched on, and then Wash looked away. He noticed River sitting on the counter for the first time, and his eyes narrowed in comprehension. "That's great," he hissed and sat up. When Simon tried to keep him in the chair, he pushed him back and got to his feet.
He was dizzy still from his fainting spell, and he reached a hand out to steady on the chair. "Now I've got the siblings tag teaming me. That's just fantastic!"
"Wash," Simon protested. "I'm serious. You have got to stop. There are better ways to deal with this than what you're doing. We're only trying to help you, and if you stopped thinking everyone was out to get you for just one second, you'd realize that."
Wash snarled. "I don't want your help! How many times do I have to say that? I'm doing just fine on my own." He started towards the door and then turned around to look between the two of them. "If either of you try this again, I promise you'll regret it. I just want to be left alone."
"That isn't true," River stated firmly, staring at him. "You desperately don't want to be alone, but you push everyone away."
"Shut up!" Wash shouted at her, clearly angry and agitated. "Just shut up, both of you." He glared at her and then Simon. "I'm an adult--older than both of you, if I recall--and I know what I can and can't do. I appreciate your concern, I really do, but I don't need either of you babying me." He didn't sound very sincere.
"It isn't going to just stop, Wash," Simon said cautiously. "It's going to destroy you, and him, and maybe this whole crew. Is that really what you want?"
Wash sobered for a moment and stared hard at Simon. He sought words for a moment and then shook his head. "Looked to me like this crew was shattered when I got here in the first place. Maybe I've introduced a fast death instead of a slow one, but the end result was going to be the same either way."
There was no reply to that. Wash stared at them both for several seconds longer and then, seeing he wasn't being challenged anymore, turned and stalked off.
When he was gone, Simon sighed, defeated. "Well, we tried. Again."
River shook her head. "It isn't over."
Simon gestured to the empty doorway but looked at her. "He left. What else can we do?"
Slipping off the counter, she moved to the chair. Resolutely, she said, "Now we tell Mal."