Malcolm Reynolds' eyes opened two days later. The first thing he noticed was that he was alone. The second was that he wasn't in his bunk. Neither of these were ever good signs upon waking. He tried to sit up, and fell back with a load groan when his aching muscles refused to comply. "Tzao gao", he gritted out from behind clenched teeth.
His mind tried to clear itself as his eyes adjusted to the light. He'd either gotten really drunk and passed out somewhere, or he was injured and in the infirmary. He blinked a few times. Slowly, his eyes began to register his sterile white surroundings, and he swore again. Infirmary. Damn.
"Awake and swearing! Good, I was getting worried", came Simon's voice from the doorway. His tone was amused, but to Mal's practiced ears, it sounded somewhat strained.
Mal squinted as the other man entered and came to sit in the chair beside the bed. His memory came flooding back when he saw the mass of angry red bruises spread over the right side of Simon's face. He reached out weakly to brush his fingertips over Simon's cheekbone, his face dark with concern and speculation over what was going to happen next. "You alright?" he asked.
Simon chuckled softly. "That's supposed to be my line. I just have a few bruises. You've been unconscious for nearly two days. The others have all been in and out to see how you're doing. Especially Kaylee." He grew somber. "You had internal bleeding from when those two thugs kicked you in the stomach. It took two blood transfusions to stabilize you enough for surgery."
Mal lifted the white sheet covering him and stared in dismay at the bandage wrapped around his midsection. "Just what I needed. Another gorram scar", he said sourly. "That it?"
"You have a few bruised ribs, and one with a hairline fracture. It's remarkable, really, that they didn't cause more damage." Simon managed a wistful smile. "So much for our afternoon of married people stuff."
Mal's mouth curled into a half-grin. "Hate to say, but when you've got a fugee doctor and a captain who's forced to mingle with unsavory characters in the name of semi-legal business, that is married people stuff."
Simon chuckled again as he took Mal's hand and laced their fingers together. "I think you may be right."
They sat like that for a while. Mal studied their joined hands, the smooth white skin of Simon's and the rough tan of his own, the knuckles on both still red from where they'd smashed against bone. He studied the glint of the gold bands encircling their ring fingers under the infirmary's harsh fluorescent lights. They both knew what was coming, but tried to stave the moment off anyhow, gripping tighter and wishing it was enough.
Simon was the one to surrender. He spoke quietly, fighting to keep his voice even and unbroken. "I meant what I told my father. I'm happy here on Serenity. So is River. I don't think I've ever been as at home anywhere else." He brushed a thumb tenderly over Mal's knuckles. His eyes dropped and he was silent for a moment. When he looked back up, his face was harder, more determined.
"But I have to leave. River and I...We have to leave Serenity. I don't know whether my father will give up or not now, but it's...it's not a risk we can take anymore. He knows what ship we're on, he knows your name...All he has to do is inform the Alliance and we'll all end up dead or in their custody. It's not safe anymore. Not for any of us."
Mal wanted to deny it. He wanted to tell Simon that they'd be fine, that they would evade Alliance capture like they'd always done. He wanted to reassure the younger man that he could protect him and River both.
Unfortunately, that was something he knew he could no longer do. Serenity was no longer the safest place in the 'verse for Simon and River to be. If they stayed, the Alliance would catch up with them sooner or later, probably sooner, and the whole crew would pay the price. Mal wanted Simon with him, but not if it meant the destruction of everything and everyone they cared for. So he said the only thing he could. "I know." He whispered it again, his voice heavy. "I know." Unable to think of anything else to say at the moment, he slid over and patted the spot next to him. "C'mere."
The doctor in Simon opened his mouth to protest. Mal was still recovering from his wounds and there wasn't a lot of room on the narrow hospital bed. However, the lover in him knew they both needed it too badly. He moved out of his chair and, mindful of Mal's injuries, curled up next to his husband. He rested his head on Mal's shoulder and stretched an arm over his chest, palm over heart. Mal's arms came around him tightly, and they lay there holding each other in a despairing silence until sleep finally claimed them both.
Sorry, I know that was short!
I'd just like to thank everyone who's stayed with the story so far…this is my first attempt at such a long story, and I really appreciate all the support you guys have given me. :o)