Simon watched the Firefly fly away with undisguised relief. He had just spent three weeks on board. It was a relatively short time considering they had been planet-hopping from one side of the 'Verse to the other, but they had been some of the longest of his life after the weeks following the day he lost River. Even before he entered Serenity's cargo hold, he knew he had no ally on board. The shepherd could have been one, but a man of the church might feel morally obligated to denounce him, so Simon had avoided him as much as he could. He had divided most of his time between the infirmary and his cabin, sharing only a few meals with the crew. His behavior would have horrified his mother, but they were as far away from the civilized Core planets as possible and these people wanted nothing to do with him. They were probably as happy to get away as he was to see them go. More so, perhaps.

"Strange people you traveled with."

Simon turned back to his interlocutor, whom the captain had introduced as Bourne. The two men had only exchanged an almost reluctant handshake and a few quick sentences before Serenity took off, barely two minutes after her landing. Serenity left Simon on Regina with little more than the clothes on his back, which was all he had brought with him. Only the shepherd had wished him good luck. Leaning on the railing above them, Inara and Kaylee had smiled at him, but clearly it was only out of politeness. Jayne had grumbled he would have left him on Whitefall. Knowing the mercenary, Simon doubted he would ever want to set foot there.

"They are a peculiar bunch," he said to Bourne. "May I know how you met them?"

"They robbed us."

Simon didn't pretend he had just discovered that the Serenity crew were thieves. He doubted they would do anything legal if given a choice. He didn't know what a Companion was doing with them but didn't care enough to ask her. What surprised him was how little Bourne seemed to care.

"What did they rob?"

"A full shipment of medicines. I have an idea how much it would have sold on the black market, but when Reynolds realized what he stole, he returned the goods himself. Can't say the man impressed me at first, but it takes a hell lot of courage to do what he did. If they had a client, and I'm pretty sure they had, they must have been in a lot of trouble. I can respect a man like that, enough to do him a favor in return."

It doesn't take a genius to figure out that Bourne was trying to learn more about him. Simon wished he knew what to say. That gui erzi of a captain hadn't told him what his cover should be.

"You'll need to work on a cover story," Bourne said in echo to his thoughts. "People ask questions in a small community like ours. But don't worry too much. You're not the first to finish here because he's running away from something. Once they figure out you're here to disappear, they won't ask too many questions because they don't want to tell their stories in turn. Still, send them on the wrong track. Sometimes, rumors reach the troop's station at Hancock."

Simon froze. The Alliance was here? He took back what he had thought. Reynolds wasn't a son of a female dog, he was a chǔn zhū dé xìng. He hadn't even asked Simon what he thought before ejecting him to a planet where the Alliance had a presence.

"Do they come around here often?"

Bourne sneered.

"The army? The Alliance? Never, if they can. We're only some poor miners on a backward planet. We see them maybe twice a year when they feel they need to remind us everything we produce goes to the Alliance and that we'd better increase production if we want our medicine to keep coming. Sometimes we see a soldier on his own if he fancies the idea to look at our whores and see if they're in a better state than the ones in Hancock."

Charming, Simon thought, holding back a grimace of disgust. Bourne spat on the ground in contempt. Simon could only hope that it was about the soldiers' behavior and not on these poor women, but didn't asked. He shouldn't get on the sheriff's back, and it wasn't his problem. The Alliance rarely came to Paradisio. That was more important.

"Come on," Bourne said, waving his hand. "It's a little late to find you a bed, but there's always an unutilized bed in the prison. It'll be uncomfortable, but it's better than nothing. And tomorrow we'll find you a room in town."

"Aren't people going to ask questions when they see me appear like this?"

"Unlikely. How many fireflies are dropping off stolen goods or shady men do you think we see in Regina? Ten a month, at least! People'll ask questions, but not about that. And they'll shut up when they learn we finally have a teacher."

"Sorry, what? I'm not a teacher, I'm a doctor."

"And the Alliance's looking for a doctor. No, Reynolds make sure I understood you should make yourself forgotten. We've got medicine now, and a schoolteacher is much less interesting. I'm sure you'll manage with the kids."

In a flashback, Simon saw himself again in his childhood home, surrounded by gold and silks, having fun lecturing a young River. She could barely hold a pencil, but was already so much smarter than him. It was their little ritual at the start of each summer vacation. They opened their exercise books and Simon became the teacher for a day. Of course, as soon as River was over nine, she was the one who started teaching him.

It still hurt thinking of her. Simon didn't know why, but he was unable to cry for her, which did not mean he wasn't feeling her loss as strongly as the first day. Simon fought the nausea and followed Bourne.

The man explained how much a room cost and described his classroom's sorry state. Simon tried to listen, but he only wanted to be left alone with nothing but silence. He wouldn't find that here. After Serenity's engines and her crew's shouts and laughter, he would have to deal with the noises coming from the mines.

He missed Aberdeen. At least people left him alone there. It was best like that, never bothering anyone and no one bothering him unless there was some serious accident. Of course, Reynolds claimed that was the reason they discovered him.

"How many children will I have in my classroom?" he finally asked. If he was going to live here, he might as well know what he would have to face in the next weeks.

"Depends on how much work there is at the mine. The numbers may change from day to day."

"But Alliance laws forbid child labor."

"Not as much as people like to believe in the Core. In places like Regina, where the Alliance breathes down our necks to remind us we have only a few weeks left to meet the quotas? You better believe children go down in the mines."

"Are they, right now?"

"The last inspection was two months ago, so most of the kids should be in your class. Should, because when families have trouble finding money to finish the month when someone's sick or injured..."

Simon got it. He had never planned to set foot on the Rim; it was River who wanted to visit every planet and moon, but he now had an idea how the world turned outside of the Core. River would probably laugh until she cried seeing him there and then tell him to stop acting like a child. She would be right, of course. River was usually right. She called it her little sister's privilege, and she stuck her tongue out at him.

He tried to forget how much he missed her. Fortunately, they arrived at the prison, which gave him something else to occupy his thoughts. He hoped his discomfort with the situation was not too obvious, but he was horrified at the accommodations. Apparently, he was supposed to spend the night on a wooden bench with a thin blanket. Simon took it and thanked Bourne.

"It's only for the night," the sheriff said. "We'll install you tomorrow. I suspect you're eager to sleep in a proper bed."

He left. Simon immediately rolled the blanket into a ball and threw it at the other end of the cell. The thing probably had fleas. At least it looked like it. Simon was going to spend the night scratching himself, even if it was only his imagination working on him. There was no pillow either, of course. Simon resigned himself to using his bag as a pillow. He already missed his bed on Serenity. The crew were pretty much barbarians, but they had good beds at least.

"Welcome to the Rim," he mocked aloud, "we've got rats, fleas, and a lot of trouble, but nothing else."

River would have slapped him on the shoulder or the back of the hand if she'd heard him. She'd found beauty everywhere, even in a damp cell. Sighing, Simon sat down, looked dubiously at his makeshift pillow, and lay down. At least his "bed" was long enough that he didn't have to fold his legs. There wouldn't have been room.

Once he lay down, Simon sighed again. He probably wouldn't be able to sleep. Even if it was open, the cell door still looked threatening. Simon could imagine it closing any moment and finding himself locked behind bars in the morning, the Alliance coming for him.

He closed his eyes.

Simon may have slept three hours, but probably only that. He woke up every time he tried to turn over or his foot slipped off the bench. It was almost astonishing that he had even closed his eyes. Insomnia was a close friend by now. He bit back a groan and sat up, his whole body aching. There were six hundred and thirty-nine muscles in the human body, and Simon was certain that at least four hundred of them were hurting. There was no point in hoping for a shower or even rinse his face. Simon didn't want to see what the prison sinks looked like after seeing its cells. He desperately needed to freshen up, but he would have to wait. Biting back a groan, he stood up and grabbed his bag. After a moment's hesitation, he reluctantly picked up the blanket and laid it on the bunk. These people were going to help him. The least he could do was hide his disgust.

The sheriff was at his desk when Simon emerged from the cell corridor. Above the desk, the clock read seven. The man glanced at him over the pile of files that filled his desk and sat up.

"Coffee?" he asked. "It's disgusting, but it keeps you going for the rest of the day."

He wasn't exactly good at selling his coffee, and the smell coming from his cup was anything but encouraging.

"Oh my god, yes," Simon replied anyway, slumping into the chair in front of the desk.

"Didn't sleep well, huh?"

There was a small, amused glint in Bourne's eyes. Simon nodded, acknowledging that there was no point in lying, and eagerly took the cup that was being handed to him. He didn't spit the coffee out, out of a stupid reflex of politeness and because his brain was screaming at him he needed it.

"I warned you."

"I don't think there's any way to prepare yourself mentally for this," Simon grimaced, taking a second sip.

"Coffee on Regina is a rare commodity, if you want something decent at least. The colons have become very good at making a substitute. Enjoy the result."

"Is there a single coffee bean in it?"

"Better not to ask."

Wise man. Simon gulped down the mixture before thinking too much about it, then put the cup back on the table. Bourne glanced at him sideways and nodded, almost with satisfaction. Simon felt like he had passed a test, but he wasn't sure which one. He remained silent while Bourne finished his coffee more slowly, observing the room. They were bounties displayed on a wall, with their price. Simon's face may be pinned to a similar wall somewhere in the 'Verse. Not a nice thought in the morning.

The door creaked and Simon turned around. A woman came in, armed and looking every bit as friendly as Zoe Washbourne.

"Who's this?" she asked, nodding at Simon.

"A new resident," Bourne replied, standing up. "Meet Simon Kitard, our new teacher. Kitard, this is Lexie, my assistant."

The woman stepped forward and shook Simon's hand.

"Not too soon. I suppose you'll be giving him a tour?"

"I will. I'll let you run the shop."

Relieved to have something to do, Simon stood up at the same time as Bourne. He couldn't leave the prison too soon, but soon discovered that the whole town looked the same.

The sun was shining on Paradisio, but everything smelled of mud and gas. Two out of three people were coughing. Simon finally noticed the limp of the sheriff. Many others had the same gait, and in twenty paces Simon counted a hunchback, two crooked backs, and a person holding his arm as if he were causing him excruciating pain.

"Bowden's disease?"

"You've got quite the eye. Yes, that filth is everywhere here, but rest assured, we have enough pescaline to cure everyone now or to prevent it from developing further in those already affected. You'll receive your dose like the others."

"Let me guess. That's what Captain Reyolds stole?"

"Stole, and brought back. As I said, a respectable man, all things considered."

Simon nodded. The sheriff didn't know how much Reynolds lost by bringing back the goods. He probably didn't have a good idea of what pescaline was worth on the black market. Simon did. He'd done a lot of research when he'd tried to break River out. If his money hadn't been enough, he'd have robbed the hospital to fund his plans, and pescaline was a very profitable drug. Reynolds could truly be applauded if he had half the knowledge that Simon possessed and still had returned the drugs. He was worth more than Simon thought he was.

Or maybe he wasn't. After all, Reynolds had left him on a planet infested with Bowden's disease. The man prove that you could be a hero and a jerk at the same time. Simon wasn't sure he understood him. Maybe Reynolds didn't understand himself.

"This is it. Shall we go up and see?"

Simon nodded. He was glad to go inside and not see these poor people deformed by the disease any longer. It made him ashamed, and he didn't want to dwell on that. Better to discover his new workplace.

Like everything else in the city, it was decrepit and smelly, a simple room with two windows, a desk, and a dozen benches. Simon did not expect to find technology, but there was not even a board to write the lessons.

"Is that all?" he dared to ask.

"Each student brings what they need."

"And those who do not have the means?"

The sheriff shrugged. Simon understood. They stayed at home or worked in the mines.

"You'll need to buy things, I suppose. The city will give you an advance on your salary. And there's a room behind, mostly for storage, but with a small bathroom, a place to cook, and a connection to the cortex. You can sleep there if you need, but I suppose you want a hotel room to begin, and then a place to stay."

Simon crossed the classroom to look, glad the journey into the city had prepared him. At least the room wasn't damp like the cell. He could put a bed here. Simon didn't need anything more. Wanted nothing more, deserved nothing more. Besides, a hotel room probably wouldn't be much better, not in Paradisio, and he didn't have any money to spend. Almost everything he still had a few days ago now belongs to Reynolds. Besides, if he wanted to go unnoticed, a hotel probably wasn't a good idea.

"That'll do," he said.

After that, Bourne quickly handed him the keys. He was clearly eager to get back to his duties, but he didn't leave until he'd wrung an assurance from Simon that he'd start teaching in less than three days. When he was sure he'd gotten what he wanted, he left. Simon closed the door behind him in relief before collapsing against the wall. He could do it. He could do it. He just wasn't sure he had the strength.

The next few days were hard. Simon wished he could lock himself away and hide in his bed like he did in Aberdeen. Alas, people would not give him that luxury here. He had to teach every morning, sometimes to ten, sometimes to twenty, sometimes to forty children. Everyone seemed delighted to see a teacher, but not to the point of losing a pair or two of hands that could be useful around the mine or the house for more than a day or two at a time. The children had also gotten into the habit of wandering around as they pleased, and Simon quickly learned that he would only have a full class on rainy days and only if the mine was also closed. While the parents did not seem to be in a hurry to force their children to go to school, they all had strong opinions about what Simon should teach them, and he could not walk three steps in town without being stopped and told what he should include in his lessons. But even as they tried to teach him his new profession, everyone wanted to show their gratitude to the new teacher. Simon had thought he could stay locked up in the afternoons, but people kept coming to his door to offer him food, clothes, or clean sheets. They weren't bad people; they weren't good people; they were just people, but they were tiring. Except perhaps when he began as an intern, Simon had never been this tired, even after a twenty-hour shift.

On the eighth day, Simon said goodbye to the last students who lingered on the doorstep and closed the door behind them. He sighed and stopped to smile. He still had much work to do. He needed to assess exactly how each child was doing, now that he knew more than their names, but it wasn't a task he was keen to take. He admired teachers, but he didn't have their faith in the virtues of education. Simon still sat down at his desk to grab a sheet of paper and a pencil, but instead of writing, he put his head in his hands. For half an hour, he stared at the sheet. Unfortunately, it stayed hopelessly blank.

A beeping coming from the next room made him sit up. He panicked when he realized it was a communication on the cortex. Who could contact him in this godforsaken place? Simon shaked as he pressed a button. The screen lit up and he immediately recognized the person in front of him.

"Hello, doc."

"Captain Reynolds?"

His surprise brought a little smile to the captain's lips.

"What, you're not happy to see me?"

"No, of course not. It's just that..." Simon interrupted himself, searching for words.

The captain immediately cut him off in his thoughts, his eyebrows furrowed and his voice almost mocking.

"What, you thought I wouldn't ask Sheriff Bourne how to contact you? That I would leave you there without trying to get news of your installation?"

Yes, Simon wanted to answer, and why wouldn't he have thought so? He knew what he was worth, which was not much. He knew it and the crew of the Firefly could see it as well as him, even if they didn't know what he had done. If he was the captain, he would have forgotten to get in touch, on purpose. A chǔn zhū like him deserved to be dropped on the first planet he came across and forgotten there. On the screen, the captain snorted. Simon gave him a dark look.

"Well, you left me on a planet where Bowden's disease is endemic."

"Don't fancy kids of Ariel and Sihnon and other Core words receive vaccines against every little annoyin thing like the Bowden? The rest of the 'Verse can kill itself working to pay drugs that will just stop the disease from spreading while you'll never catching it. Ain't right to me, if you ask."

It surprised Simon to see him so well-informed. They only spoke a few times, but Reynolds didn't give him the impression he usually frequented the civilized world of the Core. Still, he traveled with a Companion who came from the central planets. She must be his source.

Simon suddenly realized how the captain saw him. To Reynolds, he was just an arrogant rich kid and, as such, didn't deserve any consideration. Simon had thought Reynold had forgotten the risks on Regina, or that it was revenge for when he refused to treat Zoe Washburne when they landed on Aberdeen. It would have been fair after what Simon did. The Serenity crew was right to despise him. And Reynold was right, Simon couldn't catch the Bowden. Simon's parents, the university, and the hospital had taken measures to protect him from every known disease. His father must be kicking himself to have spent all that money on him for nothing.

Still. Simon felt angry, not because of his father, he was done with him, but because of the captain.

"Do you even realize that not all inhabitants of the central planets have received the Bowden vaccination?"

The captain shrugged.

"Maybe not all of them, but Inara said a young man with your well-bred accent must have received A-grade treatment."

Simon saw red. Not everyone had his father's money, even in Londinium. Even River hadn't received as many vaccines as he had unless her torturers at that "school" had taken care of it. Someone else than him could have be infected by the disease, only because Mal despite "rich kids from the Core". Well, it wasn't right for him either. Simon almost broke the screen when he cut off the conversation, but he didn't care. He needed to get out, to take a breath. Fresh air would do him good. Simon strode out of the room and crossed the classroom, but froze on the doorstep.

He couldn't get out, he couldn't meet the eyes of all these people, he couldn't help them, because he couldn't afford it, because he needed to stay hidden... Simon couldn't meet their eyes. If he spent the next twenty years working in the mine, his bones would still be strong, while the coughing child he saw every morning walking in his classroom with cautious steps like an elderly woman would be dead. Her parents send her because it was better than coughing all day in her bed. He was so ashamed of himself every time he said hello to her. Nothing he could teach her would change her life. She wouldn't see adulthood.

Simon let go of the handle. Just in case, he checked the lock was secure. He couldn't stand a visit right now. He should keep busy, correct the children's exercises, or prepare lessons. His desk was only ten paces away. Instead, he slid down the ways, rested his head against his knees, and closed his eyes.

Three times, someone came knocking. Three times, Simon stayed still until the person left. Each time, he closed his eyes again. He rarely slept these days, only dozing like he was doing now. Simon should probably make a diagnosis of his condition, but he was too tired for that.

To his great surprise, Reynolds contacted him again after a few days. Simon was sitting near the screen when the call came. He took it by reflex and almost hung up when he saw his interlocutor.

"I ain't a good person," the captain admitted.

Simon was already reaching out to cut the communication. He stopped and waited. Reynolds looked down, then straightened up and stared at something Simon couldn't see. The light was dim, which meant it was night on Serenity.

"Really. I ain't."

"I had no idea", Simon wanted to say, but he was too tired to be sarcastic.

"Where are you?" he asked, without knowing why.

"Somewhere between Three Hills and Beaumonde."

Simon didn't want to talk with Reynolds. He didn't want to talk to anyone, but tonight it was that or staying alone with his thoughts, and his presence was unbearable sometimes. Talking to someone equally despicable and irritating looked like the perfect remedy to his terrible state.

"Let me guess... You found a highly illegal and dangerous job?"

"Just a little illegal and moderately dangerous this time. Listen, doc, I went a little too far last time."

Simon shook his head. He had had time to think about it. These days, he always had too much time to think.

"You said nothing that wasn't true."

"Ya right. Still. So, how's the installation goin?"

Simon sighed and let himself fall back into his chair.

"Badly", he admitted before falling silent.

"You ain't saying. Could have guessed that myself. Sorry to break it to you, but I've seen dying people who looked more rested."

On the other side of the screen, Reynolds settled more comfortably into his captain's chair. He no longer looked ready to mock Simon or be full of himself like he usually did. He just looked curious. Simon still hesitated before he answered. What pushed him was the strange certainty that Reynolds would understand.

"I don't know if I can do it," he admitted. "Pretend that everything is normal, that..."

His throat tightened, preventing the words from getting out. So much the better, perhaps. Reynolds said the Alliance didn't monitor the cortex closely, and that communications were safe, as long as you avoided saying certain words or names. He still preferred not to say anything that might make any listening ear think of Simon Tam. He couldn't bring himself to talk about it, anyway. Most of the time, even thinking about it made his stomach clench. And besides, what was the point? It was too late, way too late for regrets.

"Then don't try to. Live with it, whatever your problem is, keep your head up, and let the rest of the galaxy mind its own business."

"It sounds so easy when you put it like that," Simon laughed softly. "Did it work for you?"

"I've got Serenity."

Simon stopped smiling. The man had his ship, something that was the center of his world. Simon had nothing like that anymore. Everything important had been taken away from him. Sometimes, he wished he had a Serenity. Like he deserved it.

"It is not that easy. Not for me."

"It never is, not for anyone. The trick is to stay busy. The sheriff told me he gave you a job?"

"I teach kids, or at least I'm supposed to. I do not know what I'm doing."

"Yeah, in my experience, you always get that feeling when you work with kids. Are they difficult?"

"No, but I don't know how to deal with kids who... well, don't understand everything the first time you explain something. They have so much to learn, and I don't know where to start."

He had almost said "Kids who aren't geniuses," but that would have sounded terribly condescending and that wasn't his intention. It was true, though. In his entire childhood, Simon had probably only spoken three or four times to a kid who wasn't at least nearly as smart as him. Now that he was facing the sons and daughters of miners, he was thinking his privileged education was more of a hindrance than an asset in the face of the realities of the world.

"Start with what they know and don't be ambitious. Kids from the Rim don't need great teachin."

"But some might aspire to better," Simon protested, even though he knew it was in vain.

"Tell that to those who decide who's useful to society and who is not," Reynolds said harshly.

From his tone, it was clear he thought that Simon was partly responsible for the situation. He probably wasn't wrong. Simon had never been interested in the future of children from planets like Regina, or their parents'.

"So I can't do anything for them. There is nothing I can do to help them, whether it is teaching them something beneficial for their situation or applying the skills I have been trained in."

"Why not?"

Simon glared at the captain. They both knew why. The Alliance was looking for a brilliant young doctor, not a country schoolteacher. How stupid he had been to help the sick he saw on Aberdeen. He had thought keeping his hands and mind busy would do him good, and he needed the money. He would have been better off disappearing completely under the radar. After all, his oath didn't mean much anymore.

"What I mean," the captain said, "is that a schoolteacher can have other talents. Small talents or knowledge, nothing too fancy or flashy."

It was an idea. There were probably dozens of things he could do or say to improve the health situation of the people of Paradiso. It wouldn't be much and it wouldn't be enough, but... A series of insistent beeps pulled him out of his thoughts. On the other side of the screen, Reynolds straightened up.

"I'm going to have to leave you, doc. There's a ship incoming, I need to check that it's no trouble for us. Or, like, more trouble."

The conversation ended, leaving Simon slightly worried about Serenity and her crew. He waited, but the screen remained silent. Finally, accepting he would get no news tonight, Simon got up, took his jacket, and left his room. He wanted to ask Bourne a few questions if it wasn't too late for him. If not, a walk would do him good.

After ten minutes of walking, he realized the captain had not asked him a single intrusive question about his despondency and lack of sleep. The man was as unsavory as one could be, but he understood, perhaps better than Simon, what he was going through. Simon wondered who or what he had lost.

Days passed. Simon often thought back on his conversation with the captain and the advice he received.

He felt better, not by much, but better. He still had trouble getting up in the morning. More than once he woke up, lying fully clothed on a bed that he had not made up. These days, he stared at the ceiling, waiting for the moment he couldn't wait any longer before getting up. Simon had not much pride left, but he refused to get up when the first children arrived at his door and to teach them in the clothes he had worn the day before.

Sleeping was still difficult. He would have gladly prescribed himself medication to knock himself out, but it was impossible and he could not afford to have medication brought to Paradiso with his meager salary. There was no doctor in town. People had no choice but to make do with the bare minimum. In any case, Simon was getting used to sleeping very little and was much less sleepy during the day. It was a start.

The days seemed much shorter than before. A few weeks ago, they had been endless. Now, sometimes it seemed as if he had barely had time to blink before the day was already over. Simon discovered there was a lot to do in Paradisio. In the morning, he taught basic grammar and arithmetic to children who knew nothing about it and found his teaching boring. He struggled to make himself understandable to them, but he tried. He had always known that he and River had been gifted children, but he only really understood it now, confronted with these children. His frustration was endless, but with himself, not with them.

In the afternoons, rather than moping or trying to prepare lessons that he would have to abandon the next morning when faced with the reality of his students' level, he had taken to following some of them into the hills surrounding the town. They spent the afternoons hanging around anyway and as he had nothing important to do, it was better to stay with them so that they weren't entirely unattended. Together, they discovered they had a lot of things to teach him. They showed him the local flora, an old open-air mine, or an air shaft for one that was currently being exploited. Sometimes, he even incorporated a few notions of biology or engineering between their confusing explanations and taught them something in turn. They found his improvised lessons much more interesting than geometry. Simon did too.

Spending his afternoons under the harsh sun rather than under his roof did wonders for his health. It also gave him time to think. He was thinking more and more about implementing the captain's last advice, but he was still hesitant about how to go about it. Paradiso had no doctor and Simon could not take on that role, but perhaps it could be possible to set up a small dispensary. At the very least, he could teach his students a few things about basic first aid and hope they would teach it back to their parents.

Days on Regina turned into weeks, and Reynolds kept contacting him every now and then. It was always nighttime on Serenity when he called. Simon wasn't sure why he bothered, but he found the company more enjoyable than the townspeople. Reynolds was a rough man, with not much kindness in him, but Simon dared to be a little more himself when he talked to him, while he saw everyone on Regina, except the sheriff, as a potential informer of the Alliance.

They never talked for long. Simon had surprisingly little time to himself recently and there was always something to do on a ship like Serenity. Most of the time, they just exchanged some news. Simon explained what he planned to do with his students the next day. During his classes, he sometimes wrote an anecdote in the back of his mind to tell Reynolds. He had done the same with River, once, telling her about the nicer tales of the hospital, but never about the bad ones. The captain often laughed, especially when Simon was the victim of his own tale, or when a parent was. He never laughed when Simon told him a stupid thing his students did or said. Simon was almost certain that Reynolds had never really received a formal education, but the man respected education, to a certain limit. It was so different from people on Osiris who laughed at the stupidity of the Rim citizen. They weren't stupid. Simon no longer confused intelligence and education.

In exchange for his stories, the captain shared with him how Serenity stayed together due to pure conviction and the skillful fingers of her mechanic. He talked about the shady people he met on planets whose very names made Simon's mother shiver with horror, and what life was like on the Border and the Rim. To hear him, one would have thought that the life he led was romantic, but Simon was a fugitive and quickly learned to scratch under the surface of his stories. If things were half as easy as Reynolds said, Serenity wouldn't be in this state.

They never talked about important things. The captain never asked how Simon was coping or what had led him there. Sometimes, Simon wondered if Reynolds had looked up his real name and what they said on the Cortex about him. He hadn't dared to do it himself, for fear of attracting attention. Reynolds didn't comment on the fact that Simon never seemed to get enough sleep. In exchange, Simon pretended not to notice that if Reynolds contacted him at night, it was more than likely to occupy himself during his own insomnia. Likewise, he tried to erase from his vocabulary any language that was contemptuous of Serenity and Regina's universe. In other circumstances, losing his status and saying goodbye to his lavish life on Osiris might have eaten him up. But Simon couldn't even bring himself to feel sorry for himself. He got what he deserved, living on this planet eaten away by disease, always afraid he would get caught.

And he would be, someday. One way or another, the Alliance would find him and take him down. Simon couldn't even bring himself to fear the idea. He accepted it with fatalism. Simon didn't think he was suicidal, but the truth was, there was no reason for him to still be here. He had failed in every way. River was gone because he hadn't been able to save her. Regina's children, Reynolds' calls, all of it was just a welcome distraction from the banging on his door and the guns pointed at his forehead. Still, he was grateful to the captain for giving him this. It made the days less trying. In some ways, it would have been easier to just surrender and let the Alliance do their job. But if Simon no longer had the strength to fight, he still refused to chew the work of this bunch of húndàn.

Curse the Alliance.