Simon was grateful for the lack of judgment in Reynolds' voice. Hadn't the man been a soldier in the past? He'd implied it during their conversation, and everything from his clothes to his way of talking screamed he had fought on the wrong side of the war. Or was it the right side? Simon wondered., Some things he'd seen on the Rim made him question the Alliance's side of the story. But it didn't matter who was right and who was wrong. There was a part of Reynold that had not left the battlefield. He, too, had lost people he had sworn to protect. He must have thrown up in a trench before returning to the attack, going back to the killing. There was a world of difference between a soldier and a doctor. They touched death in such a different way. Yet, for the first time, Simon felt he and Malcolm Reynolds weren't so different.
"No," he finally said. "I'm not ready. But I don't have a choice."
"Of course you do."
Simon turned his head. He couldn't believe what he heard, but the captain was deadly serious.
"You could say you've done everything you could, that you don't have the meds or the people you need to fight this infection and ask us to turn around and get you back on Regina or anywhere else. Who would blame you?"
"Myself. And all these people. They need help!"
His voice shook with suppressed rage. How could Reynolds suggest such a thing? The captain stared at him for a few seconds, then laughed. He stood up and gave Simon a hand.
"Last doctor I saw who's not you, the man was so drunk Zoe took his instruments away so she could operate me herself. The one before got paid in nature, even if the client was under sixteen. A real Ho Tze Duh Pi Gu this one, let me tell you. On the Rim, you're the closest thing to a gorram miracle these people will ever get. You may feel like your life is over, and you better shoot yourself and end it once and for all, but I think deep down you know you're wrong. You've got something everyone lacks from here to Persephone: you can give a damn about what's happenin' to poor folks and you're not just all words, you act. It's a rare thing here. People like you, people who lost everythin', usually they lost that quickly. You didn't, so focus on that rather than on what you've lost. Dong ma?"
Simon took the outstretched hand. Without the help, he wouldn't have had the strength to get back up.
"What would you have said if I had accepted your proposal to leave?"
"We would've left. I ain't blamin' nobody for puttin' their life before others. Sometimes, survivin' is all we can do."
"But?"
"But I would have dumped you on the first planet on our path. I've never liked cowards who run away and ignore the oaths they swore."
Having studied trauma surgery, Simon had nonetheless been attentive in history class, even contemporary history, which hadn't been his cup of tea. A brown coat, a ship named Serenity... The remaining members of the brown coat high command fled from Serenity Valley, abandoning those who fought there to die. There had been rumors of rapes, cannibalism, and tales of officers shooting down their men one by one before turning their weapons on themselves, just to spare them a long agony.
"Fortunately, I think we're on the same wavelength there, Captain."
He hadn't let go of Reynolds' hand. Realizing that, Simon tried to pull away, stammering an excuse, but the captain squeezed his hand one last time before letting it go. Did Simon see respect in his eyes? It would be the first time. Usually, Simon had to pretend he didn't see the pity the captain felt toward him.
"Know what? I think we are. Think you can walk all the way there? No offense, but you look like the slightest wind could knock you down."
"I must be lucky there isn't one, then. I'd hate to slip into the mud and have to disinfect myself before getting back to work. Do not worry about me. I will be fine. I just need to sleep for an hour or two."
"Say twenty or thirty and you won't even be close to the count. I don't think you even slept that much during the trip. If I were a gambling man, I'd say you've slept less than twenty hours in the last two weeks."
Simon deliberately chose not to think how close he was to the count. It would be even more depressing than the rest of his life.
"Then I'll try to aim for three hours of sleep on the next occasion."
"Four."
"Is this a negotiation? I feel like I'm in a hostage situation."
"You are. Four hours of sleep in one round, no interruptions, on a bed and with an actual meal before or after, your choice. You do that and I ain't tellin Book to drag you back to Serenity and force you to sleep for eight hours straight."
Reynolds seemed to worry about him. Simon wanted to tell him he wasn't worth it. That he didn't want to die, but sometimes it just seemed easier if he would just disappear someday. Who would miss him? It would be nice to let go of the guilt, of the bad dreams where River fell again and again into a bottomless pit. But Simon would never tell this to a man he didn't really know, even if they may have more in common than he thought. He sighed.
"I'll do my best, Captain. But I can't promise anything. If I'm needed..."
"Train an assistant. Train two. That's what military surgeons always do. Need someone to use the amputation saw when they're too dazed from lack of sleep to use it without hitting an artery."
"Charming."
"But true. Look around you. Find who's interested when you do your doctorin' thing or someone who's got the instinct for it. Try Book. The shepherd knows more about medical stuff than he's letting show. As for sleepin', don't you have something to help in your doctorin' bag?"
"I have."
"So?"
"These people need to sleep more than I do. And it would open a whole new can of problems."
"I don't get it."
Simon sighed.
"Most sleeping pills, those available outside the Core I mean, are habit-forming. I only have a limited supply. If I started and had to stop, my insomnia would get worse, as it usually happens. I have always been reluctant to prescribe them, except in cases of absolute necessity and only for very short period of time. Dependence is not a pretty thing. Plus, they induce daytime drowsiness which is not recommended for a doctor."
Sleeping pills also accentuated a depressive state in a patient, but Simon was reluctant to say that out loud. He would have to diagnose himself and acknowledge his suicidal behavior. No way he was talking to Reynolds about the cocktail of drugs he had nearly ingested on several occasions.
"All right, I get that. No sleeping pills for you. Nobody wants a doctor who falls asleep halfway through operating a patient. So you stick to good old traditional methods to fall asleep. The good old mix of exhaustion and alcohol."
Simon laughed until his eyes fell on the dispensary. The thought of everything he had to do exhausted him.
"Do your best, doc, and get some sleep before you make a mistake you'll regret. And eat something! Would be a shame for the local girls if you lost your handsomeness."
The reflection surprised him so much Simon blushed, which made the captain laugh. To regain his composure, he dusted off his jacket.
"I should head back."
"Probably. But seriously, you look like an old-day martyr. With that look, you only have to smile and Kaylee with fall to her knee and sing your glory, or somethin' else!"
The more he'd blushed, the more the captain would insist, but even after all these months, Simon still wasn't used to the Rim's crude language. Even though the captain probably meant well, it was still so embarrassing. He went toward the dispensary. Reynolds followed him.
"I'm joking, doc. But consider yourself warned. Our little Kaylee always had a weakness for wounded birds."
"I'm not worth it."
The captain made a strange face, but Simon didn't have time to linger on it. They were already in sight of the dispensary.
"Good luck, doc. You gonna need it."
"Thank you. I... Today was hard, but there's a good chance we overcome this epidemic soon. There have been no new cases since last night."
"That's good. Is there something we can do to help?"
Simon hesitated. The captain suggested it first, but he was still afraid to ask. He owned the Serenity crew too much already.
"I think we'll have enough medicine to help these people. But there's another problem. The food supply."
"You mean they're at risk of famine?"
"Maybe? The most affected by the miasmas are the ones who spend the most time outside. Children, field workers... It is the harvest, but they don't have enough hand to harvest the field and the rain killed most of the plants. They're running out of supplies. If you could go buy some in the neighboring communities..."
"With what money? They've already given you most of their saving."
Simon shrugged.
"Take it. I don't need it. As you well know, I'm a wanted man. I don't see how I could spend it, anyway."
"If you think that, you still have a few things to learn about livin' on the edge of legality. Anyway, I'll see what we can do."
"What do you mean?"
Reynolds makes a vague gesture with his hand. It did nothing to dispel Simon's concern.
"Take care of your patients, doc. I'll take care of the rest. Don't worry."
With a last friendly pat on Simon's back, he headed back toward the ship, no matter that Simon asked him to clarify his thoughts. Of course, Simon wasn't worried at all. The captain always gave him the impression of a man who knew what he was doing and wasn't an amateur. God, Simon hated irony. But since he could do nothing to stop the captain from being himself, he went inside the dispensary.
Flora's body had disappeared, taken away by her family. Simon's heart sank again in his chest, but he couldn't dwell on her death. He cleaned his hands, put his gloves back on, took a deep breath, and went back to work. He examined each of the fifty-six patients still in his care, one by one. Inside his head, he made yet another triage. For a good half of them, their state was progressing positively, and he was nearly sure they would live. Two-thirds of the other twenty-eight were in stable condition. The last third... He didn't want to think about it, but they would probably die, even if the Alliance suddenly stopped being a bunch of hwen dan and brought in the best medicines in the galaxy within the hour.
In the end, it didn't matter. Simon knew what he had to do. Fight, but prepare for the worst. Lose some fight, and start over with the next patient, and the next, and the next.
Strange. He felt lighter, despite what he saw in front of him. Talking with Malcom Reynolds had helped, even if he nearly broke down. For the first time in months, Simon felt ready to face what was coming, whatever it was.
Shepherd Books brought him a glass of water and an energy bar. Simon took it with some reluctance. He was getting used to life on the Rim, but he still hated the food. The water had a horrible metallic taste, and it was hot because it just had been boiled, but at least it was drinkable. Fiddler's Green was such a… cloaca. Simon never thought he would end up in a place like that, even after all these months of running and hiding.
"You should rest," Books said gently.
"You're not the first one to tell me that today."
"I am sure. Everyone here has your health at heart. Without you, this village would be a graveyard."
"It can still become one if we don't solve the food issue. But, maybe... The captain said he'd take care of it."
"Then I'm sure he will."
Simon nodded. He wanted to believe, but he had never been a good judge of people's character. River had known how to read people, not him.
"I'm going to sleep for two hours," he conceded. "Please wake me up if there's a problem, will you?"
"Four hours."
"Have you spoken to the captain?"
"My boy, I don't need to speak to anyone to see that four hours is the bare minimum you need to not collapse by the end of the day. We made a bed for you. Go lie down."
Simon was too tired to protest. The empty bed, made for him in the quietest corner of the room, called for him. He wrapped himself in the thin blanket and closed his eyes. A few minutes later, he heard an engine roar above his head. After that, he fell asleep like a log, feeling strangely comforted.
Since he had become a fugitive, Simon had sworn to himself he would always prepare for the worst. Unfortunately, he was still too trustful and optimistic to accommodate to life on the Rim. For the umpteenth time, he had been wrong about something, and this time it was about his diagnosis. The number of cases hadn't stabilized, it had just reached a plateau.
Twenty-four hours. It was all the time it took for all the beds vacated by the dead to be filled again with sick people. They went from fifty-six to seventy-three patients. Seventy-three. Numbers were spinning in Simon's head. Percentage of infected, percentages of remission, average age of patients, how quickly the disease spread in town... It was a disaster.
Two sick children looking out by the half-open window into the deserted street whispered excitedly, catching Simon's attention. Since he promised everyone he would take a break, he got out to see what was going on. Outside, he found Reynolds maneuvering the mule he saw in Serenity's hangar. A little bewildered, Simon took off his gloves and chirurgical mask to join him.
"Four crates of food, one of clean blankets, and a water purification system!" Reynolds greeted him with a smile. "I thought it better to come by myself and limit the risks of propagation to my crew. And it didn't cost a gorram thing! Not bad, huh?"
Simon wasn't shocked. He was stunned. The captain's smile became a little arrogant, as if he were challenging him to admit he had never expected such a success. Simon would gladly confess he didn't expect that. The captain could be proud of himself.
"That's... fantastic. I didn't expect so much generosity."
"Generosity? Don't make me laugh. We visited three towns. Everyone knew about the disease, and don't worry, it didn't spread outside this town. But these people certainly didn't plan on being all nice and generous."
"Then how did you get all of this?"
"The only way that works with people like that, threatenin' them to come back with a dozen sick friends if they didn't drop off the crates at a reasonable distance from the village."
"Never heard blackmailing was a means to save lives, but I seemed to have a lot to learn about life on the Rim, don't I?"
"You are. But you're getting better at that game if that makes you feel better."
"Am I?"
"Yes. You want to learn. It's more than yesterday."
The captain turned away with a satisfied smile to unload the crates. Simon moved to help him, thinking. The captain was right. Somewhere between his nervous breakdown and the moment he had to clean vomit off his apron, he had found something he had lost when he lost River, something like hope or faith. Strange how the mind could work.
Together, they put their newly gained supplies in the small room at the back of the building. When it was done, Simon nearly shook the captain's hand to thank him before he remembered the risk of contagion. He must really be tired if he nearly made a mistake like that. Still, he wanted to show his gratitude, if only because until now he had believed the captain to be just a mercenary like any other, maybe just a little more human, seeing how he maintained contact with Simon on Regina. Simon had underestimated him.
"Thank you. These crates are going to save lives."
"Hey, as long as I get my share of your money..."
Simon thought about the old cynicism movement, back on the Earth-that-was, long before the frenetic industrialization that forced humanity to leave its first home. Reynolds, with his dreams of self-sufficiency, his hate of the government rules on the Rim, and his nonchalance in the face of his own misfortune, might have pleased these philosophers.
Briefly, Simon wondered what kind of man he would be if River was here with him, if he would be a better man or a worse one. Probably the second one. Simon may have refused to risk his sister's health, to help people condemned to leave soon or all die here in a few years. He could heal them now, but the planet would still kill them if they gave it time. Simon had never been selfish for himself, but for River? He would willingly let the world burn. Except River was gone. Simon would have to learn to be someone other than River Tam's loving big brother, just as he learned he would never be that brilliant surgeon again.
"How it's going in here?" Reynold asked, nodding toward the dispensary.
"Not the way I hoped. Unfortunately, I specialized in trauma surgery. It is useful, to people like you, but these people would need an epidemiologist and a terraformation specialist, maybe a geologist. I know the base, how to sterilize the environment, to isolate the patients... but I did too little too late and I'm not sure how that horror spreads."
"Too little too late's still better than not at all and never. These people are counting on you, doc. Don't let them down."
"I won't give up on them. I won't."
"If you need another pickup, tell me. I'm your man. Otherwise, I'll stay away from the foul air, and the bad… everythin."
"I understand. You've already taken risks coming here twice."
Reynold frowned.
"Do you think there's a risk?"
"For you? I don't think so. The diseases spread because these people were already in poor health and undernourished, not to mention they'd been living with these miasmas since the first months of colonization. It takes time for such symptoms to develop. We would need to stay for weeks, maybe months, before we got sick. If I'm right."
"So I couldn't pass it on to the other without knowing I have it?"
"Again, I don't think so. It's highly unlikely if you take the usual precautions, which I'm sure you know."
"I'm not completely uneducated, doc, even if I didn't go to your fancy schools. All right. I'll take you on your word and I take you back to Serenity at the slightest cough on my crew. Good luck, doc! You'll need it. And get some sleep!"
Simon offered him a tired smile in response. After four days of caring for the sick, he was tired of lying and promising he would sleep. He just wanted to open these crates and see what he could get from them. The break everyone was asking him to take would have to wait. He's been putting it off for over twelve hours, anyway.
In his impatience, he even forgot to say goodbye. Reynolds just sniffed in amusement before heading back to his ship. The shepherd watched him go from the doorstep. When the captain disappeared around the corner, he came to help him. Simon hoped he would find medication in the crates, but he would cheer to every smile miracle that would help him keep his patients alive for a few more days. He began sorting through the contents of the crates.
"I must say I underestimated Captain Reynolds," he said to Books. "I thought he was only helping these people for the money."
"The captain is a complex man, but not a bad one. He's worried about you. I think part of the reason he took this job was to keep an eye on you. Contrary to what he would like people to believe, Captain Reynolds cares about others a lot. You have that in common."
Then Simon should apologize for doubting him.
He had an opportunity to do so the very next day. Simon had given up on sleep. The noise and the smell inside the dispensary kept him from sleep, so failing to do so, he forced himself to abandon his patients every few hours to go walk around the building. Simon was past the stage of exhaustion. His whole body begged him to let him sleep. At least, it helped to feel the sun on his face and to ease his aching muscles. It also helped keep an idea of how late it was.
On one of these excursions, in the late morning, Simon found Malcolm Reynolds eating on the bench in front of the dispensary. As a way of greeting him, the captain sends him a small box. Simon caught it only by luck. After almost thirty-six hours without sleep, his reflexes were... bad.
There was food inside the box. It didn't smell good and didn't look good either.
"Kaylee cooked to show her support. Protein concentrate, straight for the kitchen. I've got three boxes with me, but beware. It ain't for the patients. Only for you and your assistants."
Simon nodded. It was probably wise. They were all exhausted and needed something substantial to eat, even if didn't look appetizing. If they kept giving their patients their share, soon there would be no one left to help. Simon collapsed next to Reynolds and took a prudent mouthful. It fell straight to the bottom of his stomach, but it was edible.
"Please thanks Kaylee for me. Energy bars may keep a man alive, but eat ten of them and you still feel your stomach's empty."
"They do that, yes. Suppose you miss the fancy food of the Core?"
"If I knew how to shoot, I'd be ready to kill for fresh vegetables."
"Kaylee's the same with strawberries. How are your patients?"
"Same as yesterday. Not good. Worse, even. I don't know what to do anymore."
"Save the ones you can. Don't blame yourself too much for the others," Reynolds said evenly.
Simon felt the bile rise in his stomach.
"I don't know how to do that. It might be easier for a soldier, but..."
Something in the captain's eyes made him stop, but in the blink of an eye, anger replaced the haunting in his eyes. What was Simon thinking? He knew even less of the life of a soldier than Reynolds knew about the weight on a doctor's shoulder. Did he really believe a man who named his ship Serenity didn't know the weight of hundreds of ghosts?
Reynold seemed to have lost his appetite. Simon looked down, ashamed. Why wasn't he better with words?
"I mean... When I was a student in med school, I was often told losing patients became easier with time, and that you learned to accept you'll not always win against death. I imagine some doctors learned to distance themselves from death and some soldiers too, but I never learned that trick. It's even worse now when people die because the Alliance acts as if it was too troublesome to send help on the Rim."
Reynolds let out a bitter laugh.
"Yeah, they're a joyful collection of ri shao gou shi bing. And I thought a right fancy kid from Osiris like you would support unification!"
"I did then. I won't pretend otherwise. Of course, I wasn't old enough to understand all the ins and outs of the conflict."
"Some did, on our side. Want to know what happened to them?"
"I can imagine, and for what it's worth, I'm sorry. It may be easier to see the truth when someone does not live in a protected environment like I did. However, it's harder to turn a blind eye when confronted with reality."
"Inara does."
"The Companion? I suppose even traveling with you she doesn't need to confront directly the harsh truth we see here on Fiddler's Greens. Besides, I'm not saying I would support the separatists if I had lived through all this before the conflict. I cannot be sure I would like the other side better, only that if the Alliance wanted to control the Rim, they should accept the responsibilities coming with it."
A sniff came out from Reynolds' mouth, nearly a laugh. He gave Simon a little nudge in the ribs and resumed eating. Simon blinked. Apparently, he had made the apology he needed to, but he wasn't sure how. He was so bad with this. River had sighed with relief when he told her he intended to study trauma surgery.
"That's good," she'd said. "That way you'll meet your patients after they're anesthetized."
Simon agreed with all his heart. He wasn't good with social interactions.
"Have you thought about what you'll do after?"
After eating, he would need to make another triage of his patients, distribute the few remaining meds to his strongest patients, feed those who couldn't do it on their own, and clean the diapers of those who'd soiled themselves during the morning, but Simon didn't think Reynolds was talking about today.
"After what?"
"After you're done here. You ain't going back to Regina with the feds potentially waiting to snatch you up, so what are you going to do?"
Simon hadn't even thought about it. Was it bad he didn't? Truth was, forty-eight hours had happened since Reynolds told him and the problem had slipped out of his mind with the madness happening in town. And ever since River, he had trouble projecting in the future. Getting up in the morning was the hardest thing.
What else could he live for? River had been the center of his world since he had first held her in his arms, a few hours after she was born, and it was his fault she was gone. If she were here, Simon would do everything he could to protect her. He would be selfish to the point of forgetting his oath to help all patients equally, before anything else. If he had crossed paths with Serenity's crew with his sister, he would have been wary of their venality. He probably wouldn't be talking so calmly with the captain. But River was dead, not just gone, dead. He might as well be useful to as many people as possible.
"Even after the epidemic is contained, these people will need a doctor," he mused aloud. "I guess I could stay here."
"Maybe. The Alliance ain't coming to a place like that often, even less than in a place like Regina. People living in this kind of place, they're used to hiding stuff from feds. People too. Every settler has a smuggler inside him. If the government ain't giving you anythin', why give it anythin', right? And a doctor's a useful thing to hide, on the Rim. No one sells the guy who saved ten lives and could save ten more, right? Well, some people still would, but you've got more chances here than on Regina."
"Didn't you tell me not to let people know I was a doctor in Regina?"
"Yes, but that was on Regina, where someone could have seen your head on the Cortex and made a connection between the new skinny schoolteacher and the murder the Alliance's been looking for. No one looks for a skinny schoolteacher on the Cortex. Everyone knows their stories: they've been beaten up as kids and hid behind books all their childhood and still do the same when they grow up. Or maybe someone did because the feds came. I thought you were safe there, and you weren't. The bounty on your head is pretty fancy for a miner. Or a settler."
"That's… not very encouraging. Do you think someone here could still betray me, even after I helped them?"
"You'll do what you want to. And maybe they wont. They need a doctor badly. But you never know how people think, and there ain't many ways to leave a place like Fiddler's Green, especially for a man like Simon Tam."
Simon's blood froze in his veins. He had never given his full name to anyone since he started to run. He didn't want to know what they accused him of and whether his parents believed the Alliance's lies. He didn't care about learning how much the Alliance put on his failure. But Reynolds had looked at the Cortex, and he was smiling at the terror written on Simon's face, betraying him.
"Weren't you tempted yourself, captain?"
"I ain't stupid and desperate like these poor folks. Told you, knowing a doctor is priceless. The bounty is quite good, but you've got talent, and that is worth ten times your bounty. These people would be stupid if they believed otherwise."
"Even if I am a criminal?"
"You don't look like one, don't talk like one, and don't behave like one. Could be foolin' us, but I have my doubts about your actin capabilities. Must be an interestin' story you've got there. Maybe you'll tell me one day. But I'm sure of one thing. You've never killed no one, even to defend yourself, and the Alliance always exaggerates people's crimes on its wanted posters. It helps bounty hunters feel important."
Simon didn't know that. He had trusted the government and never asked himself questions. He should have.
"What would you do if you were me?"
"I'll tell you what. After you're done here, you could stay on Serenity. The Alliance's lookin' for you, but we rarely stay long enough somewhere for you to get caught. Told you, a doctor's useful. I get shot a little too often for my likin'. My people too."
"I wonder why."
"Yeah, it's because of my face, I think. People see me and they're wonderin' if I'd be prettier with a bullet inside my head. Anyway. These last few months I asked for someone to remove a bullet from somewhere inside me or Zoe four times. If you take my offer, you get your own room, your share of the profits, minus a hazard bonus for us for hiding you, and access to a real infirmary. We'll all contribute to your supplies. Most of the time, you won't get anything to do except put up with Jayne."
"It's a... very generous offer. I don't know what to say."
"You don't have to decide right away. Might leave with you, might leave without you, but we're here until the shepherd's ready to go, except if we got a job or if the situation get too bad. Now, get the rest of the food inside and go back to your patients."
Simon stood up, still a little shocked by the proposal. It was a self-interested offer, but a generous one. It wasn't often someone offered to help him these last few months, and it warmed his heart.
"Thank you, captain. For everything. You're a good man."
"I'm really not, but I have my moments. Good luck, doc."
"Simon."
"Mal."
It took Simon a few hours before he realized he'd made an offer of friendship to the captain, or accepted one. The last time he had made friends was in college. Then, he'd been too busy with work and his desperate search for River. He'd stopped all contact with his friends long before he had to flee, and none of them tried to salvage their friendship. Simon would probably decide to take his chance with Fiddler's Green people, but the idea of having a friend somewhere in the universe, even as peculiar as Mal Reynolds, was comforting. Late that night, when Simon found a few hours to curl up in a blanket in the storeroom, he fell asleep with a smile on his face. It hadn't happened in a long time.
The icy touch of a gun to his temple and a hand over his mouth woke him in the dead of night. There was just enough light outside to make out the silhouette of three armed men. Simon swallowed. He had never been so close to a weapon.
"Get up. And be quiet, or else..."
Simon wondered what his brain would like on the floor, if the noise would make Book or his assistants come, if they would shoot into the crowd, if children might be hit or see his body. He slowly nodded.
"Good. Get your stuff. Your doctorin' stuff too."
"I only have my clothes here. My medical kit is in the other room. Should I..."
For a moment, Simon believed he could stall, or maybe alert someone pretending to go for his bag, but one man handed him his bag, destroying all hope on that side. The one aiming at him with his gun pointed the weapon at the door leading directly outside. The third one pointed another gun at Simon's head.
"You scream, you die. You run, you die. You do anything suspicious, you die. Dong ma?"
The man was built like a cupboard. He didn't even need a gun to threaten Simon physically.
"I understand you."
They opened the door. It didn't creak like the day before when Simon opened the door to take the captain's crates inside. Book had helped and told him the storage room would be a good place for him to sleep undisturbed for a few hours. Someone had oiled the door with no one noticing, which meant they acted when Simon and the other were busy trying to save lives. And the men knew where his medical bag was. They came prepared.
The first two men got out. Simon heard them grunt like they were lifting something heavy. They came back, carrying a body they placed where Simon had been sleeping, and wrapped it in the blanket. If someone opened the door to the great hall, they would think Simon was still sleeping. It could go for a few hours before anyone noticed his absence.
"Get out."
"This man, he's..."
"Unconscious. Get out."
Simon wanted to check his vitals, but he didn't insist. Hoping they told the truth and the man wouldn't suffer any lasting damage, he followed. As he expected, the streets were empty. No one dared go out for fear of getting sick, which meant Simon couldn't get help, except if by chance people would bring a sick person to the dispensary and sound the alarm. It seemed unlikely, and he couldn't run away. The three men were holding him too close.
Simon tried to look at his captors. There was no light in the sky, except for a few scattered stars in a cloudy sky. The only light came from the window of the dispensary. The men were vaguely familiar, which meant he had probably examined them with the other hundred and eighty-eight inhabitants of the town. One, the tallest one, who also seemed to be the leader, was sweating.
"Move. If you stop too long, I'll kill you."
"Then I'll move, but I need a direction."
"The one where we push you."
Simon got pushed, and he moved without complaining. Besides, it wasn't hard to figure out where they were going. The three men made him cross the street to get farther away from the dispensary, then turned south, toward the cemetery. They crossed it quickly. Nobody wanted to linger in the cemetery, especially not near the mass grave where nine bodies had been buried just yesterday. Simon hadn't come to the burial, too busy trying to keep the rest of his patients alive, and because he didn't want to see the graves illustrating his failures or to remember his conversation with Mal about River. Someone put some lights on the fence to help the death find their way home, just enough for Simon to look at his captors' face. They kept pushing him toward the direction Simon knew they wanted him to go, because on the hill above the cemetery was the bulky silhouette of Serenity.
Simon climbed the hill as slowly as possible, pretending to breathe heavily and slipping on the wet path. He needed the time to think, even if he was afraid of giving the impression he was stalling. His captors didn't berate him for his pretended clumsiness. He must look even more exhausted than he felt. Besides, he wasn't the only one who found the climb tiring. The leader had trouble breathing and needed to clear his throat here and then.
Even with Simon's stalling, the walk to the firefly didn't take over ten minutes. Simon sighed with relief when he saw the door closed.
"Ta ma de! You, open it!"
"I fear they did not give me the key. After all, I am just a passenger."
The leader grabbed him from behind and pinned Simon against him before putting his gun to his temple. The second time wasn't more pleasant than the first. Simon noticed the man's foul breath and tried to hold back his disgust.
"All right. They'll still get out. I know guys with a ship like that. They don't do legal jobs and they always keep a man on guard in the pilot's seat. You too! Tell them we want to see the captain!"
The two men fired twice in the air. The noise echoed all around them.
"And now?"
"Now we wait. It'll take them a few minutes to react. We'll keep an eye on that one."
"Like a wimp like that could do anything! Guys with hands like that know all kinds of fancy words, but they're just wimps."
Simon tried not to take offense and refrained from a sarcastic retort. He didn't want to make them mad at him and put himself in danger, not unnecessarily, not without the captain or someone else to back him up. These men might call him a coward, but Simon didn't mind the epithet. Better to be alive than a corpse. For now, looking like a dandy from the Core who wouldn't handle himself could save his life. Simon could only hope he'd be able to prove them wrong if necessary, but he doubted he could.
There must have been someone on the bridge because just seconds after the gunshots, lights went on both sides of the hangar door. Simon knew they were also cameras. Nothing more happened for the next few minutes. The waiting was painful for Simon, who had to stay on his tiptoes, pressed against one of his captors to the point he had trouble breathing. He was shivering. His thin shirt and vest were insufficient against the night's chill.
But, strangely, Simon felt less afraid than what he would have thought. He was afraid, but not to the point he couldn't think and analyze the situation. I helped to imagine what was happening inside the firefly. If Zoe or Mal were on guard, they'd have immediately left their post to alert the rest of the crew. Wash would do the same, even if he resented Simon for his behavior when Zoe got hurt. If it was Jayne, Simon's chances were not as good. The man could be still sitting in his chair, enjoying Simon's discomfort.
Better to be optimistic in circumstances like that. The person up there had seen the situation, and waited to make sure how much danger Simon was in and if other men were hiding in the shadows. Then, they'd gone to wake the crew. Everyone dressed quickly, asking what the situation was. Presently, they must be meeting in the cargo hold to decide on a strategy. There were bound to be conflicting opinions which further delayed the door opening, but the door would open, eventually. As Mal had said, they would not leave without the preacher, and Simon was too valuable to die.
Still, when the door opened, he almost cried with relief.
Malcolm Reynolds appeared, his pistol already pointed toward them. Malcolm Reynolds appeared, his pistol already pointed toward them. Crates were organized like a barricade behind and beside him. Simon saw a metallic glint behind one of them. Zoe, or Jayne.
"Better explain to me what's going on. Me and my crew, we can be trigger-happy when woken up in the middle of the night. Nothing against you, but I ain't a patient man."
"No need to get mad, captain. Me and the guy, we don't want much."
"Don't want much, but you still show with a prisoner and guns in the middle of the night in front of the only ship around."
So Mal had also figured out what these three were up to. Unfortunately, unlike Simon, he didn't have all the keys to understand the situation.
"The doc's just there as in-surance. Everything goes well, nothing happens to him, but if something moves or makes noise behind these crates, I'll shoot him. Dong ma?"
Simon could see in his eyes Mal was going to lower his weapon. He tried to meet his eyes, but Mal didn't take his eyes off his opponent. He was falling into the trap. Praying he read the situation correctly because otherwise he would die, Simon shouted as loud as he could.
"No, he's not going to kill me! And you're going to refuse his offer, captain!"
Behind him, the man froze. Simon smiled smugly, even if he couldn't see him. Even the scarred dandy could think.
After a moment's hesitation, Mal cursed, tightened his grip on his weapon, and continued to aim at the man holding Simon. The chances of taking him down without hitting Simon were dramatically low, but Mal seemed to be confident in his chances. Simon hoped it was more than a posture. The captain clicked his tongue. Zoe and Jayne showed themselves. Each one was aiming at one of the other men. Simon wished he knew if the other two could shoot and if they were hiding somewhere, ready to jump into action. It would help their chances.
Behind him, the leader's grip on Simon tightened again. Simon didn't know which was worse, the man's abominable breath or the air leaving his chest, but the gun on his temple was far behind. He'd been right. They wouldn't kill him.
"Looks like I was right, doc," Mal said. "Even in this godforsaken place, someone heard of your bounty."
"There's a bounty? You didn't tell us about a bounty, Burn!"
Simon winced. Mal hadn't read the situation at all. At least he looked to be regretful to let out Simon's secret.
"A bounty, huh?", Burn said. "Looks like we're killing two birds with one stone, then. I know guys like you, captain. You were going to take our money and then deliver the boy to the feds, right, captain? So here's what I propose. You take us on your ship, we head to the nearest fed and slip the reward. Fair, right?"
His two cronies nodded enthusiastically.
"And if I refuse, you'll take my ship by force?"
"Can't blame a man to try his chances, can you? So, we're good?"
Mal kept his crew safe. He was going to say yes, lower his gun, and let them board. He may even tell Wash to take off to put them at ease, before shooting them in the back. Simon couldn't let him do that, and not just because Burn must think the same and it would be too much risk.
"I'd really prefer you didn't say yes, Mal! Shoot them!"
Burn pulled his gun away from Simon's temple to strangle him.
"Ta ma de! Will you shut up?"
Simon wouldn't get another chance. He threw his head back violently. The sound Burn's nose made when it broke gave him a vicious pleasure. The hand on his throat released its grip. Simon pulled free but fell to the waterlogged ground.
"He's sick!" he shouted as he got up. "He's got all the symptoms, the shivers, the sweat, the coughing... His friends may have them too! Don't let them come close!"
Burn grabbed him by the collar and turned him around. He punched him twice, once in the face, once in the stomach. Simon fell back to the ground, gasping for hair. He heard gunshots, two, and then three others. Before he could recover or look at what was happening around him, Burn lifted him by his shirt to use him as a human shield. Simon struggled, but couldn't get the upper hand. One of Burn's accomplices attempted to join them, but a shot from the ship hit him. He felt down and did not get up.
"You're going to pay for this, doc," Burn spat, forcing him to back away toward a rock. He wanted a better cover than a skinny doctor. "You just had to obey."
"What can I tell? I always liked to make myself useful to others. Sadly for you, I didn't like you."
No one could say he stopped being sarcastic in his last hour. Dying seeing Burn's face and feeling his mephitic breath was hard enough. Serenity's lights suddenly went out, to save the crew from making too easy targets, but making Burn himself much harder to spot.
"It's over, Burn, let the doc go!" Mal shouted.
"Come and get him!"
"Not a problem," Book said from behind them.
Hearing the compassionate voice of the shepherd getting so hard, Simon instinctively closed his eyes. He heard a bullet fired almost point-blank. A body felt and a warm liquid bounced on his shirt and cheek. He wiped it away with a trembling hand, sat down on a large stone, and took a deep breath.
He opened his eyes to see Book picking up Burn's weapon from his cold hand and Mal and Zoe running toward them. Mal put a hand on his shoulder.
"Are you all right, Simon?"
Simon laughed. His nerves couldn't take it any longer.
"I don't want to die!"
It was a revelation. Simon didn't want to die. He had lost everything, his job, his family, his sister, and his self-esteem, but when he thought he was going to get killed, he realized he didn't want to die. He laughed again, unsure how to convey his thoughts to the other, but when he met their eyes, he saw he didn't need to. In their eyes, he read the same pain he saw every time he stood in front of a mirror. How could he have missed it until now? Simon knew why. His self-hatred and self-pity kept him from seeing the suffering of others. He offered them a small smile. The captain returned it.
"I think I'm going to be okay," Simon said after a moment. "Anyone hurt on your side?"
"I think I got shot," Mal said. "Like I said, everyone like to shoot me. It hurts like hell, but it can't be too bad. Jayne was looting the other bodies when we left him, so he must be all right."
So all three men were dead. Simon couldn't bring himself to regret that, not after they learned he was a wanted man.
"What happened?" Book asked. "I ran when I heard the gunshots."
"They wanted to take Serenity and run away from the disease. I recognized their leader, Burn, but too late. He brought his sister to us two days ago. She was very sick. He said he was fine, but he probably lied. What did he think, leaving his sister and running away? It wouldn't have stopped the progression of the sickness. He would have just spread it elsewhere."
Mal shrugged.
"Not everyone reacts rationally when there's an epidemic. Some people refuse to see the truth."
"Anyway, we reacted the right way, doc," Zoe said. "These báichī can't contaminate us now."
"Good. Good. Then, as soon as my legs are able to support me, I'll help with your wounds, then go back to the clinic. And, Mal? I think I'll accept your offer if it still stands."
"Shiny."
Even if Burn and his friends did not represent the local population, Simon couldn't see himself staying any longer. He had already settled on a planet twice. After this, he didn't think a third tentative would go better. No, he was ready to try his luck in space. He could imagine worse.