river_meimei | (no subject)

(no subject)

River's in the hallway between her room and Simon (and Kaylee)'s, stretched out on her stomach. She's examining a physics magazine: from Milliways, apparently, to judge by the glossy pages and the fact that the crew hasn't seen a mail drop or market in a little while; usually, if River gets a magazine or book there, she devours it the same day.

Her only concession to being in the way of traffic is that she's settled up against her own wall, instead of lying right in the middle of the floor.

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"Astrophysics," he says, smiling a little.

"That's the claim."

River, apparently, is not sure she wants to grant this article the title.

"Want to talk instead of read, for a while?"

It's lightly asked, but his face is serious.

River, after another moment or two, turns over just enough to glance at him.

He tilts his head at the door to her room, and holds out a hand to her; after a moment she sighs, and rises to her feet to walk with him into the room, still carrying the magazine.

Simon perches on the edge of her bed, hands resting on the coverlet at his sides.

River, eyeing him slightly, settles at the head of the bed, legs folded tidily under her.

"Kaylee says the two of you had a fight," he says quietly.

River's face tightens into mulish lines, and she looks away.

"River, I need you to talk to me."

It's said firmly.

She's probably the only person in all the worlds who could hear the undertones of pleading.

River's jaw tightens further, just for a moment.

And then she breathes out, and her shoulders slump slightly.

Because she can hear it, and because, in the end, it's Simon.

"Hurt you."

Simon nods. "Yes," he says steadily. "She did."

Except he hasn't said anything yet; he's waiting to see if she'll continue.

She doesn't, for a minute.

And then, "Won't listen. Won't ask."

"Nobody's on the pedestal."

She's not looking at Simon; she's glowering at the wall, her head turned away from him.

"Is that what you said to her?"

Gentle, and level.

River doesn't answer.

Sullenly.

Because she's helpful that way.

"River."

It's all he says.

"Didn't listen."

"What did you say?"

"She thinks there's sides. Thinks I butt in. Thinks she wants to move the puppets."

River's voice is flat, and faintly bitter.

"Nobody's listening."

Simon lets out a long breath, and rubs his forehead with one hand.

"She was angry," he says finally. "And I told her I'd talk to you."

"I know it."

Softer.

She hasn't looked back at her brother.

"I know you want to help. I know you're angry too."

He looks ... weary.

River is silent for several breaths.

Then, very low, "Everybody's hurting."

"You are."

"Yes."

Steady, with an effort.

"And I need you to not get involved, at this point."

River stiffens slightly.

And then she spins, abrupt enough for her hair to lift from her flushed cheeks. "Think she's not?" It's a question; it's a demand, and her eyes are hot and damp.

"Not about me."

"Who is it about, then?"

He has to stay calm.

He has to.

River's shoulders slump, slowly.

"Everybody," she says in the general direction of his knee.

"You're hurting. Simon. I know it. Every day."

"But trying to defend me ..."

He looks down at his hands, twining together.

"It isn't going to help." Quietly. "I'm sorry, meimei."

"I want to."

"I know."

"Can't help," she whispers, eyes closed now and head bowed.

"I try, and, and I can't."

And that cry goes right through him, a sharp ache that's

(know the kind of pain you're dealing with)

all too familiar.

"Not that way. I'm sorry."

River's face twists, half-hidden by unruly hair.

Slowly, slowly, and without looking up, she leans sideways against her brother.

He lifts his arm, settles it around her shoulders.

Neither of them says anything, for a moment.

"I'm sorry."

"It's all right."

And they're the wrong words, but they're the only ones there are.

It isn't. Not really.

But River doesn't say that.

Just turns her head a little more into her brother's shoulder, and breathes out slowly.

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