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Today at dinner, Simon was subdued. Perfectly friendly, and everybody has moods, but -- quiet.

River watched him, out of the corner of her eye and in quick startled glances, and didn't laugh along at the mealtime banter. Most of the crew didn't notice; it's River, after all.

Today it's River's job to clear the dishes. She's distracted, even by her usual standards, and Inara has to gently steer her back to focus several times. (River's well enough these days to take on a carefully selected share of the crew chores, but everyone feels -- wisely -- that most of these are best done with someone else supervising.) Inara finally takes over the last of the silverware, and River slips out of the kitchen with her hands still damp.

She's not so distracted, now.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

From:

simon_doctor

"Yes," he whispers, and can't say any more.

"I never tried writing back to her," he says, looking directly at River, "and now it's too late."

Blink and his gaze is still downward and distant, and he hasn't said a word.

From:

river_meimei

"I remember," River says, low.

(there shall I sing)

Her hands close on the edge of the chair, and spread again: close and splay, fretful.

From:

simon_doctor

"There's going to be a memorial service," he says after a long moment. "I think I need to go."

From:

river_meimei

River nods, a little. Another lock of hair, which had been precariously tucked behind an ear, slips free to swing alongside one cheek.

Softly, "You can."

From:

simon_doctor

He nods.

Looks down at the little box of vials of local anaesthetic, still in his hands.

From:

river_meimei

Silence.

River slips off the chair in one motion, soundless except for the rustle of cloth. She moves carefully, one tile for each barefooted step, across the infirmary to Simon.

Silently, she leans a shoulder against her brother's upper arm, and rests her cheek against his shoulder.

From:

simon_doctor

The ache that rises in his throat isn't unexpected at all, but it's still all he can do to swallow it down.

Simon lets out a long breath, and holds out his hand to River, palm up.

From:

river_meimei

"She'll remember," River whispers to his empty hand, those deft surgeon's fingers and the palm open in supplication. "Too."

"She did."

From:

simon_doctor

These moments are rarer now than the used to be; the times when he has no idea at all what River means.

Somehow it's comforting anyway, just knowing that she means to comfort.

From:

river_meimei

"Time for a break," River whispers again, almost as if to herself.

She lifts her hand to his, delicate and almost hesitant, and her slim fingers brush against her brother's palm. She breathes out in a long sigh, and her eyes close. She looks old and young all at once, and weary, or she would if anyone were at the right angle to see; Simon probably isn't, with her head still leaning against his shoulder. Softly, "Gonna be okay, gē ge."