(no subject)

[river_meimei]

It's late evening at Milliways. The sky is purple and indigo; not yet black, but the stars are out, and the last streaks of sunset are fading down the horizon.

A warm fall night. One of the last of the year, maybe.

Simon Tam is walking along the long rolling lawn above the lake, hands in his pockets.

He has been for a while. But now there's a shorter slimmer figure crossing the grass at an angle towards him. She's aiming to intercept, and, from the look of that approach, to join him.

Comments

[simon_doctor]

Simon doesn't see her right away; he's studying the patterns of dimming light and color reflected on the surface of the water.

He's not thinking of much of anything, at the moment.

[river_meimei]

River doesn't call out to him.

But she does study him, silent and solemn in the twilight, and keep moving towards her brother. At this rate it'll only be a minute or so before she's at his side.

[simon_doctor]

She's not making much noise, in the open space.

It's hard to say what makes him turn to glance in her direction.

[river_meimei]

When he does, after a few seconds of River's silent dark-eyed gaze, he gets a half-smile.

It's automatic, and too quick and too brief -- this is River's indifferent skill with social cues, at least as much as any current emotion -- and faintly wry, and it doesn't quite reach her eyes.

But he's Simon, so he gets one anyway.

[simon_doctor]

Hands still in his pockets, he starts toward her over the grass.

"Wan an, meimei," he says, once within speaking distance.

[river_meimei]

"It's in the breeze," River says, like an answer.

[simon_doctor]

"What is?"

He takes one hand from his pocket, reaches out for her hand.

[river_meimei]

River's hand curls automatically around her brother's. It's a second before she answers; then, "Night," she says, glancing at Simon.

She says it as if she's saying the obvious.

[simon_doctor]

"Oh." A beat. "Of course."

He presses her hand, half-consciously.

[river_meimei]

Well, DUH, says River's face, but he's surprised a quick small smile out of her -- the kind that says River's not quite sure what the joke is, but she's game to go along with it anyway.

[simon_doctor]

Simon looks back at the lake.

"Walk with me?" he asks, soft.

[river_meimei]

River's fingers shift slightly against his, as much exploration as handclasp. "I am."

It's a yes.

[simon_doctor]

Technically, at the moment they're standing rather than walking.

He tugs gently in the direction of the shore, and they're moving again, albeit more slowly.

"I need to ask you," he says; except his mouth hasn't moved.

[river_meimei]

River casts a swift look up at him.

(His mouth didn't move.)

[simon_doctor]

The embers of the sunset are fading out, and the stars flickering in; the grass is thinning into gravel at the lake's edge.

Very soft: "River?"

[river_meimei]

Her gaze had wandered away, across dark grass and glimmering indigo-and-silver lake.

It's back now, fixed on Simon's face.

[simon_doctor]

"Have you thought about it?"

[river_meimei]

River hesitates -- and then nods, a little.

[simon_doctor]

His thumb moves over the back of her hand.

No louder: "You'll need to decide soon, meimei."

[river_meimei]

River's shoulders are a little hunched; she stares at the ground as they take another few steps, and everything about her posture is tight and miserable.




"Simon," she tries, and stops there.

[simon_doctor]

"I know," he whispers. "I'm sorry."

[river_meimei]

"I don't want to go away," River whispers, her voice twisting upwards into a tear-clogged waver, and on the last word she turns into him, stopping them abruptly by burying her face in Simon's shoulder. One hand is curled tight around his; the other arm wraps around her torso, pressing close.

[simon_doctor]

"River --"

He turns in toward her, wrapping his free arm around her shoulders.

"River, shhh. It's okay."

[river_meimei]

River shakes her head against his shoulder, a small stubborn movement.

Her free hand snakes up, after a moment, to fist in a loose fold of his shirt.

[simon_doctor]

"I know you don't want to go."

[river_meimei]

"You do."

[simon_doctor]

He's silent.

[river_meimei]

"Simon," she whispers into his shirt, choked and scarcely audible. "I don't want to."

[simon_doctor]

"You don't have to."

There's an ache somewhere under his ribs.

"Meimei, it's okay, you don't have to."

[river_meimei]

"Nobody's okay -- Simon, he's, he's leaving, and captain's hurting and Kaylee, and everybody's tangled--"

[simon_doctor]

The ache sharpens.

"I know," helplessly, "I know."

[river_meimei]

"You're going away," River whispers, and there's a wet patch on Simon's shirt now, as she twists her head to bury her face more in the side of his neck.

[simon_doctor]

"I'll be back," he murmurs, trying to make it sound reassuring instead of protesting. "I'll see you here at the bar. All the time."

[river_meimei]

River nods.

But she doesn't say anything more, and she doesn't pull away at all. And her breathing is still the quick, harsh pants of someone trying to cry silently.

[simon_doctor]

There's nothing else he can think to say.

He tries to swallow the pain in his throat, and strokes River's hair, trying to provide at least somatic comfort.

[river_meimei]

There's nothing much to say.

There's only this -- each other, and the night, and holding on tight against the truth they both know.

(And the worst part, or the best, is that it does help. Being together always has.)