(no subject)
TITLE: Supposed
RATING: PG. Angst. Angst angst angst. Language of the Firefly variety. Angst. Blood. Did I mention angst?
DISCLAIMER: Not mine.
ARCHIVE: Just ask.
SUMMARY: It’s not supposed to be like this.
SPOILERS: The pilot episode.
PAIRINGS: Simon/Kaylee
AUTHOR’S NOTES: Written for Laura/jade422 as part of the SpaceSanta project. Her request: "please have it involve the Simon/Kaylee ship even if both characters aren't in it. have it be angsty(as I'm already getting a happy fic for the holidays in a fluffy happy ficathon)" Hope this suits, doll.
======
It’s not supposed to be like this.
You’re not supposed to meet someone and immediately feel like you’ve known them your whole life, but within five minutes of meeting the pretty young barker he felt like they were old friends, like he could tell her anything and she would understand.
You’re not supposed to meet someone and immediately feel like you know exactly who they are and what the world is to them, but within five minutes of meeting the charming mechanic he knew she was a bright, cheerful, shiny person to whom the world should never, ever be cruel.
You’re not supposed to meet someone you might could fall in love with and then watch them die in front of your eyes because of your own clumsiness, but within five minutes happy-go-lucky Kaylee Frye may very well be dead and it’ll be Simon Tam’s fault.
“Lie back,” he tells her, and is amazed by how steady his voice is. “How do you feel?”
Her eyes aren’t quite focusing on him. “A little odd. Why’d he…?”
His chest tightens and he tears open Kaylee’s jumpsuit.
It’s ludicrous. Not two hours ago she was flirting with him and he was trying not to imagine what was under this jumpsuit, and now all he can think about is how ugly the wound is, and how painful it’s going to be for her if he can’t fix it.
“Well, that ain’t hardly a mosquito bite,” the captain says, but his voice and his face don’t agree with his words.
“Big…mosquito…” she manages to get out, her voice breathy and her face distant and Simon’s panic shoots up a little more.
“Can you move your feet?” he asks her. And when she doesn’t answer he gets desperate. “Kaylee! Stay with me. Stay with me…Can you move your feet?”
She smiles at him and wheezes out, “Are you…asking me to dance?”
Shot, on the verge of death, and she still manages to flirt with him, and he wants to cry. He wants to save her and he wants to give up and he wants this to be over.
And then her eyes roll back in her head.
“She’s going into shock,” he says brusquely, and is again astonished by himself, by how clinical he manages to sound while inside it feels like his whole ’verse is falling apart. Inara says something to her but he can’t listen, he can’t divert his attention like that-instead, he pushes on the wound, trying to stop the bleeding.
And she screams, and the sound tears through him like nothing ever has, but he can’t even divert his attention to that now. “The infirmary working?” he asks the captain, who says they’ve got it stocked. He nods and they both move to pick Kaylee up, to carry her to the infirmary, where Simon will fix her, because failure is not an option.
“Captain,” a voice blazes over the com, the pilot? “We’ve been hailed by a Cruiser. Ordered to stay on course and dock for prisoner transfer.”
Simon’s brain suddenly clears.
He looks at the captain, who looks back at him, his intentions very clear on his face.
Without even thinking about, completely unsure what the hell he’s doing, he stands up and backs away from Kaylee’s prone form.
“Change course,” he says calmly. “Run.”
“Hell with you. You brought this down on us, I’m dumping you with the law.”
“Mal…”
“She’s dying,” Simon says matter-of-factly, not letting the words hurt him as much as they want to, not letting himself fall apart at the thought of cheerful, sunny, beautiful Kaylee dying because of him.
“You’re not gonna let her,” the captain growls.
“Yes. I am.”
“No. You can’t.”
He stares at his helpless patient and tries to harden his heart. He can’t let River fall back into Alliance hands.
Even if it costs him Kaylee.
“No way the Feds’ll let us walk,” the first officer says.
“Then we dump him in the shuttle and leave him for them,” the captain counters.
“Everybody’s so mad…” Kaylee mumbles, and his heart feels like it’s breaking.
God, don’t let this cost me Kaylee.
“Do you know what a stomach wound does to a person?” And while he says it, he pictures it, pictures Kaylee’s slow, painful death, and he wants to cry, but he can’t show weakness, not now.
“I surely do.”
“Then you know how crucial the next few minutes are.”
“You let her die, you’ll never make it to the Feds.”
“She’ll still be dead.”
She’ll still be dead and there won’t be any Kaylee anymore and the ’verse will be a much darker, less shiny place and she’ll still be dead so for the love of God, Reynolds, turn this ship around and run.
“You rich kids,” Mal says coldly. “You think your lives are the only thing that matters. What’d you do? Kill your folks for the family fortune?”
“I don’t kill people.” But, gorram, he’s tempted now. Tempted to kill this captain here, because every moment of his stubbornness is bringing Kaylee a little closer to death, and it wasn’t supposed to be this way.
“Then do your job!”
“Turn the ship around!” How can he be so blind? How can he not see that it’s killing Simon every bit as much as it’s killing Kaylee? How can he not love Kaylee enough to turn and run?
“Enough!” Inara cries. “Mal, do it!”
At least somebody on this ship is as desperate as he is.
“Don’t you ever tell me what to do on my-!”
And Kaylee cries out in pain and Simon’s heart feels like it’s being shattered into a million pieces but he can’t give in, he can’t turn River over to them, but he can’t let Kaylee die either.
And after far too long a pause, Reynolds tells his first officer to change course.
*
It’s not supposed to be like this.
When you spend hours in surgery giving your all to a patient, she’s supposed to get better.
When you’re the best young doctor to come out of Osiris in years, in decades, and when you do all you possibly can do to save your patient, she’s saved.
Her captain doesn’t stand in front of you with no expression on his face and no inflection in his voice and tell you that she’s dead.
“Kaylee’s dead.”
It takes a long time for Simon to process those three little syllables.
Kaylee’s dead.
Kaylee’s dead.
Kaylee’s dead.
For a long time he can’t feel anything but devastated. He can’t breathe and he can’t think, except for those three little syllables.
Kaylee’s dead.
Kaylee’s dead.
Kaylee’s dead.
And then he breaks and he runs, leaving Reynolds behind, because he can’t take it. And he’s not sure what he’s going to do, he’s never exactly been the cry over a corpse type, but he at least needs to see her, one last time, and so he runs to the infirmary. His mind is an incoherent jumble of thoughts, and he just keeps praying that somehow, someway, Reynolds is wrong, Reynolds is mistaken, Kaylee is fine.
When you’re the best young doctor to come out of Osiris in a century who just heroically saved his little sister from the bad guys, the patient that you might have already fallen in love with is supposed to be fine.
She’s supposed to sit up in her bed and flash you that cheerful, happy, shiny, Kaylee smile, and swear that it doesn’t hurt one bit, and call you her hero in a voice that you can’t tell if she’s teasing or flirting.
She’s not supposed to die.
It’s not supposed to be like this.
And then Simon sees her.
“That man is psychotic,” he mutters, but even his fury at Reynolds for screwing with his head like that can’t overcome the pure joyous relief at seeing her sitting up and fine.
And he wonders if he’ll ever be able to tell her.
RATING: PG. Angst. Angst angst angst. Language of the Firefly variety. Angst. Blood. Did I mention angst?
DISCLAIMER: Not mine.
ARCHIVE: Just ask.
SUMMARY: It’s not supposed to be like this.
SPOILERS: The pilot episode.
PAIRINGS: Simon/Kaylee
AUTHOR’S NOTES: Written for Laura/jade422 as part of the SpaceSanta project. Her request: "please have it involve the Simon/Kaylee ship even if both characters aren't in it. have it be angsty(as I'm already getting a happy fic for the holidays in a fluffy happy ficathon)" Hope this suits, doll.
======
It’s not supposed to be like this.
You’re not supposed to meet someone and immediately feel like you’ve known them your whole life, but within five minutes of meeting the pretty young barker he felt like they were old friends, like he could tell her anything and she would understand.
You’re not supposed to meet someone and immediately feel like you know exactly who they are and what the world is to them, but within five minutes of meeting the charming mechanic he knew she was a bright, cheerful, shiny person to whom the world should never, ever be cruel.
You’re not supposed to meet someone you might could fall in love with and then watch them die in front of your eyes because of your own clumsiness, but within five minutes happy-go-lucky Kaylee Frye may very well be dead and it’ll be Simon Tam’s fault.
“Lie back,” he tells her, and is amazed by how steady his voice is. “How do you feel?”
Her eyes aren’t quite focusing on him. “A little odd. Why’d he…?”
His chest tightens and he tears open Kaylee’s jumpsuit.
It’s ludicrous. Not two hours ago she was flirting with him and he was trying not to imagine what was under this jumpsuit, and now all he can think about is how ugly the wound is, and how painful it’s going to be for her if he can’t fix it.
“Well, that ain’t hardly a mosquito bite,” the captain says, but his voice and his face don’t agree with his words.
“Big…mosquito…” she manages to get out, her voice breathy and her face distant and Simon’s panic shoots up a little more.
“Can you move your feet?” he asks her. And when she doesn’t answer he gets desperate. “Kaylee! Stay with me. Stay with me…Can you move your feet?”
She smiles at him and wheezes out, “Are you…asking me to dance?”
Shot, on the verge of death, and she still manages to flirt with him, and he wants to cry. He wants to save her and he wants to give up and he wants this to be over.
And then her eyes roll back in her head.
“She’s going into shock,” he says brusquely, and is again astonished by himself, by how clinical he manages to sound while inside it feels like his whole ’verse is falling apart. Inara says something to her but he can’t listen, he can’t divert his attention like that-instead, he pushes on the wound, trying to stop the bleeding.
And she screams, and the sound tears through him like nothing ever has, but he can’t even divert his attention to that now. “The infirmary working?” he asks the captain, who says they’ve got it stocked. He nods and they both move to pick Kaylee up, to carry her to the infirmary, where Simon will fix her, because failure is not an option.
“Captain,” a voice blazes over the com, the pilot? “We’ve been hailed by a Cruiser. Ordered to stay on course and dock for prisoner transfer.”
Simon’s brain suddenly clears.
He looks at the captain, who looks back at him, his intentions very clear on his face.
Without even thinking about, completely unsure what the hell he’s doing, he stands up and backs away from Kaylee’s prone form.
“Change course,” he says calmly. “Run.”
“Hell with you. You brought this down on us, I’m dumping you with the law.”
“Mal…”
“She’s dying,” Simon says matter-of-factly, not letting the words hurt him as much as they want to, not letting himself fall apart at the thought of cheerful, sunny, beautiful Kaylee dying because of him.
“You’re not gonna let her,” the captain growls.
“Yes. I am.”
“No. You can’t.”
He stares at his helpless patient and tries to harden his heart. He can’t let River fall back into Alliance hands.
Even if it costs him Kaylee.
“No way the Feds’ll let us walk,” the first officer says.
“Then we dump him in the shuttle and leave him for them,” the captain counters.
“Everybody’s so mad…” Kaylee mumbles, and his heart feels like it’s breaking.
God, don’t let this cost me Kaylee.
“Do you know what a stomach wound does to a person?” And while he says it, he pictures it, pictures Kaylee’s slow, painful death, and he wants to cry, but he can’t show weakness, not now.
“I surely do.”
“Then you know how crucial the next few minutes are.”
“You let her die, you’ll never make it to the Feds.”
“She’ll still be dead.”
She’ll still be dead and there won’t be any Kaylee anymore and the ’verse will be a much darker, less shiny place and she’ll still be dead so for the love of God, Reynolds, turn this ship around and run.
“You rich kids,” Mal says coldly. “You think your lives are the only thing that matters. What’d you do? Kill your folks for the family fortune?”
“I don’t kill people.” But, gorram, he’s tempted now. Tempted to kill this captain here, because every moment of his stubbornness is bringing Kaylee a little closer to death, and it wasn’t supposed to be this way.
“Then do your job!”
“Turn the ship around!” How can he be so blind? How can he not see that it’s killing Simon every bit as much as it’s killing Kaylee? How can he not love Kaylee enough to turn and run?
“Enough!” Inara cries. “Mal, do it!”
At least somebody on this ship is as desperate as he is.
“Don’t you ever tell me what to do on my-!”
And Kaylee cries out in pain and Simon’s heart feels like it’s being shattered into a million pieces but he can’t give in, he can’t turn River over to them, but he can’t let Kaylee die either.
And after far too long a pause, Reynolds tells his first officer to change course.
*
It’s not supposed to be like this.
When you spend hours in surgery giving your all to a patient, she’s supposed to get better.
When you’re the best young doctor to come out of Osiris in years, in decades, and when you do all you possibly can do to save your patient, she’s saved.
Her captain doesn’t stand in front of you with no expression on his face and no inflection in his voice and tell you that she’s dead.
“Kaylee’s dead.”
It takes a long time for Simon to process those three little syllables.
Kaylee’s dead.
Kaylee’s dead.
Kaylee’s dead.
For a long time he can’t feel anything but devastated. He can’t breathe and he can’t think, except for those three little syllables.
Kaylee’s dead.
Kaylee’s dead.
Kaylee’s dead.
And then he breaks and he runs, leaving Reynolds behind, because he can’t take it. And he’s not sure what he’s going to do, he’s never exactly been the cry over a corpse type, but he at least needs to see her, one last time, and so he runs to the infirmary. His mind is an incoherent jumble of thoughts, and he just keeps praying that somehow, someway, Reynolds is wrong, Reynolds is mistaken, Kaylee is fine.
When you’re the best young doctor to come out of Osiris in a century who just heroically saved his little sister from the bad guys, the patient that you might have already fallen in love with is supposed to be fine.
She’s supposed to sit up in her bed and flash you that cheerful, happy, shiny, Kaylee smile, and swear that it doesn’t hurt one bit, and call you her hero in a voice that you can’t tell if she’s teasing or flirting.
She’s not supposed to die.
It’s not supposed to be like this.
And then Simon sees her.
“That man is psychotic,” he mutters, but even his fury at Reynolds for screwing with his head like that can’t overcome the pure joyous relief at seeing her sitting up and fine.
And he wonders if he’ll ever be able to tell her.