Not mine. Wish they were.

---------------------------

Simon sat on the couch in the passenger lounge. He’d been there ever since Serenity had lifted off of St. Alban’s, after the funeral. River had absently brought him a pillow and blanket and muttered something about sinking into the ship before heading off to bed. The soft parcels lay on the edge of the sofa, barely touched.

The doctor had been jealous of Tracey. It was hard to admit, even to himself, but he had been. Ever since he’d tried to steal into the engine room to apologize to Kaylee, all Simon could hear was the recording being played over and over as the mechanic listened intently. The knowledge that the same man who made the recording had threatened Kaylee’s life made Simon’s blood thicken just a little.

I did the same thing. A pair of slightly worn hands held Simon’s face upright, shielding him from the slivers of light that poked through the darkness that cycled around him. I used her to further my own ends.

Simon recalled that horrible day. The argument with Mal. The horror and helplessness he’d felt after being discovered. The sound of the bullet being fired and landing right into a sweet girl’s abdomen on account of him.

I made the captain turn and run. I threatened Kaylee’s life to get him to do it.

He heaved a deep breath. Later on, after the affair had been settled, he was amazed he hadn’t been spaced. Or shot himself. He remembered Kaylee telling him that it had been no one’s fault, but it wasn’t something Simon was ready to believe all that easily.

And then Tracey does the same gorram thing. Uses her as leverage.

It was hard for Simon not to want to dig the man out of his grave and punch him, or at least curse him awhile. The truth was, Simon had been just as capable of finishing Kaylee the very day he met her as well.

The only difference is, I didn’t.

But could I have?

That idea settled uncomfortably with the young man a long time. Simon w