It’s Joss’s ‘verse; I just borrow it....

___________________________________________

Inara pressed her warm face against the cool infirmary door. From her position in the door frame, she watched Simon work. He moved with his sister’s grace in this room, feet dancing over the floor as he acted as needed, clear-headed and competent, never hesitating here. He jumped when he saw her standing in the doorway.

“Lao-tyen.” He took a breath. “Shuh muh. I’m sorry.”

“And Kaylee said you never swear, doctor.” She smiled but it was forced. Even though he was exhausted, legs aching and fingers cramping from hours of surgery, Simon could see the red streaks in her eyes: the ones she tried to hide behind thick dark hair that waved halfway down her back. Usually she was flawless, a heady male fantasy materialized in flowing gowns and shining jewels. Today her dress was blood-stained, crimson marks she hadn’t bothered to wash out, memories from earlier when they’d carried the captain on ship.

“Sorry,” he said again, but she wasn’t listening. She’d drifted over to Mal, who lay sleeping on the table.

“How is he?” She stared down at him, careful not to touch. He looked unnaturally peaceful, childishly innocent. How odd that the end result of hours of torture would be this: the restless captain finally resting, dreaming morphine dreams while the doctor did his work.

“He’s…well.” Simon appeared at her side, adjusting a tube in Mal’s arm. “Amazingly well, considering….” Considering what that monster had done to him. But Simon left the last part unsaid.

“So no permanent damage?” She watched his chest inflate and sink, soothed.

“Everything seems to be in tact. And I gave him a pretty thorough examination while he was out.”

“Perhaps you should refrain from mentioning that when he wakes up, doctor. Mal’s…well, Mal. Vulnerability’s not his strong suit.”

“I’ve noticed. Anyway, he’ll be sore for a week or two. Bruises, dehydration—I’m giving him intravenous for that, plus something to e