The Things I'd Do...

Clarity Scifiroots
Disclaimers apply, as per usual.
HUGE SPOILERS for the BDM (Hell, even the spoiler's rather spoiler-y ;;UU)
Summary: Simon ponders his regrets as he struggles to hang on after getting shot.
For eldritchhobbit and the "hurt" request
Fourth day of June!fic
Edited July 18, 2006


Son of a bitch! It hurt like hell, worse than any of the punches Mal had thrown his way or the beatings he'd undergone when unable to take cover during one of the crew's jobs. It hurt far worse than the bullet in his thigh that he had to guide Zoe to take out. Was this what it felt like to die? His blood covered Inara's hands and up her arms; the pretty Companion looked like she'd been in the ER doing surgery. He wished he could say something to her, tell her she was doing the best she could and that was alright. He needed to tell her it was okay if he died as long as she made sure River was okay.

River... where was she? He panicked for a scary moment until he remembered. He sucked in a harsh breath, recalling how his sister had been crying over him and a moment later took off on her own to handle the Reavers. Oh God. She was probably never going to come back. He wanted to cry.

So many mistakes he'd made. So many people he'd wronged. He wondered how much time he had and if he could find the strength to at least apologize before leaving the 'Verse. But not everyone was here in this tiny, dark hallway.

The Sheppard... he felt sick as he remembered the bodies strung across Serenity's beautiful hull in order to get through to Miranda. How he hated the Alliance. Mal had better get the halo vid broadcasting. The Alliance couldn't get away with all they'd done.

Zoe was too far away for him to see, but he knew her wound was potentially paralyzing—that was no way for her to live. She was a soldier, ever-active. She had wanted to die.. Dear god, why hadn't he noticed sooner that Wash wasn't with them? He could have stayed behind, assessed the damage! Maybe save him... In horror, he wondered if the man was still alive. If the Reavers had found him... Merciful Buddha, let him have died a peaceful death.

He had to glance down his body to see if Inara's hands were still there, he couldn't feel her anymore. He wanted to laugh at himself for ever thinking he could compete with her. A Companion, beautiful, graceful, and refined in such a different way than him. It was no contest, she would win every time. He wanted to tell her sorry.

And Kaylee. He owed her so much more than mere admissions of guilt. How he wished he could have loved her and held her like she wanted him to. He wished he could have made love to her, even just once, and prove to her that he could never be what she dreamed about. Thank god River had managed to toss his medical bag through. The injection Inara had given Kaylee should save her life.

"Hang on, Simon..."

Blearily he tried to focus on the ethereal face above him. He smiled slightly, thinking that angels really were beautiful. He lifted a trembling hand and brushed the pale cheek. The angel startled, jerking to the side at his touch. He regretted his action immediately, staring helplessly at the streak of crimson marring the soft cheek.

"You'll be all right," the angel insisted, her eyes bright. Funny, he thought she looked familiar. "Mal's coming back!"

Mal... He tried to move, knowing he had to try and help—Shit. The pain jolted along every nerve ending and he cried out wordlessly. He knew he had to stay awake, he couldn't let go yet. If nothing else he had to see them one last time. Mal. River. They'd never forgive him if he left without saying goodbye. He couldn't leave without confessing his deepest, darkest sin. He looked up at the angel again, this time recognizing Inara's worried face. Could he really admit his sin under her stare? He didn't have a choice, he realized. And maybe that's what he owed her...

Suddenly Inara looked up at something beyond him, down the hall. Tears flooded her eyes as she cried, "Mal!"

He closed his eyes and opened them slowly. He couldn't feel his body; only the smell and taste of blood told him he was still flesh, still grounded.

He heard a jerky pattern of vibrations and then saw the rough leather of worn out boots. He stared, following the boots to a familiar coat—a little bloody now—up an arm, and even further up, practically out of sight, a well-loved face. Mal was hurt, he could see the stiffness in the man's body, had heard the limp, and could see the tears along with the blood in his clothing. For a ridiculous moment he began to organize in his mind how to address the list of injuries. He smiled bittersweetly. No, he couldn't do that now.

"I... I loved you..." He thought he said it, but couldn't tell if he'd heard it in his mind or with his ears. Mal certainly hadn't heard. Oh well, one more failure in his miserable life. He winced. Why did he think he could redeem himself in the end?

As the darkness crept into his vision, he fought to kept it at bay. He still had to see River.

Instead, Inara's face, her expression desperate, hovered above him again.

"Simon! Hold on. He didn't hear you. You have to tell him, he needs to hear," she pleaded.

Oh... so he had said it... Maybe the angel would take pity on him and tell Mal herself. That... sounded good. He stared into the all-encompassing blackness and wondered if he'd closed his eyes or if...


I'm not sure if that's a cheater's ending or if that was just plain cruel. O.o;; Er... but as y'all know, Simon does live. Unlike some characters. grumbles sadly