Warning suggested incest, major character death. Dark ficlet!
Dark ficlet AN response to prompt from sazz_k at dark_fest.
Simon wiped the smear of blood off of his hand and onto the body of his white shirt. The blood would stain the shirt, but better that than to keep the warm sticky substance on his skin.
As a doctor you'd assume he would be comfortable with getting a little blood on his hands. And honestly, normally, he was.
But normally the blood he spilled on his hands was a result of his attempts to save a life. Not from his having taken a life.
He looked down at the body of Mal Reynolds lying on the cabin floor.
He'd never been much of a fighter; one on one - in a fair fight - the Captain would have taken Simon down without even breaking a sweat. But, of course, this hadn't been a fair fight. Simon had used all of his 'I'm a harmless purveyor of medicine and mildness' persona to gain entry to the Captain's quarters and when Mal's back had been turned towards him, Simon used his vast knowledge of anatomy to sever Mal's jugular.
Not a very fair attack.
Not a very pretty death.
He wiped his hand along his shirt again.
He was going to have to collect River and get her off of the ship in a few minutes. Absal 1 was as good of a planet as any other for them to disappear on. And now, with the time that they'd spent on Serenity they had more survival skills than they had had when they first joined the crew.
He and River would creep off the ship together and then they'd fade into the night. Together.
He bent over, and using a towel, pulled the small but sharp knife out of Mal's neck.
He hadn't relished the thought of killing the captain. Despite their differences there had been things about the man he'd admired. He had been quick witted, loyal to his crew, and street-smart.
Lifting up his shirt and placing the knife in its sheath, Simon ran the back of his hand over his forehead.
Yes, Mal Reynolds had been a street-smart man. But unfortunately for him, he had also been a man with an overactive libido. Simon had let the initial flirting he saw going on between Mal and River slide. River wasn't' always aware of how what she did - how she acted – affected those around her. Especially the males around her. She wasn't aware of how her lithe figure, her ethereal smile, affected men. Other men. Him.
Because she was so unaware Simon couldn't blame her for the tableau he'd walked in on two weeks ago. But Mal...Mal was another story. Simon had walked into the storage room, looking for a box of painkillers and had, instead, found Mal, his finger wrapped around a strand of River's hair, and his body too close to River's body. Mal had quickly pulled away from River and then he had made a little joke about 'close quarters' before patting Simon on the back and leaving the room.
River swore to him that Mal hadn't 'touched' any part of her other than her hair; she swore that she had only ever given herself to her ge ge, but Simon thought he could almost smell the captain on her skin.
He'd watched as River stood in the shower; shampooing her hair three times, scrubbing her skin until Simon could only smell vanilla and almonds.
"Much better mei mei," he'd whispered before making her, once again, his.
Captain Mal Reynold's death was clearly his own fault, Simon thought as he placed his hand on the cabin door. Simon was a mild mannered, caring man. But there were some things that he couldn't – wouldn't abide - and the captain had crossed one of those lines the moment he touched River.
River belonged to Simon.